Dear Marchioness Fresa,

I have heard Heir Querido did very well during the Sunage Games. My sincerest apologies about not being able to attend to witness it in person. Unfortunately I’m still too busy to come to Fresa Mansion to congratulate him. Please send him my heartfelt regards and congratulations.

Truly,

Viscount Barrera

Felicia eyebrows furrowed at the letter she’d received. 

‘I suppose it’s a good thing he’s not coming in person?’

[You don’t sound certain?]

‘It’s just… this isn’t like him?’

[Have you heard anything unusual from your spies?]

‘No….’

DARS was silent for a while.

[It’s true this is unusual. Be careful if there’s any new change in staff or when you go out in the future. It is possible he has figured something out and is simply biding his time.]

Felicia shuddered, feeling a bit like a sea lion targeted by a shark.

‘I’ll increase security.’

———

Valor walked into Rido’s study carrying a blue envelope. 

“Heir Fresa, you have received a letter from Invierno Duchy.”

“Again?!”

“The turn around for your replies is quite high.”

Rido elbows rested on his desk while he grabbed his hair and groaned.

“Does this guy not have anything better to do than write me letters?”

“Maybe he likes you and wants to be friends.”

Rido glared at Valor, “Why the hell would he want to be friends with me? There’s nothing to gain from it!”

“You don’t have anything to gain being friends with me, yet here we are.”

“That’s… that’s different.” Rido muttered, looking a little embarrassed. Valor and his siblings were closer to family than friends. 

Valor chuckled slightly and set the letter on the desk.

“Why not give him a chance? He seems genuine.”

“But I don’t like him!”

“So? Even if you don’t particularly like him, a connection is a connection. And he’s heir to a Duchy, that’s useful for you.”

Rido frowned at his valet while picking up the envelope and taking a sharp knife out to cut it open.

“What kind of villain do you take me for? I’m not going to befriend someone with those kinds of motives.”

“Then just be casual friends with him.”

“If I could do that I wouldn’t be annoyed like this!”

Valor rolled his eyes.

Rido could complain all he wanted, but who was it that gave timely replies to the Heir Duke’s letters in the end, hm? 

It was times like this that Valor found the young Heir very much resembled his mother.

———

“Marchioness, the fabric you ordered arrived. Would you like to come check it before giving it over to the seamstress?” 

Felicia was in her “office” when a maid came in to inform her of the arrival. She glanced at Tie and nodded. Tierno walked out with the maid and shortly brought the fabric in question.

There was no one else in the room and Tie’s body blocked the door, preventing anyone from seeing Felicia’s hands. She dug into the folded fabric until she finally found a slip of paper and pulled it out, a slight smile on her face. 

Tucking the paper in a hidden pocket in her dress, she said, “My, this fabric is quite lovely…”

Later that night, Felicia sat alone at her desk and unfolded the hidden letter.

Inventor,

Your washing machine has been successfully created and, as expected, is a huge success! After demonstrating it to all the local Housekeepers, per your suggestion, the orders have been pouring in. Just yesterday we got an order from the Royal Castle! We are once again in the enviable position of having a high demand and not enough product! 

People continue to ask me about the Company’s mysterious inventor. As always, I claim you to be a recluse who hates talking to strangers. The current rumor has it you’re horribly deformed and the real reason you don’t see anyone is because you’re ugly. Amusing, no?

Word had gotten around that we are an exceptional company to work for, especially after shouldering the cost of a particularly expensive treatment for one of our worker’s sick daughters. People are lining up in front of my office to get a job and I’m turning them away right and left. Do people think hard work is enough to get hired? I need skilled workers, not just random people off the street!

I was quite skeptical of your insisting on shorter work days and including all those costly benefits, but I must admit that after all these years you proved to be right. Despite having less time to work, they do more and do so happily. 

I am fairly certain they are so happy with this job they would, in fact, die for it. I have never been around such loyal and zealous workers in my entire life. Are you sure you aren’t creating a religion? Hah!

The Merchant Guild continues to harass us. They have once again raised their membership fee on the Company. Do they think we are made of cash!? It is to the point I am thinking of going before the Lord’s Court and filing a lawsuit against them. Tell me what you think.

As to your medicine books, we are still struggling to get doctors to accept some of the more profound information contained within them. The Germ Theory in particular is struggling to take hold. The young doctor you sent over a few months back is helping, but the Miasma Theory is deeply entrenched in doctors’ minds. 

That being said, we at the company take your research seriously. All employees are required to wash their hands and boil water per your instructions. Those with illnesses are sent home until they are properly recovered. We continue to have the healthiest workers in our field.

Good news! The testing to eliminate scurvy among sailors has been completed. The dried fruits had the best success, both in terms of curative effects and sailor approval. However, the dried vegetables and beef spleen also went over very well. When all foods were combined on a single ship, no new cases of scurvy were reported. 

We discovered that other illnesses were also reduced or disappeared entirely with these foods added to the sailors’ diet. The captain of our test ship swears that everyone had more energy and better disposition when consuming these foods long term. Purportedly at least one man’s acne cleared up!

After hearing how well the one ship with all items combined did, the other 4 captains ordered the dried food packages in bulk. Through word-of-mouth other ships have contacted us expressing interest in ordering. 

Your suggestion to use testing as a way to get word out about the product has worked exceptionally well. It is unlikely we will have to say anything on our end to get buyers. I am now completely confident in the profitability of this going forward.

Concerning this venture, I recommend we move to the south. While our current location works well enough, the demand for this will be extremely high. It would be beneficial to move to an area closer to seaports, our primary buyer base. 

I have already sent someone and found a suitable building that can be used for drying, packaging, and delivery. You have told me in the past it is fine to make these decisions without asking your consent, but there is a large upfront cost buying the property and moving production to the new area. Therefore, I am asking permission.

Lastly, do you have anything else in that brilliant mind of yours you’d like to share? It’s been almost a half a year since the washing machine was sent over, now would be a good time to begin working on something new.

Truly,

Investor

Felicia read the letter one more time before throwing the letter into the fireplace, where it quickly burned to ash. She went back to her desk and tapped her finger on her desk thoughtfully.

