To The Knife [Complete]

[HypoSoc]

I have a sneaking thought that somebody, perhaps a certian Captian would have a few words to say about trying to stop wars like that.

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I dont know who you are referecing in this particular instance.

But they do sound neat, nothing like murdering millions of innocents to gain glory.

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There are usually at least a couple hundred or thousand guilty among the millions of innocents, so it all works out.

 

[HypoSoc]

After thirteen hours of continuous fighting and decontamination we finally overcome Dr. Taskin's horrors. Perhaps a full third of the villagers perished in the plague, and the village itself was rendered into ruins.

I don't know how the mundane authorities will rationalize this devastation. Vavs have great difficulty recognizing magic or its results.

True to Electra's word, not a single one of us perished on the mission, though there are a number of serious injuries. As they are too wounded for travel, Electra ordered a compartment of League medics to meet us in Finland.

Rather than return without the injured, Electra has us stay in the country. She goes as far as buying out a small spa resort in order to "reward us for our exemplary achievement in the face of unexpected adversity."

It's something of a departure from the expected response by a noble. As servants and members of the Thaumaturgical League, our efforts in cases like this are demanded by duty. Death and injury are simple risks of life. Servants have no right to expect reward or recognition. The base compensation is considered generous enough.

But I can see the logic to it. If we are staying anyway, there is no reason for it to not be at a resort.

And so, amidst the strange staples of a Finnish spa, I find myself dragged along to one of its cultural icons: the sauna.

This is not, inherently, a problem for me. The concept sounds quite relaxing for my sore body, and I don't expect any issues with the temperature. Nor do I particularly have problems with nudity. The shared living spaces of the servant's quarters serve well to desensitize a person. And the resort itself separates its sauna by genders.

The problem, rather, is that I am currently wearing the body of a woman. And the other female servant is too injured to attend.

Meaning that I am alone with My Lady in the sauna, with not a shred of clothing between us.

My eyes are firmly peeled on the empty space straight ahead of me, locked in place so they have no chance of moving.

My Lady is in disguise, it is true. But her ability does not extend nearly as far as my Protean. Her hair is dyed and the contours of her face are molded in part. But My Lady had selected a target that was close enough to her form that clothing alone could mask the subtle differences.

This is My Lady's body sitting next to me, not even wearing a towel. Even in the steaming heat of the sauna, I can hear her every breath. I can feel every beat of my heart.

"Hm." Catherine sighs. "This is nice."

I say nothing. I don't dare look.

Catherine leans into me. I can feel her shoulder press into mine. I freeze.

"It is unfortunate that we are so depleted." Catherine says, ignoring my discomfort. "This would be the ideal time to kill Electra."

The topic is a great blessing. I find I can focus on it instead. "She should be just as exhausted. It may still be a fair match."

"No," Catherine's words are firm, even in her relaxed state. "Even if she has nothing else, Electra still has Nemean. We will not be able to harm her. Unless you managed to smuggle in any of the poisons we prepared?"

"I apologize, My Lady. I did not think it was safe."

"Hmmm. I agree with your judgment. There was too much surveillance before we left. We will find another opportunity. For now, we can simply relax."

As if I could relax. I feel tenser now than I was before. But it is good that My Lady, at least, can find enjoyment in this small respite. We had not had any true rest in months now.

I close my eyes and try to meditate.

My attempt is immediately thwarted by the door opening. I am shocked to see Electra enter the sauna. I am just as shocked to note that she has as little issue with nudity as My Lady.

I choke back any noise and force myself to look in a less dangerous direction. One of Catherine's fingers brushes against my hand.

The door closes behind her. "Ah… finally. I've been looking forward to this all day. You two mind if I ramp up the heat?"

"It is no problem at all, Lady Electra." "Whatever you desire, Lady Electra." Catherine and I respond in turn.

"Great." Electra splashes a large amount of water on the stones, generating a burst of steam. She takes the opportunity to work some magic, raising the temperature even further.

Electra sits herself directly across from me, sighing happily. I find the number of safe angles decreasing rapidly.

