St. Jean, city of dreams, pearl of the coast, heart of the empire.

Not the capital of the empire, mind you. The crown had never quite liked the site as much as the lords and ladies did, perhaps because the crown still remembered just who the eponymous Saint Jean had been.

The patron saint of the monarchy, who had raised a great fortress from the ocean, then fought back countless armies until ultimately forging two crowns into one—after chopping off the heads those two crowns had been resting on.

That last detail tended to put some sweat on the brows of every visiting monarch.

Still, the city had grown and become the center of learning, trade, and consequently, wealth. Ladies decked in the finest silks, houses adorned with exotic eastern porcelain, and theatres filled with grand and lavish performances—it was a place to make a [Thief] dream.

But, as always, such places bury dark secrets. Deadly secrets.

It was a wintry morning, dark and cloudy. A carriage was rolling into town, gently rumbling over the snow-covered cobblestone streets. Within the carriage sat a certain [Maid], staring intently at a knife in her hands. Every few seconds, the lanternlight would glint off her blade, illuminating the [Lady] sitting opposite her, face innocent as the snow outside.

Murder rode into the city, but were they really the first? No—of course not. In this city, murder had been lurking for a long, long time.

 

—

 

Far from the elegant apartments of the gentry, in the grimier parts of town where the snow was stained black, a man paced the streets restlessly. The few passing by at this hour did not see him, for he did not wish to be seen.

He was waiting—and getting impatient. The dagger in his hands was agitated, and he was starting to eye the windows of the house he stalked.

Should he just go inside? Nobody here could stop him, but that wasn’t quite his style. It would be… inelegant. There had to be a separation between the before and the now.

Then—finally—he heard the door open. His form melted to shadow, and he sat still, observing the young woman who had just stepped outside. A weary but still pretty face, with too many creases for her age. Humble clothes, but the man knew the sack on her shoulder held finer ones.

They were only used for work.

The woman grimaced at the snow piling high but steadied herself, and began trudging through the snow, face fixed in determination. Her breath fogged, and her face grew red, but the bite of frost and wind was merciful this night.

She walked, and a man was close behind. But he left no footprints, his breath did not fog. Like a vengeful ghost, he followed, waiting for the perfect moment. The most… artistic moment.

It came all too soon.

The woman turned a corner and stepped into a narrow alleyway, only ten paces away from her home’s door. Ten paces she would never get past. The man tapped into a skill, felt the world shift…

And the woman stared dully at the dagger in her neck. The snow was stained red, and gurgles of blood kept down her scream. A vicious mask and long cloak were all she saw. And a dagger that was raising up and up and up…

The man, no, the murderer stabbed down, again and again, piercing her chest and stomach a dozen times before she even registered it. Her body collapsed. But he just—kept stabbing.

Again and again and again and again and again—

Until finally, he stood there, panting, staring at his grim handiwork, once again feeling that blissful satisfaction and power. Behind the mask, his face was grinning. He could already picture the newspapers.

Shock, disgust, fear. Warnings and speculation, promises and prayers. But none of it really mattered. He would always find victims, and come dawn, the bodies would be discovered, and people would whisper the name in fear.

Ripper.

It didn’t matter if they moved in groups or under guard, if they had levels and power, even if they never left home at all. He was stronger. And he got stronger every time. Tonight had been too easy—indulgence.

Only then, basking in the afterglow, did he look up at the sky and realize how long tonight’s work had taken him. It was nearly light.

“…I’m going to be late…”

Tucking his dagger into his belt, he turned on his heels and stalked into the night. Towards the real core of St. Jean. Not the docks, not the markets, not the finest of housing districts, no. This city had only one real centrepiece.

The Academy.

 

—

 

The Dual Monarchy was a grand country, perhaps the greatest in the world, and naturally, had many great places of learning. However, whenever one mentioned an academy or spoke of the academy, there would only be one place they meant.

St. Jean Academy, where the finest minds of the empire would be polished to perfection. Only accepting students with an uncommon class, it was a site of great ambition, which could drive minds to both despair and triumph.

Alberta wasn’t quite sure which of those feelings she was currently enduring. A new semester was starting at the academy, and as was tradition, the new students had to be greeted properly.

“Just a speech—it’s just a speech,” Alberta muttered, shivering from everything except the cold as she paced by the podium she was soon to climb. The seaside plaza the ceremony was to be held in sat atop the seawall, and strong currents and winds ceaselessly battered the beach below. The assembled older students and members of clergy faced the wind bravely, in sharp contrast to the shivering newcomers.

Dawn was coming, and Alberta’s eyes kept flitting back to the ocean behind her, where the majestic academy sat, upon a lonely rock jutting out of the sea. Once, a great saint had pulled that very rock out of the ocean, creating an unassailable fortress. In time, an academy had been built atop it, like a crown over the dark cliffs.