The [Natural DIY] skill and her own knowledge—basic though it was—of medicine turned out to be extremely useful when paired with DARS ability to find quality people. Some years ago she’d stumbled on a small merchant in Marron County that had the right potential, high ethical and moral standards, and the connections needed to be her middle man concerning all her “inventions” and “medical discoveries”. 

The [Natural DIY] skill worked best when improving on something that already existed. For instance, prosthetics already existed but they were poorly done and uncomfortable to wear. With her knowledge of modern medicine and otherworldly skill, she was able to vastly improve the quality and comfort of prosthetics. She was even able to improve on the basic crutch, providing a low cost solution for those who couldn’t afford a prosthetic. Through her middle-man, many people’s lives were improved, instead of just Lord Curtidor.

Besides prosthetics, the other three things she initially focused on improving was the printing press, paper making, and writing utensils. At first she was surprised how many things she could build based on what was available in this era, but it turned out a lot of these inventions worked off simple principles and mechanics. They only became overly complicated after the Industrial Revolution in her own world. 

An unexpected problem when she first started was finding the right words for certain things she envisioned. Calle was naturally ignorant about a vast majority of the world. To compensate, she ended up buying a lot of books related to minerals, woods, and metals in an effort to strengthen her vocabulary. It wasn’t fun reading about rocks and tree species, but the knowledge made it easier to draw up graphs and write out material lists.

It was hard to move large amounts of money in this era, especially with the Viscount watching. After the first successful product was made, her middle-man “Investor”, put the profit into making the next invention, and then the next, and so on. This process of creation, selling, and reinvestment eventually turned into a business, which was called Blackfire Company.

She hoped, when the Viscount and his stooges were dealt with, she could directly move Blackfire into Fresa March. She could have them setup shop at Fresa’s Riverport. It would be an easy way to bring jobs into the March’s abysmal economy and improve the general living conditions of everyone at the same time.

 ———

Months passed and, other than one other letter from the Viscount, he sent no other word. There were no strange movements from him or his people. 

The calmness of the Viscount’s response to the Sunage Games alarmed Felicia at first. She worried about it continually and did her best to probe what was happening on his side of things. However, word always came back that the Viscount was normal. He was spending most of his time chasing after that damnable “Robin Hood and his merry band of men”.

After so long with nothing happening, a vague hope rose in Felicia’s heart: Perhaps, just perhaps, he’d been so distracted he’d really not cared at all.

 ———

It was lunch and Rido and Valor had not returned. 

By now, Felicia had a pretty good system set up for meals. For breakfast and lunch, a small room—usually used as a snack room for guests—was where she, Rido and the siblings ate together. With occasional visits from Lord Curtidor or some other ally.

This space was very informal. Meals would come on a wheeled cart and be left in the room. Like a buffet, she and the rest would take what they wanted from the cart and sit and eat. The door would then be closed and none of the servants could enter unless there was an emergency. They could all relax and be as they liked, without much thought to status or age. Like a real family.

Dinners, however, remained for Felicia and Rido only. These were formal meals, eaten in the fashion typical for nobles of this era. Valor and Tie behaved as servants, serving their masters quietly from behind. Fijo ate with Lord Curtidor as was tradition. This kept everyone from forgetting how to behave in public, as their stations dictated.

If Felicia felt most comfortable during the informal meals, Calle felt most comfortable during the formal dinners. Despite 10 years having passed, her host persisted in clinging on to the trappings of noble pride. Though things were better than when she first started, sparks of tension still occasionally flared between Felicia and her host.

Not unexpectedly, Rido enjoyed the casual meals the most.

As they were casual, there was no hard and fast time of arrival. Sometimes one of the group would run late or arrive early, depending on their day’s schedule. It wasn’t unusual for Rido to be a little late. And Valor followed Rido around, so if one was late the other would be late.

But this was really late.

Even Fijo and Tie were going from ambivalence to worry, picking at their cooling half-eaten food as they waited.

Felicia bit her lip and finally asked DARS, ‘Can you search for them? They’re taking too long. Valor would have at least sent a message back if they knew they couldn’t make it.’

[Yes.]

DARS immediately left the room, going straight through the wall like a spector.

After waiting several minutes, Felicia began to feel restless. That DARS hadn’t returned suggested they weren’t in the mansion and he’d had to go outside, possibly to the edges of the estate. 

She opened her mouth and began to say, “I think I should send—”

[Valor needs emergency treatment!] DARS came zooming into the room, several !!!!!! showing on his face.

Felicia’s mouth clamped shut, body going rigid. She was trying to maintain a neutral expression in front of Fijo and Tie.

‘What do you mean emergency treatment?!’

[Someone shot him with an arrow. It is near his heart. He will bleed out soon if nothing is done.]

‘WHAT?! WHO SHOT HIM?’ Her face paled, ‘What about Rido? He should be with Valor?’

[He is not there. Valor is on the ground and their horses are gone.]

Felicia shot up from her seat.

Fijo and Tie looked at her in confusion. She had been in the middle of talking and then looked deathly pale.

“Marchiones—?” 

“I’m heading out, stay here until word is sent back,” Felicia told Tie, and then glanced at Fijo, “Follow me when you can, bring guards. Hurry!”

Fijo was stunned for a moment by this order before scrambling to his feet and rushing out of the room.

Tie was left alone, mouth open in shock. 

What? What had just happened?!

———

‘Which would be faster, going by foot or horse?’ Felicia asked DARS.

[Horse, they are about a mile away.]

‘Why are they out so far?!’

[I believe they were just taking a morning ride…]

As Felicia rushed towards the stables, she continued talking to DARS.

‘Morning? Does that mean Valor getting shot happened a while ago?’

[Based on the wound, estimated time of initial injury would be 1 hour 23 minutes and 42 seconds ago.]

‘Frick, no wonder he’s dying!’

“You there, I am taking that horse!” 

Felicia was at the stables, a carriage horse was being taken out. The reins and a cloth had been put on it, in preparation for being hitched to the carriage. The stable hand jumped at the Marchioness sudden appearance and then looked dumbfounded as she directly took the horse from him.