In the corner of my eye, I see Electra staring at me. "What's got you so flustered, Lucile? It's just skin. Nothing you've never seen before."

Lucile… it's the name of the body I am wearing. I try to respond as she would have. "It is improper, Lady Electra."

"Improper? Bah. We've fought together now. Bled together. Overcome a rat bastard together. As far as I'm concerned, we're blood sisters and that matters more than any stupid nobility nonsense. After the absolute bullshit we just had to deal with, I don't want you thinking you're anything less than me. Hell, I'd march over to Anthony and the others right now and demand a mixed bath, if I didn't know they'd panic and flee from the impropriety." She chuckles. "So, I'll let them relax."

As it is what Lucile would do, I turn to face forward. I am forced to drink in the whole of her form. Nothing is obscured.

I can feel the nail of Catherine's finger stab into my hand sharply. Accepting the chastisement for what it is, I try to look straight in Electra's eyes. But I can still make out most of her naked body.

Electra grins. "There we go. Not a big deal. So long as we are here, don't worry about any of that stuffy shit. Speak your minds. Nobody is watching."

"If that is the case, Lady Electra," My Lady speaks with some hidden edge in her voice. "I must disagree. The precepts of nobility, of master and servant, have inherent value. It is a matter of virtue, prudence, and mutual respect. We should not be so quick to discard them."

"Hah, you sure are quick to take advantage of it, Marie, disagreeing with me so directly. It's refreshing." Electra grins. "But honestly, all of that… It's just bullshit. Petty little people playing petty little games, pretending any of it matters. I was the fourth child of the grand a mighty House Alsace, a spare to the spare to the spare, with cousins to spare. I've been extraneous all my life, just someone for my mother to sell off once she got a good enough deal. And I'm supposed to pretend I'm somehow sacrosanct? That my bloodline matters at all? What a joke." She makes a mocking laugh. "It's funny, you know? I spent most of my childhood knowing there were just too many people ahead of me for me to ever actually matter, and now all that is left of the great and glorious House Alsace is me, my brother, and a tired old man. Such a pathetic lark."

"A House is not just its members, My Lady," Catherine insists. "It is the reputation, the history, the potential. It is the power it wields, the loyalty it commands, the household it employs. A House is bigger than any person, living or dead. It is the whole of its story, from start to finish. Death is insufficient to diminish any House."

"And I simply don't give a damn." Electra shrugs. "Not about the vaunted House or its future. If it weren't for my dearest brother, I would have left a long time ago."

"Your feelings are immaterial. You are a part of House Alsace because you can never be separated from it. There is, and never will be, an 'Electra' who is not 'd'Alsace.'"

"Marie," I interject, prodding My Lady's finger as subtly as I can. "Perhaps the heat is getting to you? Or your exhaustion?" Catherine is getting far too worked up about this subject. It is hitting her too close to home and she is getting sloppy in her tired state. I need to stop her before she goes any further. "Lady Electra, I sincerely apologize."

Catherine blinks and seems to realize herself. "Ah, my deepest apologies, Lady Electra. I have forgotten myself. I will accept any punishment you deem fit."

There is something of a scowl on Electra's face, but it parts shortly. "I suppose it's my fault for granting permission to speak freely. I should have expected that would include opinions I disagree with. Lucile? More steam."

I nod and splash more water on the stones.

"To address your unstated concerns," Electra continues. "I have no plans of dissolving the household, nor of convincing my brother to do the same. Your continued employment is not in question." She offers a wry grin. "It's not the being rich and powerful I have issue with, after all." She sighs. "In truth, I simply wish I could spend the whole of my time doing this." She gestures vaguely.

"I presume you mean missions for the League rather than indulging in a spa?" I say.

"Indeed. Though the spa is nice," Electra smiles. "Serving the League, fighting monsters, saving people… there's no bullshit in any of that… other than the shit you sometimes have to fight. There is no question of right or wrong, no selfishness, no backstabbing. There is no need to be polite or courteous or remember all those tangled webs of alliances and suck ups. It's just a simple world I can rip and tear through without a doubt in my mind. Instead I'm stuck dealing with bullshit."

