G. Kitsune
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The Soul Reborn: From Silence to Sovereignty Chapter 70
🕑 Added 2025-07-23 21:19:57 +0000 UTCChapter 70: Lessons That Last
Ten women stood in two rows with varying ages, statures, and backgrounds. They were all waiting under the weight of my stare.
Livia had spent the last few days assembling this group. Half were former tutors to noble households with prim, polished, and rigid expectations.
The other half were much rarer. These were commoner women who had taught themselves to read and write, then shared that skill in alleyways, kitchens, or village barns, sometimes for payment, sometimes out of the kindness of their hearts.
Each of these ladies had the skill and experience to prove useful. But I wasn’t really here to test their grammar.
I was much more interested in testing their character.
As I sat in my chair with a straight back despite how heavy I felt this morning. One hand was, of course, resting on my stomach, and the other was cradling a cup of tea. Livia stood just behind me to the side with her arms crossed and eyes like ice, surveying the candidates.
Elowen was there too, standing slightly off to the side, though it was clear she now belonged to my inner circle. Her eyes were sharp and focused, quietly assessing the women who would help shape the foundation of this school.
After some silence and preparation for what was to come, I looked up at the women here and asked the first question.
My voice was calm but stern. “If your student gets a question wrong, how would you correct them?”
A moment of hesitation followed. No one seemed eager to be the guinea pig for testing my values.
Then the first woman who looked interested in the question stepped forward. A sharp-looking lady in her forties with her graying hair tied back into a braided bun.
“I would remind them of the correct answer firmly,” she said. “Ensuring they will remember it next time.”
“How?” I asked, genuinely curious. I’d read enough to know how brutal noble educators could be with their students.
“Through repetition,” she said. “There must also be consequences for repeated failure.”
My eyes narrowed slightly, “Such as?”
“A ruler to the knuckles, perhaps, or lines repeated until their hands ache.”
I blinked once in slight surprise at this obviously proud noble. Turning to Livia, I said, “She won’t be staying.”
Looking back at the woman, I saw her face fall into despair, her mouth open. I guess she heard my words. Oh well.
Scanning the others, I spoke, “Let me be clear. This isn’t a noble household but a school that I cherish deeply. Pain isn’t a teaching method. If you can’t correct mistakes without harming the student, you don’t belong here.”
A young woman stepped forward with quick, purposeful steps. She appeared to be in her twenties, her face visibly flushed, though I couldn't tell if it was from nerves or something else.
“I… I wouldn’t punish them,” she said. “If they got something wrong, I’d explain it again or maybe in a different way. Try using a metaphor to help better enforce what you’re teaching.”
My lips slightly parted at her words. “Much better… What metaphor would you use to teach the difference between their, there, and they’re?”
She slightly hesitated for a moment, being deep in thought.
“Imagine a picnic,” she said. “Their blanket is what they brought. There is where they laid it down. They’re the ones enjoying the food.”
I looked at her as my face broke into a smile. “Well done, you put it in a way that someone could easily understand.”
She was a commoner, but at the same time her actual knowledge and understanding seemed to be top-notch. A great find, that’s for sure.
That’s a keeper, I thought. Someone like her is exactly what I’ve been looking for. Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper, and she carries herself gently. She’d be the perfect kind of teacher to make young children feel safe and at ease.
The interviews went on for a while, making sure to thoroughly vet all the applicants.
One woman claimed children were too easily distracted and needed discipline more than creativity. She was dismissed before she even finished her sentence. Are these people stupid or just not paying attention?
Another commoner said she used storybooks with missing words and let her students of the past fill in the blanks based on context.
“Like riddles,” she said. “Kids like puzzles more than drills.”
I leaned back in my chair and smiled at her answer.
“She stays.” I exclaimed, really liking her overall appeal.
Livia gave no real reactions besides the occasional snicker, but I could tell she approved of all my choices.
Elowen, for her part, scribbled notes quickly, documenting what I liked and what I didn’t for her future reference. I appreciated her thoughtfulness.
By the end of it all, I had chosen four of the ten women who showed up.
Two noble tutors who had surprisingly gentle philosophies and two commoners with raw but creative brilliance.
“Your job,” I said clearly, “will be to teach reading, writing, and basic sentence structure. Many of your students may have never seen a letter before, so teach with kindness. Never humiliate them. If you notice a problem with just one child, try to address it gently and without drawing attention.”
They all nodded solemnly.
I gestured toward Livia.
“You will report to her. Lesson plans, materials, and weekly progress. She’ll determine if you’re meeting our expectations.”
Then I stood slowly with careful movement, my back giving a familiar twinge, and then added.
“If you do well, you’ll become the ones to shape the minds of our future leaders. If not… well, I trust Livia, who will find someone else who can.”
As we walked back to the castle, Livia supporting my weight once again, I murmured softly, “That felt right, and also like an ending.”
“To an educational arc?” she asked dryly.
I grinned, “Exactly. Our professors teach the ambitious, and the others create the foundation to build upon.”
Behind us, Elowen walked with a thoughtful look. Livia and I kept a close eye on her, just to be safe, until she truly proved her loyalty.