“It’s not saddled—” The stable hand fumbled stupidly.

“Forget the saddle, help me up.”

“Marchioness is going bareback?!” The stable hand was momentarily stunned into immobility.

The same woman who hated horses and became unbearably cranky while riding one was suddenly advancing to bareback riding?!

Felicia roared in his face, “SHUT UP AND HELP ME ONTO THE HORSE!” 

Getting yelled at woke him up from his stupor. He immediately hoisted her up onto the horse’s back. 

Once on the horse, Felicia didn’t waste any time and flicked the reins. 

‘Show me the way DARS!’

DARS floated in front of the horse, a little further ahead, guiding the rider.

Calle didn’t know, or want to know, how to ride a horse but Felicia knew how. When she was Darius’ sister, she’d owned a horse and ridden it for fun. It was the typical past time of a girl with a rich family. She had even tried a little bareback riding too. Of course, after she graduated she didn’t have the time for horse riding and eventually donated her horse to a charity she financially supported.

Her knowing how to ride and her host being willing to ride were two different things. Usually it was a fight to get Calle to behave on a horse. But in her alarm, Felicia’s will dominated. And, though it was faint, Calle was also anxious for Rido and Valor.

Even a self centered "witch" would, after so many years, grow some affection for her charges. It seemed that Calle had grown to like the people Felicia liked too. She didn’t want them to be hurt anymore than Felicia did.

A carriage horse was not really designed for speed, but they were good at endurance and solid footing. Though they got there a little slower, the speed was at least steady along the way and faster than her host could run. 

When they arrived, Felicia practically fell off the horse, exhausted. It only took her about 15 minutes but Calle’s body was not used to riding a horse, much less having the muscles required for bareback riding. Tomorrow every muscle from the neck down would be screaming at her, she was sure.

Valor was lying on his side near the outskirts of the Mansion’s property. This area was heavily wooded. Felicia could guess someone hid in the trees and ambushed the two young men.

Felicia felt her breath hitch at the sight of the bronze man, blood peppered the ground around him. Very gently she turned him over. He’d been hit from the front. His shirt was soaked in red. When she saw where the arrow had entered, she stopped breathing for several seconds.

DARS had said it was close to his heart and he’d been right. If this was a modern era, this kind of wound would have been dicey but salvageable. The key was being able to take the arrow out without damaging the area around it further and making sure the patient didn’t lose too much blood.

But what time period was she in? He’d already been left like this for so long too.

There was no way to pull out the arrow without possibly tearing something important—like an artery or even the heart itself— along the way. Even if she somehow managed to remove the arrow, there was no way to do a blood transfusion! He’d die from blood loss!

All the medical knowledge in the world couldn’t save a person if the right equipment wasn’t available.

Felicia’s eyes teared up as she realized she didn’t know how to save him. 

This would be the second time someone died while she stood by helplessly.

“Valor, Valor, my boy, Mama’s here. I’m here.” Her hands trembled as she carefully embraced him. His face was so pale, so very pale. “I’m here, I’m here…”

‘DARS, DARS…!’ Her mind cried out in anguish as she looked up at the floating orb. ‘Help me!’

[Would User like to purchase [Cure-All] from the Dimensional Dollar Store?]

Felicia blanked for a moment.

‘FRICK I FORGOT I HAD THAT!’

[The cost is—]

‘Screw the cost, get me the [Cure-All] thingy!!!!!!’ 

There was the sound of a cash register opening.

[Palm up please.] Felicia did as instructed and a small hole appeared, where his mouth might be if he had one, and a pill dropped out onto her hand. At any other time she’d found this a little gross. It was like he’d spit out a pill. But the situation was too serious for her to find anything funny.

[This is an oral pill. To maximize effectiveness, remove the arrow first and administer the pill immediately after.]

‘Just pull out the arrow? Won’t that kill him?’

[Only if you’re too slow giving him the pill.]

Felicia didn’t talk to DARS anymore, only licked her salty tear stained lips and looked back down at Valor. Breathing deeply she grabbed the arrow while holding the pill near Valor’s mouth. 

DARS floated until his body was touching the arrow’s nock. When Felicia pulled the arrow, he pulled as well. It wouldn’t be until much later that she realized it was only thanks to DARS she managed to pull it out so smoothly.

She shoved the pill into the young man at the exact moment the arrow was removed. With the bloody arrow in one hand, she looked at Valor anxiously. 

The pill did not disappoint. The wound had barely a split second to gush when the blood stopped. To the naked eye, it was possible to see Valor’s wound close and his face return to its original shiny bronze color.

When two handsome cyan eyes fluttered open, traces of confusion visible, Felicia dropped the arrow, hugged him fiercely and sobbed in relief.

‘He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive!’ Her mind kept repeating as she cried.

Valor woke to Marchioness Fresa above him, crying a river all over his face. There was an initial flash of annoyance— he really disliked when she touched him— followed by anxiousness.

He clearly remembered getting shot. There’d only been enough time to be shocked when his consciousness faded. He remembered Rido’s yelling in alarm, the sound of hooves… shadows, voices…

“Where’s Heir Rido?!”

The Marchioness, covered in blood and pinned hair falling apart around her shoulders, wiped her wet face with her sleeve and shook her head.

“There was only you when I came.” Came her choked out explanation.

Valor stood up and looked around. There was an unsaddled horse but nothing else. He’d been shot, his horse and Rido were gone. This was very— 

He looked down and saw the hole where the arrow had left its mark, his shirt covered in his own blood. Further down was the darkly stained grass and soil. The arrow that had hit him was lying besides the Marchioness. A very important fact suddenly emerged in his mind:

He should be dead.

Or at least seriously injured.

He touched his chest in confusion. There was no pain. Without thinking of the consequences, he directly took off his vest and shirt. Blood soaked into everything and his chest was covered in it too. But where there should be an injury, there was none. There was simply perfectly smooth, untouched skin. He looked at his shirt again, the hole very clearly there, and felt a sense of disbelief.