The rock, Mont Saint Jean, was barely a thousand feet away from the shore, but the restless ocean separating it from the city was as intimidating a moat as one could ask for. If she were a [General], Alberta couldn’t even begin to imagine how it could be assaulted.

However, her task wasn’t to keep people away from the rock, but to welcome them in. She was no [General]—only a student union president, and [Mage Lady].

Suddenly, her restless pacing was disturbed by a yell. Alberta whipped her gaze to the source and saw that some of the new students had walked right to the edge of the quay, where a great splash of cold seawater threatened to douse their fine silks.

“Get away from the edge!” Alberta shouted as a precise thread of mana rushed from her fingertips. Lightning fast, she wove an elegant pattern to shield the new students, and they watched with wide eyes as the water splattered against an unseen wall.

Alberta grimaced as her glasses fogged up and released the magic. “Get out of the way I said!”

“Oh—sorry!”

“Apologies!”

“My bad!”

The ladies said, bowing apologetically as they hurried to back away from the waterfront.

Alberta shook her head—it was always the same every year but couldn’t really blame the newbies much. After all, the academy was a majestic sight. Who wouldn’t be awestrack on their first time?

“Reliable as always, I see,” A familiar voice said from Alberta’s side.

The young woman spun around and shouted out in surprise. “Eugenie! You of all people dragged yourself to the opening ceremony?”

Eugenie was an odd friend for her to have, for it wasn’t typical of model students to engage with troublemakers. Alberta was always diligent in her studies and dressed in the most modest and proper dresses possible, but her friend was… problematic.

Already, Alberta could sense the whispers and stares from the newcomers. Oh, it wasn’t quite a matter of rule-breaking, Eugenie was wearing the academy’s uniform after all, just—the men’s uniform.

It suited her. Short pixie cut hair with a dark military jacket, long legs adorned in grey pants with a rapier in its sheathe—she was the epitome of outrageousness, or perhaps chivalry.

“How could I miss you embarrassing yourself in front of everyone?” She said, giving Alberta a pat to the head.

“Don’t say you came just to tease me, Eugie…” Alberta sulked, before sitting down on the podium’s steps, eyes shut. “I’m not confident in my speech at all!”

Eugenie chuckled. “Don’t worry, I was just joking. The reason I’m here… well, I felt worried.”

Alberta opened one eye. “About what?”

Her friend grimaced. “Did you read the papers?”

“More murders?”

Eugenie nodded. “Again and again, each more brutal than the last. And now with all these newcomers coming…”

Alberta nudged her friend. “You want to bravely stand guard, rapier at the ready?”

“…something like that.”

“Please, we’ve got guards at the ready, and the types of students we get are hardly defenseless. He’s only gone after… disreputable sorts, right?”

“As far as we know of, perhaps. Is everyone here, then? Safe and secure?”

Alberta scanned the crowd and counted the faces she didn’t recognize. The students were easy to pick out among servants and family members, and she soon rounded out her tally. “It’s still a good few minutes until we begin, and most people seem to have arrived… except that countess.”

Eugenie gave her a questioning look. “That countess?”

“Haven’t you heard of her? The Countess Du Mont Krist. I’ve been wanting to talk to her ever since I heard she would attend.”

“No, I’ve heard of her, it’s just—” the taller woman pointed at a corner of the plaza, far from the other mingling students, where a lone pair of women were silently waiting, like perched ravens. “—I think she’s already here.”

Alberta rose to her feet and followed Eugenie’s motion. “You know her?”

“No—but I came right after them and heard her announce herself to the official.”

After hesitating a moment, Alberta began to walk toward the pair. “Wait here—I’ll go introduce myself.”

 

—

 

The countess had been a subject of much gossip when the story of her tragic circumstance had first broken. A sole survivor of tragedy, and heir to a modest fortune—what family with a son to spare wouldn’t have their eyes on her?

However, when her arrival to the city and academy had been delayed and delayed, interest gradually waned in the face of new stories and new drama. Still, the sharpest minds did not forget, and thus Alberta had been given instructions regarding this newcomer.

Who is she? What is her worth?

As she shuffled through the crowd of students, she found the Woman standing at the plaza’s edge to be a rather different figure from what she had imagined. In her speculations, Alberta had expected a demure sort, someone unused to the city’s splendor, shivering in quiet recovery from her traumas.

But the figure she found instead was a proud one.

“Excuse me, Countess Du Mont Krist I presume?”

Two blue eyes shifted to Alberta as she offered her hand, and a deep black dress ruffled as the countess stepped closer. It would be a soft face, but the violet tinge to her lips transformed it into something more severe, almost alluring. And the black hair…

Black hair? Alberta blinked as the countess shook her hand. Something was off about the countess’ straight black hair, almost as if… Ah, dyed, Alberta finally realized, fixing a smile on her face. It was fashionable some seasons ago.