As we made our slow crawl back down the hall, I couldn’t help the way my mind began to assemble things. Like a puzzle finally revealing the full picture.
“We’ll use two classrooms,” I said, watching dust motes drift through the sunlight, “one for the noble instructors and the other for the commoners.”
Livia looked at me with curiosity.
“There’s no reason to mix them just yet,” I continued. “Let’s not tempt pride and prejudice to poison the air. They’ll teach the same material, but separately. That way we minimize the risk of clashes.”
Livia gave the slightest nod of approval, and from behind, Elowen seemed to agree.
“With having two teachers per room,” I added, “we can have a hands-on approach. One instructs the class, and the other walks around the room, supporting individual students who are struggling. This will create an atmosphere that should make teaching the students very ideal.”
I looked at my favorite maid not for permission, but for confirmation I was doing things the right way. It’s not like it would really change my mind, but it gave me more confidence going forward.
Elowen just stayed quiet; she hasn’t really found her spot in our little group. So she usually stays silent for most of the time, occasionally giving her opinion.
As expected, Livia didn’t disappoint.
“That’ll work,” she said, cool and sure. “Better than I expected, honestly. Most people forget teaching isn’t just about lecturing; it’s about seeing, and two pairs of eyes are harder to fool than one.”
“Right,” I gave her a smile, “then it’s settled.”
Behind us, Elowen spoke up, her voice laced with awe and unguarded curiosity.
“How… did you learn all this?” she asked. “You speak like someone whose run a dozen schools. But there’s never been anything like this here, anywhere.”
I didn’t stop my forward movement or look back; I just let the words slip out as they came to me.
“You could call it a vision from another world,” I said with a slight chuckle. “I’ve seen dreams of classrooms filled with light, where children start learning at five and study for twelve years. It’s a system built to teach them how to think, how to question everything. That’s where I learned it.”
A silence followed, and then I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye.
“The books in those dreams taught me how the world really works. Not how nobles say it does.”
Elowen stared, her expression not quite matching the moment.
Not without doubt, I think. If I had to guess, she looked at me with the same reverence people usually reserve for saints or stars. At the same time, she was skeptical of my claims.
She obviously couldn’t figure me out, and at the same time I saw that wear on her a bit. But she wasn’t close enough to share my greatest secrets, so guess for now, Elowen.
“You speak…” she whispered, “as if it’s wisdom of the gods.”
Livia let out the softest snort beside me.
“I wouldn’t say gods,” she murmured, amused, “but you should see her when she’s angry. She might be scarier than one.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Thank you, Livia.”
“You’re welcome, Your Holiness,” she replied flatly.
Elowen let out a laugh behind us, letting the weight of the moment settle gently over us.
The sun had just dipped below the horizon by the time I finally returned to my chambers, feet aching, back sore, and my belly feeling heavier than ever.
But I didn’t have time to complain because Noah was already waiting for me.
He stood as I entered, the way he always did, like the very act of seeing me come home was more important than anything else he’d been doing all day.
Without a word, he came forward and knelt as I sat down on the couch. He helped me out of my boots like I was royalty and porcelain in equal measure.
Then, with an obvious smile on his face, he gently lifted my legs into his lap as he sat next to me and started rubbing.
Slow, steady circles that always drew the sounds he liked to hear. One hand supported my heel; the other eased away the tension of the day.
I groaned out, “Finally!”
“Did you walk a bit too much today?” he said with a knowing smile.
“I was inspecting the progress on the school and interviewing literacy teachers. You know… educational revolutionary stuff.”
He chuckled, “Sounds exhausting.”
“Only mildly,” I sighed. “What about you? How many frost-covered war plans did you approve today?”
“Three,” he replied smoothly. “One was so foolish I threw it directly into the fireplace.”
“Atta boy,” I smirked.
We sat in quiet warmth for a while, just the soft crackle of the fireplace and his hands kneading the day’s weight from my swollen feet.
Then, I asked, “Do you think she’ll live to see it?”
My insecurities were on full display, even though I knew everything was alright for now.
He, of course, knew who I was talking about.
“Our daughter?” he said. “Yes, she’ll live and own it.”
I closed my eyes. “A world shaped by wisdom and freedom. Not built on titles or lineage, but on insight and resolve.”
He leaned forward and kissed the top of my foot, smiling with enticing eyes, “A world where our names are spoken in classrooms for generations to come.”
I peeked at him through tired lashes. “You really think they’ll remember us?”
He lifted my foot slightly, placing a reverent kiss at my ankle this time.
“They won’t have a choice.”
I laughed, even as my chest tightened with emotion.
As the fire crackled and the world outside cooled into dusk, I reached for his hand, letting my fingers intertwine with his.
“We’re building something that could change the world, Noah,” I whispered. “That should outlive the both of us.”
He squeezed my hand gently, his voice steady.
“I know.”
In that moment, with sore feet and a full heart, I realized this wasn’t just our legacy. It was our love etched in stone, sealed in ink, and meant to echo through generations.
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