Bewildered, he looked at the Marchioness, the only person around and asked, “Why am I alive?”

Marchioness looked at him blankly, and then suggested cautiously, “Miracle?”

“...a miracle?”

“What else could it be?”

Valor frowned. He’d known the Marchioness half his life at this point. He’d frequently watched her lie without batting an eye. She was an expert when it came to delivering falsehoods to people. But this time, it was obvious she was lying. 

But even if she was lying, other than a miracle, how else could he have come out completely unscathed?

Indeed, what else could it be but a miracle?

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. For a long time now he felt there was something very odd about this woman. Putting aside the obvious things, like an inability to speak kindly to her own son, there was something else too. 

She knew things she shouldn’t know.

This wasn’t just limited to her astonishing ability to know a person’s secrets or to see the potential of people she’d never met before. The kind of education she gave them, the things she taught them, he’d figured out years ago weren’t normal. Not just unusual, they were things that had never been heard of before. Yet these mysterious bits of knowledge she passed down to them were proven true again and again.

If a person asked—exactly as Valor had done— those who worked in the Mansion for many years, they would hear stories of the Marchioness when she was younger. The things she did, the things she may have done that could not be proven, were enough to chill a person in the summer. Vicious, cruel, and likely murderous, were words used to describe her.

Then, one year, she changed. This “changed” Marchioness had some traits of the original but her temperament and maturity were vastly different. Because it had been for the benefit of the mansion servants, none of them viewed this change negatively. They felt like a “miracle” had occurred and finally their master had gotten a heart!

But did she really?

When all the strangeness was put together, it became decidedly… supernatural. A person knowing things they shouldn’t know, changing suddenly for no real reason… It was as if the Marchioness had been possessed by something powerful. 

He felt that Rido somewhat understood there was something not-quite-right about the Marchioness. But Rido, being her son, was partial towards her in a way Valor was not. To Rido, his mother’s change came from repentance. She became a sharp tongued angel in his eyes, someone who could do no wrong. 

Valor, however, thought the Marchioness might really be possessed. The otherworldly being possessing her was benevolent at least, but without knowing its real motives he was always left feeling a little uneasy around her. 

He never expressed this thought because he wasn’t sure how to explain it to others without sounding like a paranoid lunatic. This vague notion of “otherness” that had gnawed at the corners of his mind solidified in this moment.

This person who called herself “Marchioness” was definitely NOT the Marchioness from all those years ago. She was wearing the skin of the Marchioness. He wasn’t certain the being underneath was human, or even female. But….

But... she was not malicious either.

For the second time, she had saved his life.

At the risk of exposing herself for what she really was, she had saved his life regardless.

Was she an angel? A god descended to the earth? If so, was it right for him to be suspicious? Was it right for him to question why she did the things she did?

These thoughts swept through his mind in a matter of seconds. 

He fell to his knees and reached out a hand, touching the hem of her dress reverently.

Speaking in his native language, he said, “I don't know who or what you are, but you have saved my life a second time today. I will not ask you to reveal yourself. I will not ask you why you are here. But you have given me life twice, so now I will—”

[SILENCE HIM.]

Felicia had no idea what this young man was saying but did as DARS instructed, immediately covering Valor’s mouth with her bloodstained hand to stop him from speaking further.

[He is trying to pledge a life-oath to you.]

‘Of all the stupid times to—!’ She thought in exasperation, while narrowing her eyes and saying aloud to Valor, “Do not give your life to me. I don’t want or need it. If you feel grateful for anything, then channel that towards my son instead. Do you understand?”

Valor’s eyes widened and then he nodded slowly. Only then did she remove her hand. 

Valor sat down and stared at her in wonder.

She had known he was going to give a life-oath despite not knowing his native tongue. Had she understood what he was saying? Then, did she understand the place he’d come from to know what he meant to do? Did she actually know where his homeland was located? How powerful was she really?

“Do you—” 

She cut him off, “Even if you ask, there are things I can’t tell you.”

Valor stopped speaking, his expression conflicted.

Felicia understood that she’d blown her cover with healing him. 

‘DARS, how much can I say?’

 [How much will he believe?]

‘So I can tell him everything?’

[I have already explained: you are a loophole, your existence is already fundamentally altering the world around you. You have a lot of freedom to say and act as you like but] DARS seemed to stare at her intently [just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. By giving you this level of freedom there is trust involved on our part. If your actions alter the timeline to the degree that you become worse than the original corruption, do not think you’ll get to retain your freedom in the future. And once it is taken away, you will never get it back.]

Felicia mentally gulped. This was the first time DARS had threatened her and she felt a shiver run down her spine. For him to say it this way meant she needed to take his words very seriously.

‘So… so…. Proceed with caution?’

[Correct.]

She sighed heavily and gave Valor a wry smile.

“I have limitations. I sacrificed something to save you just now. The help I have given over the years... that is the extent I can give. Keep your expectations low.” She pressed her lips together. “Don’t… don’t tell others about today. It is better no one knows. If someone asks, tell them it was a miracle. What I did is not that different from a miracle, you wouldn’t be lying.”

Valor heard her earnest appeal and clenched his fists.

“I understand. No one will know.”

If the Heavens wanted him to keep a secret, then he’d take it to his grave.

“I will not speak to you of this again.”

The young man hesitated. 

“...alright.” 

“Ah, the others are coming.” 

Felicia looked to her right and Valor followed her line of sight.

Sure enough, off in the distance, people on horses could be seen coming over. Shortly after the sound of horses galloping was heard too.

 As they neared, Valor heard her faintly say, “I exist to help Heir Fresa. In this, you must never doubt me.”

He had only enough time to turn a sharp stare at her before Fijo’s horse charged up to them, followed shortly by the guards he’d been ordered to bring.

“Brother! Marchioness!” 

Fijo gaped at the sight before him: his brother was shirtless, covered in blood, and the Marchioness was a mess and also covered in red. He cried out in shock, “What on earth happened?!”

Valor walked over to Fijo, “Heir Rido and I were attacked. The attackers…” He paused, “... attempted to kill me but failed. I was knocked out and Heir Rido was taken with the horses.”