There is a crunch as bits of the bench Electra is gripping splinters in her grip.

She takes a deep breath.

"I think…" she says. "In a perfect world, it would just be me and my dearest brother hunting down monsters until we finally die."

"Lady Electra… surely you can't mean you want to die?" I affect a shocked voice.

"No. Not particularly." She shrugs. "I don't want to get old. And I don't want to settle down. I don't ever plan on having a family. So, dying in a fight is the only end I can imagine. I think I could accept that, if I died for some noble cause and not some stupid, petty reason. 'Live without regrets and die without grudges.' That's the ideal, isn't it?"

"An admirable goal, Lady Electra," I nod. "But do you think it is truly possible?"

"If you avoid all the petty bullshit, sure. As far as I can tell, Regrets happen when you get tied up in all sorts of intangibles and convince yourself not to do what you want. Grudges happen when you care too much about things that don't matter. Propriety, prestige, power, tradition, it's like all of the League's nobility exists to create regrets and grudges. So I try not to care. It's much better to care about a good fight or a good massage."

Electra nods to herself. "Speaking of… Lucile, you are training in massage, right? Mind giving me a rub down?"

"Ah…" I freeze in place. I try to look at Catherine for guidance out of the corner of my eye, but her face is blank. Her finger is digging hard into my hand.

"Oh, never mind that. I'll get one of the staff here to do it after I'm done. You should be relaxing yourself, not catering to me." She stretches wide, producing a view I try my hardest to look away from. "I've just had so many strains since the fight. Nemean is so harsh on my muscles."

"A massage sounds lovely, I think I would like one as well," Catherine says, giving me a pointed look I don't know how to interpret.

"Agreed," I say, meekly. I throw more water onto the stones to avoid the awkwardness. Perhaps if there is enough steam to block all vision, I'll be able to relax?

 

[passislisk]

Oh hey, a HypoSoc story awesome. Phobos was great and this is shaping up quite well also. Looking forward to more. Ty

 

[Zhade]

It's fascinating to see how the Geomancy division works. There does seem to be a bit of a mirror to the Hydromancy division, where you have the backstabbing majority population (Kroll's scientists, the noble houses) with a core of hypercompetent elites (Charlemange's Court, Institute Graduates).

I vaguely remember that the Aeromancy division has something sorta similar, albeit without the (overt) backstabbing. The majority being an internet forum and the elite being a magical activist collective.

 

[HypoSoc]

Oh hey, a HypoSoc story awesome. Phobos was great and this is shaping up quite well also. Looking forward to more. Ty

Click to shrink...

Glad you are enjoying it. We'll be wrapping it up this week.

It's not a particularly long book.

There does seem to be a bit of a mirror to the Hydromancy division, where you have the backstabbing majority population (Kroll's scientists, the noble houses) with a core of hypercompetent elites (Charlemange's Court, Institute Graduates).

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There is something of a fun house mirror reflection between the two, yes. Hyper competitive environments foster toxic outcomes. But it would be a mistake to dismiss the backstabbing crazies as "incompetent."

I vaguely remember that the Aeromancy division has something sorta similar, albeit without the (overt) backstabbing. The majority being an internet forum and the elite being a magical activist collective.

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I might direct you to my quest, Mole, if you want to learn more about the Aero division from the perspective of a member, presuming you are okay with outrageously nsfw characters befitting this site. The link is in my signature.

 

[HypoSoc]

True to Catherine's expectation, the Marquis forbade Augustus from the Crusade.

True to Augustus's nature, he did not let that stop him.

With the help of his friends and ambitious servants, Augustus snuck out of the estate to join the muster. The Marquis didn't think to guard against it, assuming his word was sufficient.

Ultimately, no servants were punished. With a Concept like Narcissus, Augustus would have found willing help no matter what. But the estate was a chillier place as the Marquis fretted.

Catherine, of course, kept her perfect poise. But I knew her well enough to tell she was irritated.

"You've blundered," I said, taking the knight she had risked for no gain. "That's unlike you."

