Octavia's mind drifted, and she began thinking strange thoughts. Though she appeared to be a mature young woman, she was only 17 yers old. Despite her fear of Arthur, she couldn't respond to him directly. Yet contrary to her expectations, she heard no harsh rebuke. In fact, Arthur's expression was gentle and calm—very unlike his usual sinister coldness.
After a brief silence, she answered with fear in her voice,
"Your will is my command, my lord. I am yours already—to do with me as you please."
Sigh…
Octavia's answer was perfect—enough to please the heart of any tyrant. But Arthur had no desire to hear such nonsense. What he wanted was her genuine loyalty, born of her own will, not out of fear of punishment.
'Let's leave the formalities for later. If I guide her strictly, she could become an E-rank mage in two weeks—or even less if I resort to more extreme methods.'
With no time to waste, he gave a firm command:
"Come closer."
Octavia walked forward slowly and hesitantly, stopping in front of him. He could smell a faint, fragrant aroma of soap coming from her. His sharp gaze swept her from head to toe, noticing that she looked much cleaner than before.
'Looks like she's using the soap I gave her properly.
His mind went into overdrive, searching for the best training technique he knew. After a brief moment of thought, he asked the system:
'What type of magical affinity does she have?'
[ She has high affinity toward the water element compared to other elements. ]
'That makes things easier.'
Immediately, a unique technique came to mind—one used by members of the royal family in the Kingdom of Myrosia.
Calmly, he raised her hands and pressed her palms together, then ordered:
"Close your eyes."
Octavia quickly closed her eyes, waiting silently and bracing herself for something unpleasant. Her breathing grew uneven.
"Calm down. Don't be afraid. Take a deep breath through your nose, and hold it in your chest."
She followed his instructions. While holding her breath, she felt something cold and moist placed between her palms. She immediately realized it was water. Then she heard a soft, unfamiliar voice.
"Now exhale. Take another breath and release it quickly. Clear your mind and focus on what's in your hands. Feel the moisture. Don't forget to breathe."
"Yes, just like that. Keep your breathing steady. Inhale—then hold your breath for four seconds—then exhale. Then a short breath in—then out. Empty your mind. Forget I exist. Focus only on my voice, and on the water in your hands. Feel every drop slipping between your fingers."
Octavia didn't understand what she was doing, or why. But she began to feel something pleasant—something moist and soft spreading from her hands. Before she even realized it, Arthur's voice faded away, leaving only silence and peace inside her head. Unaware of time, seconds—or rather minutes—passed slowly.
In front of her, Arthur continued to guide her. Suddenly, a system notification appeared.
[ She has entered a Meditative State. ]
"Faster than I expected. That's good."
Though Octavia's actions seemed simple—and even nonsensical—only those with a magical affinity for water could understand their effect. Even if someone else tried them with a different elemental affinity, they would feel nothing, no matter how hard they tried.
Arthur realized that Octavia wouldn't awaken from the meditative state anytime soon, so he quietly left his room and headed to the castle's artisans. He wanted to craft a toothbrush but lacked the skill to make one himself. He needed an expert in wood and wool to help him.
The castle had several workshops for blacksmiths and carpenters. After ordering the best carpenter to be summoned—a burly, middle-aged man with a thick beard—Arthur instructed him to carefully shape a toothbrush handle out of fine wood. The man then drilled several small holes into the head of the wooden piece. Next, Arthur ordered some horsehair to be brought. He personally cut and arranged the hairs precisely, using his experience to prepare them.
After that, he instructed one of the seamstresses to fasten the hairs into the holes using strong hemp fibers. The ends of the hairs were trimmed until they formed a neat surface.
By sunset, the primitive toothbrush was ready. Arthur immediately ordered the maids to bring some salt, dried mint, charcoal, and olive oil, along with a bowl and mortar. He returned to his room, where he found Octavia still standing like a statue.
Since night had fallen, he lit several candles that barely illuminated the room and sat in front of the table full of ingredients. Taking care not to disturb Octavia, he minimized noise as he began grinding the charcoal into a fine powder. Then he ground the salt and dried mint as well. Once done, he mixed the ingredients together and added olive oil, forming a paste with a decent scent.
After half an hour of work, he finally finished the paste. Just like with the hair cleanser, he stored the toothpaste in a small clay jar. However, before sealing it away, he scooped a bit onto the simple brush and brushed his teeth.
The toothpaste was not well-blended, and the brush was too soft, which annoyed him.
"Next time I'll change the ingredient ratios—and I need better hair than horsehair."
While noting his observations, he noticed the water in the washbasin ripple suddenly for no reason. Instantly realizing what was happening, he turned quickly—black foam still in his mouth—and stared at Octavia, whose body was trembling strangely. He swiftly cleaned his mouth and rose to his usual dignified posture.
Octavia opened her eyes, greeted by the soft candlelight. Surprised by what she saw, she looked around until her eyes finally settled on Arthur standing nearby. She didn't understand what had happened, but before she could grasp everything, Arthur stepped toward her and asked:
"How was it?"
"I-It was… strange. Quiet and gentle. And most of all, moist."
She answered in confusion, not hiding anything.
"Hmm, that's good. Can you still feel that moisture?"
Octavia hesitated for a moment before nodding.
"It's everywhere around me. It's… strange."
After experiencing the meditative state, she no longer feared Arthur as much. In fact, she felt a powerful curiosity growing within her—a need to understand what had happened to her, and the reason behind that strange sensation.
"Very good. Very, very good."
Arthur nodded in satisfaction. Octavia had succeeded in the first step every mage must take: sensing the mana around them. All she needed now was to gather it into her Mana Core.
Calmly, he ordered her,
"Sit in the lotus position."
"What's that, my lord?"
Octavia didn't understand, so Arthur sat in front of her, demonstrating the proper posture. Once she followed his instructions and sat, he told her to close her eyes. Then, unexpectedly, he placed his hand on her right chest.
Octavia panicked but didn't move—unable to disobey him. But he didn't do anything inappropriate. He simply said:
"Feel this place. Try to imagine a sphere pulsing like your heart. At the same time, sense the moisture around you. Imagine that moisture turning into a stream—like a river—flowing toward the sphere in your chest."
Arthur couldn't explain the concept perfectly—it was too difficult. But after several attempts, he managed to convey the idea clearly enough. Octavia followed his instructions exactly. However, she failed to store the mana.
After teaching her the proper training method and ordering her not to tell anyone what had happened, Arthur dismissed her from his room and headed to bed.