Fijo’s face went slack for a moment, stupefied.

“Kidnapped?”

Valor nodded.

“IN OUR OWN BACKYARD?!” Fijo turned to the guards, furious, “Search the area! Look for signs of intruders! Report back to Lord Curtidor if you find anything!”

The guards only had a moment to be stunned by partially naked Valor and disheveled Marchioness before they were ordered to spread out. Work before gossip: they immediately did as commanded. Horses galloped in all directions.

Fijo looked back down at his older brother from his horse, “Are you alright? Where did all this blood come from?” He blinked, “And why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“That was me.” Felicia finally spoke, “I found him covered in blood and thought he was injured. But when I removed his shirt he turned out fine.”

Valor narrowed his eyes slightly, but did not contradict her.

Felicia grabbed the arrow lying next to her and changed the subject, “I think they tried to shoot Valor with this.”

Valor took the arrow, finally at a point where he could examine things with a clear mind.

“This is the same kind of fletching Robin Hood and his men use.” He immediately noted, and handed it to Fijo who looked at it and nodded in agreement.

“How could anyone with Robin Hood...” Felicia furrowed her brow.

“It wouldn’t be hard to copy a fletching.” Fijo pointed out.

Valor pursed his lips and nodded, “I doubt it’s him or his men. Last I heard he was over at the riverport raising hell for the slave traders.”

“Then…. A distraction? Scapegoat?”

“Kidnap the Heir and blame it on Robin Hood most likely.”

“Ah, then that means only one person. But to suddenly resort to violence after all these years…”

Fijo frowned slightly as they talked. He was still looking at the arrow. He noted the vicious jagged hooked arrow head and the bits of fresh goo and flesh still clinging to it. This was not an arrow that missed the mark. He glanced down from his horse, neither the Marchioness nor Valor seemed harmed in any way. But his brother was covered in blood and the ground was stained with blood as well.

If it weren’t for the fact that Valor was standing half naked, proving he had no injuries and talking just fine, Fijo would have 100% believed this arrow had hit him. Something definitely wasn’t right but it wasn’t the time to inquire and, frankly, he was fortunate if his brother really was without injury.

He just hoped the blood wasn’t Heir Rido’s instead…

At that moment Tie came galloping up on her own horse.

Much like Fijo, she cried out, “What happened?!”

“I thought I told you to stay in the mansion?” Felicia immediately scolded.

“Marchioness, how could I leave your side?” Tie’s eyes brimmed with tears but she quickly rubbed them dry with the palm of her hand and then noticed her older brother. 

“Why are you naked?!”

———

A half hour later, Valor was back in the mansion, washed of the worst of the blood and in a new uniform. Word had gone out that the Heir had been kidnapped. The entire mansion was on high alert.

Felicia’s legs were already suffering from riding bareback, so she could only sit down and tap the arms of her chair impatiently.

‘The frick is the Viscount doing, kidnapping my son?’ She raged as she mentally paced back and forth. ‘Even if he can put the blame on Robin Hood, he can’t kill Rido. If he kills him, he’ll lose his power.’

[It is unlikely the Viscount will kill Rido.] DARS agreed. [As to why… perhaps he realizes Rido is a threat?]

Felicia's fingers stopped tapping and turned into fists.

‘The Sunage Games...’

[It seems he was not calm about that at all.]

‘Ah, I knew I shouldn’t have let Rido win… but he just looked so pitiful when I said he needed to lose… arg, I’m a horrible mother…!’

[There is no point in regretting. What’s done can not be changed.]

‘I guess that’s true.’ She bit her lower lip. ‘Okay okay… So... he got the idea that Rido is extraordinary and, therefore, would not make a good puppet. Why kidnap him?’

DARS was quiet for a moment, [To threaten him into obedience?]

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

[If he can make Rido feel like he will lose something important by disobeying the Viscount, he can trap the young man in a similar way he has trapped you.]

Felicia was silent. 

‘And if threats don’t work?’

[He can’t kill him, but he can still break him. Either psychologically or, failing that, perhaps by making it so he can’t talk or even write.]

Felicia hissed, almost as if she’d been physically hit.

“Marchioness?” Tie had been sitting with her, anxiously waiting for news. 

Felicia waved her hand, “Nothing, nothing…”

As she did so, she noticed the “fake” tattoo on the back of her hand that only she could see. 

[Location Target]

This particular skill had been left unused, like most of what she’d gotten after completing her last mission. She could only track one person per timeline and she could never decide who to stalk—er,  follow, so she’d eventually forgotten it.

‘DARS, how do I get this [Location Target] thing to work?’

[Think “[Location Target] Activate Target” and then think of the target’s face.]

Felicia did as he instructed, her mind clearly visualizing Rido. The tattoo of a compass flashed brightly for a second and then the whole thing disappeared. Unconsciously she stretched her hand, feeling a little naked without it.

‘How do I use it?’

[There are two ways. Find a map and place your hand on it, think “Activate Target” , the location of your target will appear on the map, if his location is on that map.] FARS explained. [You can also think “Activate Target” without a map and an arrow only you can see will point you in the general direction of the person you’re looking for.]

Felicia blinked, a little surprised. ‘That’s… huh… that’s kind of useful?’

[There are no useless items, simply users who lack creativity in how to use them.]

She mentally rolled her eyes at him while turning to Tie.

“Get me a map of the March.”

Tie furrowed her brow but nodded. A few minutes later she came back with a rolled up piece of old parched paper.

Because Felicia was sore, Tie pulled up a small table and unrolled the map. This allowed Felicia to look at the map without getting up.

Felicia looked over the crude map and sighed. It was likely the Viscount had a newer, more accurate map. Placing her hand on the map, she thought “Activate Target”. Instantly an arrow made of white light appeared over a portion of the map. It was hovering over a small town that was about two hours from the Mansion.

‘What are the chances of the Viscount being near Rido?’

[Calculating… …]

[Usually the Viscount would not personally be involved but his underlings have made too many mistakes recently. There is a high likelihood that he will be personally involved with Querido’s kidnapping.]