"Perhaps I am trying an unconventional tactic?"

"That's also unlike you," I mocked."You aren't flexible enough to try anything new."

She scrunched her nose at the insult. It was cute. I rarely managed to catch her off guard like that.

"Is Augustus's folly bothering you that much?" WIth no one else around, I could be as blunt as I wanted.

"He's a fool. He risks so much for so little. As weak and coddled as he is, he can't hope to accomplish anything. He should know better."

"I didn't think you cared for him so much."

"He's my cousin. Of course I wish him well. But his actions risk not just himself but House Talmont. If he should die…"

"All right," I interjected. "Let's go with that. Suppose he gets himself killed. What would happen?"

"House Talmont would lose its heir. It would be weakened by the loss."

"Would it, if the heir in question is a fool who would throw their life away? That doesn't sound like a strong Head of House."

Catherine was silent.

I pressed further. "Think of it this way. Either Augustus proves himself stronger than any of us think and brings glory to House Talmont. Or he dies, and House Talmont no longer has an heir who would throw their life away for idiocy. Either way, there is nothing for you to be concerned about."

"You are wrong," Catherine said blankly. "It is not just a matter of Augustuts's suitability as the heir. Augustus possesses Narcissus. He is the only one, outside of the Marquis, to possess it. And the Marquis will not father more children. Without Augustus, Narcissus will die out, and the unbroken line of magic from the first Talmont will be severed."

"Does that matter? Is the House nothing more than its Concept? Am I the same as my grandfather because we share Protean?"

"Nobody demands you be your grandfather, Marcus. It's different for you. It is not a matter of facts but a matter of expectations."

"Then why can't it be different for you, Catherine?" I insisted, game forgotten. "Imagine it: Augustus perishes. You are elevated as heir."

"I would not become the heir," Catherine cut me off. "The Marquis would select a member of a branch family, in the hope that Narcissus might reemerge. And I am engaged to Orestes. It is politically impractical."

"Engagements can be broken. And none of your cousins are as dedicated or as prepared as you."

"I don't have a Concept, Marcus."

"And who would know that?" My hand reached for hers, gently brushing against it. "Narcissus is not so obvious a Concept. If you were to claim to have it, if the Marquis were to agree, if the servants are loyal, who would refute you? If it is a matter of expectations and not facts, simply match the expectation."

"Do you think I have not considered that before?" Catherine bit back. "Do you think, as I watched Augustus laze away to adulation, as I worked myself to the bone in silence, I hadn't imagined how I might steal my cousin's birthright? How I might convince my grandfather to declare me the heir? That I have not spent years considering how I might shepard House Talmont to greatness, if I were only given the chance? Or what indulgences I could enjoy if I had such privilege?"

There was a great anger in her eyes, but it was not directed at me.

"I do not want that, Marcus," she stated simply. "I do not want to be a person who acts so selfishly. I don't want to be a treacherous snake. I don't want to be a ruinous fool who would attack my own family. I will do my duty, Marcus, whatever it may be, without complaint and without hesitation. I will never allow selfishness or petty wants to dictate my actions. My foolish desires are meaningless." Her hand pulled away from mine. I felt the loss keenly. "This is my pride as a noble. Even if I was born with nothing else, even if I end up with nothing else, I refuse to abandon my pride."

Her words were a slap to the face.

I bowed my head, accepting the chastisement. "I will not speak of the matter further."

"Good," her words were sharp, just another dagger to the heart. "Whether or not Augustus returns from his miserable adventure, we will do as the Marquis bids. And I will pray that my cousin has not brought doom upon us for his mistake."

---

Doom came, but not in the form we expected.

Seven months after venturing out, Augustus returned to the estate. Physically, he was unscathed. Gaunt and hollow, yes, but he was uninjured, He before the Marquis and his vassals unaided. Mentally, though…

"The entire world was a fathomless black ocean. A cloying ichor of death. Great leviathans swam beneath the surface… ravenous, undying monsters that would fight over every morsel that fell into the drink. Our enemies lived in sky ships and floating cities far above the cursed waters, never daring to venture below. When they fought… they did not strike to make us bleed. All they did was make us fall. Gravity, force, wind, anything to push us off to the certain doom below. Even their weapons were better suited for cutting harness than for cutting skin. The monsters were more lethal than anything they could have managed."