“Who do I have the pleasure of greeting?” The countess asked, after removing her hand and giving a curt bow.

“Call me Alberta, if you would. President of the student union, at your service. Please feel free to rely on me if you have any questions. Has everything been arranged to your satisfaction?”

The countess beckoned a hand, and the [Maid] by her side removed a file from her apron, which she handed over. “I had some questions regarding these forms… bringing a servant to the academy, you understand?”

Alberta took the files and leafed them through quickly, before glancing at the [Maid] in question. She was taller than the countess, with sharp features and impeccable poise. “Ah, you wished to have your maid attend you inside the academy?”

The countess had an odd smile on her face. “Yes, Fayette here is quite… indispensable. Without her, I simply could not manage at all.”

There was something to the atmosphere between the two that made Alberta pause and take a second look. The way they stood together and especially the countess…

Is she one of those ladies who, as they say, appreciates their maids a tad too much? Alberta handed the file back and kept her smile fixed. Well, not my business. Hopefully, she is less trouble than Eugenie.

“Everything seems to be fine, countess. Or how should I address you? We don’t like to think of rank while in the academy.”

The dark-haired woman nodded. “The name is Annemarie, but please call me Marie.”

The [Mage Lady] nodded. “Alberta Mondoug at your service.”

As she said the name, Alberta sensed a sudden tension from the other two, like a gust of razor-sharp wind. Just a single moment, and then it was past.

“Is something the matter?” Alberta asked, curious.

“Oh—nothing. It’s just… we didn’t expect such a warm welcome. Just a bit of nerves.”

Alberta smiled and stepped off to the side, revealing the academy towering behind her. “It is quite the sight, isn’t it? But now—oh. What is it, Bertuccio?”

A man clad in a black and white suit had appeared right next to her, as if out of thin air, but Alberta wasn’t spooked. She smiled and turned to her new friends who had frozen still from the shock. “Pardon Bertuccio, he is fond of sudden appearances. My [Butler], you understand.”

Not just any [Butler], but the very epitome of one. With silverish hair and elegant poise, he was the highest-level servant Alberta knew of. The man coldly regarded the newcomers, especially the [Maid], in his usual judging manner.

And the [Maid]—Alberta sighed. The poor girl is almost vibrating from nerves! In fact, the countess had a panicked expression and was holding onto the maid with one hand, probably to make sure she stayed standing.

“Bertuccio, please don’t bully my new acquaintances!”

The [Butler] turned back to her, face not moving a muscle. “Of course miss. I merely came to inform you that the master has arrived, and he is expecting your speech.”

“Oh, already? Apologies, Marie, I must be going. As you can see, duty calls.”

Alberta fixed her spectacles to sit better on her nose, then pointed at the [Podium], where the [Grand Magus] was giving her a pointed look.

The countess gave her a tense smile. “…Sure. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It was my pleasure.”

With Bertuccio clearing the way, it was easy to get through the gaggle of students and back to the podium, where Alberta stopped to take a deep breath. Right—speech time.

Eugenie was standing off to the side with the other older students and gave her an encouraging nod, which Alberta answered gratefully. She circled to the podium, to the [Grand Magus] who was waiting at its base.

Only Alberta heard his words as she passed, spoken with quiet magic. “Walk with pride, Alberta. You deserve your position.”

She nodded as she stepped past and whispered her answer. “Thanks—papa.”

Then she was up there on the podium, staring at the assembled students, family members, and servants. Her eyes searched the crowd, once more finding the countess standing right at the back, with a maid by her side.

And for a moment, Alberta’s smile shook.

Oh, the countess was smiling alright, perfectly polite, but the [Maid]… she was smiling too. Why does that make me nervous?

 

—

 

Marie breathed a sigh of relief as the girl finally began her speech. Things seem to be going mostly fine… thank the saints for the [Acting] skill.

“Looks like we’re in the clear,” Fayette said, next to her, eyes locked on the [Grand Magus].

“We won’t be if you don’t rein yourself in. At least that [Butler] didn’t cause issues…”

Fayette spat onto the ground. “Did you really think I would make a scene? It’s just a [Butler].”

“Well… you almost did. But his aura was pretty frightening—has to be over level 40.”

“How about the girl? She seemed nice.”

Marie looked at the bespectacled [Mage Lady] making a good effort at her speech. “Seemed to be a friendly sort. But her name…”

Fayette nodded. “Yep, murdering her dad is going to make things so awkward.”

“Fay! Don’t say—”

 

—

 

And so, as a countess arrived at St. Jean, some took note of her. What would she do? Was she really all she had been made out to be? With the events to come, more and more eyes would flock to her.

But they were all making a mistake. Only in retrospect would the survivors recall their error. Yes, all eyes were on the countess, but—

They should have watched the maid.