‘How high is the likelihood?’

[74%]

‘You know DARS… It’s been a long time since I channeled the darker aspects of my host. I’m about overdue, don’t you think?’

[I do not understand.]

‘It’s just that...’

Her finger landed on the poorly drawn town and chuckled. 

“Found you.”

Tie had watched the Marchioness in puzzlement since bringing the map. She opened her mouth to ask what had been found, but the words stuck in her throat.

The Marchioness was smiling, but it was not a kind smile. It was malicious and cruel, filled with ill intentions.

‘...I’m really quite angry.’

———

Viscount Barrera frowned, a fat finger tapping on the desk in front of him. He’d been having Querido tortured in his hidden basement for several hours now. He’d hoped to break him quickly, but things had not gone as planned. Who knew the little lordling, despite living a cushy life, could be so mentally strong?

He kneaded his temples, the headache he’d developed earlier increasing. 

Ever since the Sunage Games the Viscount had realized he’d missed something crucial. He’d thought very carefully what it could be and eventually came to the conclusion the Marchioness had most likely broken their unspoken agreement, or had unwittingly been involved in undermining it.

Their deal had always been: he would be in charge of the fief, she would get the prestige and wealth. To keep their lifestyles going, Querido would be raised into a foolish simpleton, someone easy to manipulate. That way, once the young man became the Marquess, he would be controlled by the Marchioness and do whatever she said. 

Well, that had been what the Marchioness thought.

The Viscount intended on turning Querido against his mother after he inherited his title. It should be easy. He had been suppressed and belittled by her while he, the Viscount, always went out of his way to treat Querido kindly. Even intelligent people would naturally gravitate towards those that coddled and gave them what they wanted, much less a fool. Getting the boy to turn on his mother should be easy.

But that was only if he was raised to be an idiot. 

If Querido was intelligent, he would realize that both his mother and the Viscount were a problem that needed “cleaning up”. The Viscount could easily deal with the Marchioness, a greedy lascivious woman, but it was different for Querido. This boy wasn’t like his mother, who’d done terrible things in the dark. He couldn’t threaten him in the same way.

The best option would be to replace both mother and son. It’s not like Querido was the real heir to Fresa March after all. But exposing the Marchioness risked the Viscount losing Mora County, and he would not give up even the smallest bit of his land. A replacement would need to found before he could tear down these two fakes.

After looking into the Fresa Family tree, he discovered it was heavily dominated with women. Marquess Fresa having all girls was found to be normal within the family. Boys were rare. All the boys that had been born had been killed off by the Marchioness, leaving widows and women. 

He quietly kept digging until he stumbled on an illegitimate son of a 1st cousin quite by accident. That would have been excellent news, except for one problem: It was Claro Curtidor, former knight and current martial arts teacher to Querido.

This discovery rocked Viscount Barrera’s understanding of the situation. Everything else could be rationalized away, but not this. Claro Curtidor was a known bed partner of the Marchioness. Her attitude about many things changed the same year that man was brought into the estate. After being under Claro’s tutelage, Querido had turned into a strong, smart young man. 

From this, the Viscount suddenly felt he had a reason for why the Marchioness’ behavior changed: she had changed allegiances. Who knew what Claro Curtidor had promised her, it didn’t matter too much. What mattered was that illegitimate gigolo had turned both the Marchioness and the Heir against him.

Barrera absolutely wouldn’t tolerate it. He needed to do something before things got further out of hand.

Claro Curtidor could be made to disappear and the Marchioness could suffer an “accident”, but the Fresa Heir was still needed as the Viscount couldn’t find a replacement for him. A boy who could beat out his peers as easily as had been reported to him would not bow down with just some small threats or coxing. A strong persuasion and example would be needed.

Viscount Barrera had thus far been using the “soft” method to get his way. Seeing that had backfired, he would resort to his tried and true method: torture until the mind crumbles and the will is broken. If that won’t work, break the body in such a way to prevent further objections.

As for examples, he got rid of that slave-servant always hovering around Querido. The young Heir seemed to like that strange looking slave. Killing him in front of the boy would serve a strong deterrent in the future.

If that didn’t work, well, there were other people he could dispose of, starting with Claro Curtidor. Barrera firmly believed that Querido would not be so excellent if he hadn’t been secretly trained by the former knight. That being the case, whatever he acted on the surface, it was most likely the case there was strong affection between student and teacher. He could use Curtidor’s life as a threat, and then kill the cripple for even the tiniest show of disobedience from Querido to engrave fear into the young man’s heart.

After all, he had no intention of letting Claro Curtidor live. A disobedient pawn was better dead than alive to make trouble later. The current situation was a perfect example of why.

As for the Marchioness…. Viscount had always planned on killing her, but when was still up for debate. Clearly it would be sooner rather than later. But he still had a niggling doubt about whether she was a pawn or the queen in this chess game of power. Killing a pawn was different than killing a queen. 

He would use Querido as both bait and to determine exactly how powerful she was in this little rebellion of theirs.

On the lighter note, his setup of Robin Hood had gone wonderfully well. He’d been trying to find a way to call in reinforcements to deal with that damnable outlaw without having his own situation looked into too closely for years. With the death of the Valet and the crippling of the Heir, he could reroute everyone’s attention and vilify his enemy in one step.

Speaking of crippling the Heir…

He rang the bell on his desk. A skinny man with a mean face came to the door.

“Give our guest a 10 minute break. I will be down shortly.”

———

Rido leaned against the cold, stone wall exhausted. His hands were chained above his head while his feet were chained to the floor. He was covered in bruises and cuts, bleeding from every part of his body. Through the blood and dirt on his face, old tear stains could be faintly made out.

He didn’t know how long he’d been in this room. 

Earlier in the day he’d been riding Glorious around the estate, like he usually did, when someone shot Valor in the heart. He’d watched in horror as his friend collapsed on the ground in a bloody heap. For a moment, Rido couldn’t decide whether to run or try to save his friend and froze. 

That moment of indecision cost him and he’d gotten captured.

The people who got him stuck a sack over his head, tied him up, and knocked him out. When he came to, he was in this place with a man who said nothing but continually cut and hit him. No matter how many times Rido asked, the silent torturer never explained what was going on.

Rido had always considered himself tough, but he was in no way prepared to see his brother die in front of him and then get promptly tortured for no apparent reason. He’d quickly collapsed into a shameful, sniveling heap.

And then, without any warning, the silent torturer left and all he had was his thoughts.

There was a buzzing in his ear and pain eminating from every part of his body. Images of Valor getting shot kept replaying in his mind, creating an emotional pain just as intense as what his body was feeling. Valor definitely hadn’t survived. 

His friend and companion had his life snuffed out without any warning. Why? 

Why? Why? Why? Why?

And then, like he’d reached enlightenment, his mind stilled. With crystal clarity a single conclusion pierced through:

Viscount Barrera.

Just as he came to his answer, the person in question arrived.

“You—!” 

In a blind rage, Rido strained against his shackles, wishing he could tear Barrera apart with his bare hands.

Barrera watched Rido reach towards him like a mad animal and chuckled.

“You still have energy to put up a fight?” The tubby man walked forward, remaining just out of reach of Rido. “And here he claims to be an expert at torture, tsk tsk.”

Actually Rido didn’t have much energy left and, after the initial spurt of adrenaline fueled by his rage, he was exhausted again. He slumped in his chains, breathing heavily and glaring at the Viscount.

Barrera walked over to a table lined with instruments of torture. Just watching him pick various items up to examine them was enough to cause Rido to start shaking uncontrollably.

“....why?” He asked sluggishly.

“Why? I think you know very well why.” The Viscount spoke evenly, picking up a hefty mallet thoughtfully. He glanced at Rido, “Smart boys aren’t any use to me, you know.”

Rido gulped, understanding and regret surging through him at the same time.

His Mother had said, over and over again, that the Viscount shouldn’t be treated lightly. He was extremely dangerous. But he hadn’t listened.

Since as far back as he could remember, the Viscount had treated him respectfully. The disconnect between what his mother told him of the Viscount and what he saw with his own eyes caused him to lower his guard. Even if the Viscount was a terrible person, he seemed to have some understanding of what lines can and can’t be crossed. 

That was why he insisted on winning something in the Sunage Games. 

Even if the Viscount figured things out, what could the puggy man actually do to them? All this time, the only people the Viscount had hurt were those with less status than him. He was a terrible bully but he’d never directly harmed the Marchioness or Heir. It never occurred to him this had been precisely because of his Mother hiding them and not because the Viscount had restraint.

He’d made a terrible mistake and Valor had paid with his life for it.

This was something he could never forgive himself for… he’d been selfish just once and someone dear to him had died because of it…

Guilt and grief pierced his heart like a knife.

“Now then, it was due to my amicable nature that you turned into such a fine, upstanding man.” The Viscount tapped the mallet on the table and eyed Querido, as if measuring him. “I can only apologize for that. My negligence is what caused all this. If I had been a little firmer, a little harsher, you could have remained blissfully ignorant, able to enjoy the best the world has to offer.” He sighed, as if sad, and began walking towards the chained young man. “But now you’ll have to suffer.”

Rido pressed his back against the cold, stone wall as the Viscount neared, shivering uncontrollably in fear.

“Do you know? This is the first time I’ve done this to a high noble. The thought of what is to come... It’s thrilling!” Barrera tilted his head, eyes squinted and a pleased smile on his flabby face, “Since it’s my first time,” He used the mallet to forcefully lift Querido face up to stare at him, “I will make sure you stay awake until the very end.” 

In the corner of the room, an invisible white orb with a blank face hastily left, going right through the ceiling as if it were air.

———

Outside the small town had quietly been taken over. Those who would usually give forewarning had died so quickly they hadn’t even realized what happened. The tall stately house was quickly surrounded by well-muscled men in ordinary clothes. All of them were carrying bludgeons, daggers, and on their left arms were small sturdy shields.

Standing in a corner, hidden by a neary house, a woman with black hair and eyes stood carrying a nasty looking cat-o-nine whip. Metal bits gleamed at the end of each “tail”. Behind her were three people, one woman and two men, gleaming bronze in the sun.

A man walked over and whispered, “Our people are all out.” 

The woman spoke in a low but calm voice, “Kill everyone left inside.”

“Servants and children included?”

She grimaced, “The children may live but make sure they see what happens to traitors of their lord.”

The man simply nodded and left.

The invisible orb floated down and spoke words no one else could hear.

[Are you really alright with killing the servants and having children witness the slaughter?] 

A slight sneer played across the woman's lips as she thought, ‘How many people died while those servants happily took his money and made his life comfortable? As for the children… I’m being lenient letting them live.’

The orb was silent for several seconds before saying quietly, as if to himself, [Indeed, the host’s influence is quite strong.]

One of the young men took a step forward, but the black haired woman raised her whip. “I agreed to bring you on the premise you will not enter.”

“But—”

“No.”

The young man furrowed his brow and bit his lip. The girl beside him took him by the arm and shook her head.

As they had been talking, the men unlocked the front and the back doors, quietly entering. Half a scream was heard and then a thud and scuffling. The two bronze siblings shivered, realizing what they’d just heard was someone die. 

However, the oldest of them and the woman with black hair simply watched impatiently, silently urging the men to kill faster.

———

Felicia walked over dead bodies indifferently, as if stepping over mounds of dirt.

When she first came to this timeline, this gruesome scene would have made her nauseated. After inhabiting Calle for so many years, her feelings about the value of human life had… dulled. It’s not that she didn’t, logically, believe people had value. But emotionally she was ambivalent towards those who were not her responsibility or who had been labelled her enemies.

Basically, she had developed a modified kind of tribalism that was common for her host’s era.

While this was going down a step for Felicia, it was going up a step for Calle. Originally Calle only cared about herself and even in that sense was very short sighted. It took a lot of work to get Calle to the point where she had any kind of affection for people other than herself.

Whether it was morally good or bad for Felicia to view dead bodies as piles of trash, that’s exactly how she felt about them in that moment. 

One of the men ran up to her anxiously and spoke softly, “We have searched the whole house and we can’t find Barrera. Our spies say that he will frequently disappear from his office without a trace, only to reappear a while later as if nothing happened. We think that is what happened. He was definitely here before we entered.”

Felicia snorted, “He has a secret room and the entrance is in his office.”

The man nodded in agreement. “Yes, but we’ve also searched the office and can’t find anything.”

“Then I will go take a look. Lead the way.” 

She wished she could directly go to the office and open the secret passage that DARS had told her about, but for appearances sake she had to pretend like she didn’t know anything. While the dead scattered throughout the house didn't bother her, the wasted time “pretending” bothered her a great deal. Her son was suffering while she was acting ignorant.

Impatiently she searched the width and length of the office. After doing so twice, she stopped at the two narrow but heavy looking bookcases situated in the middle of the wall. To the left of the book case was a chair and to the right a small table.  She walked over to the small table and moved it. The floor was ever so slightly scuffed. She smiled.

“Grab these two bookcases and pull.” Felicia motioned what she wanted and the men immediately obeyed.

The bookcases smoothly separated, except for near the end when they dragged across the floor, creating the original scuff marks. Felicia looked at the door. It was made of thick, heavy wood with an impressive looking lock on it.

“Search the male corpses for keys.” She instructed after a moment of thought.

There ought to be at least two keys. One on Barrera and another on nearby a trusted aide. After several minutes a man came back with several keys. There were two that looked like they might fit. The first failed, which meant the second one was likely the key.

Taking a deep breath she spoke to the men clustered around her.

“When I open this door, you need to rush down and subdue Barrera. I don’t care how you get him, just make sure his legs still work so we don’t have to haul him around.” She paused and then added, “And gag him as quickly as possible. The less he has to say, the better.”

It would be extremely bad for her and Rido if he started spouting off anything.

“Alright, on the count of 3…”

She inserted the key and counted down. On 3, she turned it, causing a loud click and then pulled the door open. The men rushed in, Felicia following closely after them.

The door led to a set of wide stairs, down into a basement.

The scene that greeted Felicia would be seared into her mind until the day she left this timeline:

Rido shackled to a stone wall, hanging limpy, bloody and bruised. His right hand mangled, barely looking like a hand anymore. His face was sheet white, lips bloodless, eyes dazed. The smell of blood, vomit, and piss was everywhere.

Whatever was happening to Barrera, she didn’t care. There was only Rido in front of her.

Usually Felicia and her host had very differing opinions on how to respond to any given situation, but in that moment they both agreed: they were both infuriated. White hot rage swirled inside Felicia, amplified by her host. It was so strong that, for a moment, she was immobilized and forgot to breath.

It was only when she gasped, her body instinctively seeking fresh air, did she come back to herself. Her entire being seemed to exude fury, but on her face there was only calmness.

‘DARS, where’s the key to the shackles?’

DARS jumped slightly in the air. He could sense his User’s emotions in a similar way that a human could feel heat or cold. She was so angry it was like standing next to the sun. He’d never seen her that angry before and it startled him.

He zoomed over to a table, [Here.]

Felicia quickly walked over and picked it up, going directly to the broken young man. She knelt down, ignoring the filthy floor around him, and reached out to unlock the shackles. At her touch, he flinched, moving his body as far away from her as he could.

She swallowed hard and then spoke gently, “My son, I am here.”

There was only a whimper and trembling in response. She closed her eyes for a second, breathing deeply, and then unlocked the shackles. He fell heavily to the floor and she only just managed to catch him.

He looked up at her, for the first time seeing her. His mouth moved, as if he wanted to say something, and then promptly passed out.

Running her fingers across his beaten face, her lips trembled and her heart felt like it was being stabbed over and over again. 

Throwing caution to the wind, she told DARS, ‘Give me another [Cure-All].’

[I… can’t.]

Her eyes flickered towards him, blazing with anger and accusation.

DARS scooted up towards the ceiling, [Don’t get mad at me! Who decided to upgrade the store to a tablet?! You are 100RD short!]

Felicia bit her lip so hard it bled. She never hated herself as much as she did then. How could she stupidly waste her reward money like that? 

To repair Rido’s hand would require surgery using equipment and knowledge that didn’t exist in this world yet. The only hope to fix it was using [Cure-All]. Without that, his hand would never heal properly, causing him severe pain and, eventually, need to be amputated. 

It turned out she’d told Valor the truth. By curing him, she had made a sacrifice. Her son would be crippled for the rest of his life.

“Marchioness,” One of her men awkwardly interrupted, “We should take the young lord out and have a doctor—”

“I know!” She snapped and then frowned. Lashing out at her people didn’t accomplish anything. She forced herself to relax. “Bring my son to Valor in the meantime and do as he tells you. Get the doctor along the way.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Two men came over and, with the utmost care, lifted Rido up and carried him out of the dank, disgusting prison.

With Rido gone, she remembered Barrera. 

It appears he tried to fight his capture. One of her men was knocked out cold on the floor and Barrera had a swelling bruised face, bloody broken nose, and at least one broken arm. He’d been tightly constrained using thick ropes and was gagged just as she’d ordered. Some of her pent up rage was released seeing him in such terrible condition.

At her approach, Barrera surged up, only to get roughly pressed back down by the surrounding men. 

“Make sure he can’t move while I speak to him.” 

She walked right up to him and leaned near his ear.

“It was due to my amicable nature that you were allowed to run wild and free.” She whispered, quoting back the words he’d spoken to her son earlier, “I can only apologize for that. My negligence is what caused all this. If I had been a little firmer, a little harsher, you could have remained blissfully ignorant, able to enjoy the best the world has to offer.”

Barrera began to tremble as she spoke. How did she know he’d said that? He had been alone!

The arrogance and anger disappeared from his face and all that was left was fear.

He stared at her and could think of only one thing: Witch.

She leaned away from him, smiling widely at his terrified expression. Her eyes narrowed as she finished:

“But now you’ll have to…. suffer.”