Augustus did not lift his head. He refused to meet anyone's eyes as he recounted his tale.

"The sky cities were well defended. We did not have easy supply so far in the air, while the enemy could bombard our platforms freely for months on end. We… I… had the idea of stealing one of the enemy's ships. We could disguise ourselves as the aliens with illusions, sneak into their port, and sabotage the city from the inside. If we ended the siege, we would be heroes… or so we were hoping. Atreus was hesitant, but we convinced him it was the best option. I didn't think anything would be able to harm him. I didn't…"

Augustus shuddered, before continuing.

"We found a scout ship far outside the viewing range of the city and made our ambush. We crashed our platform directly into the unsuspecting vessel. It was going well. We all had learned how to anchor ourselves so we wouldn't get flung off, and the aliens weren't that tough either. One hard smack and their bones would snap. Get them in the skull or the ribs and they were down for the count, easy as that. But then it went wrong…"

Augustus exhaled, tears growing in his eyes.

"I didn't see what it was exactly, or how. But there was an explosion. Fire. The ship broke. It couldn't keep in the sky. All the alien ships had lifeboats, like small zeppelins to keep people in the sky. But the aliens were so much lighter than us. We didn't realize, even if there was room, it couldn't lift more than a single person. It was… it was agreed that if only a single person could escape, it should be me… on account of my rank and what my death would mean. I… I watched as the ship slowly sank to that black sea, watched as the leviathans came."

"Lucian... Reginald… Antoine… Pierre… Cecile… Atreus… they… they fought bravely. I never thought anything would be able to harm Atreus, but the beast just ate him whole. I had to watch as…" Augustus went silent, eyes empty, words failing. "I spent almost two weeks in that balloon, using wind magic to try to get back to the Crusade, to try to find anyone at all. It is a miracle I managed it…even now, I wonder if I am not just hallucinating, dying of dehydration in that cursed balloon."

Augustus sobbed.

"It was a mistake. Everything about it was a mistake. I never should have gone. I never should have convinced my friends to come with me. Please… from the bottom of my heart, forgive me." The boy begged, a miserable sight.

Orestes, who had been listening to the whole story in silence, closed his eyes.

"Atreus was quite hesitant to embark on the expedition," the man began. "He did not believe himself, or the rest of you, properly equipped. The strength of your assertions, of your Narcissus, is not so potent when one has distance from your presence, you understand." His accusation is harsh, but his words were leveled. "He brought the matter to our attention, seeking proper arguments to convince you without losing face. But my mother intervened. She determined it was an excellent idea. As a second son, he was free to bring glory to House Alsace. As a vassal, he was duty-bound to support his liege. And so, against his own wishes, he went."

Orestes leveled his gaze directly at Augustus. "It was 'decided' that you should be the one to escape? Don't dress up your sins. You used your Concept to convince them. You selfishly fled, leaving your vassals to die."

The heat was growing in his words. Orestes rose to his feet. "Because of you, half a dozen boys gallivanted to a war zone. Because of you, your vassals left the safety of the League's position to have an insipid adventure. Because of you, my beloved little brother is dead!"

I could see the magic of Nemean gather in Orestes' hand.

"Please! Stop!" Augustus cried in fear, the full weight of Narcissus behind his words like a force of inviolable will.

But Orestes did not stop. He did not hesitate even in the slightest. The back of his hand smashed into Augustus's face.

Augustus crumpled to the floor, screaming in pain.

The servants in the room jumped forward, ready to act, but unsure of what to do. The other gathered nobles seem equally uncertain.

Orestes exhaled, the magic dissipating from his hand. "My apologies, Marquis d'Talmont. That was most unseemly of me. I allowed my heightened emotions to get the better of me." He bowed deeply. "I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit."

"No… no…" The Marquis gathered himself with a shake of the head. "It is… it was a shocking event all told. I can not hold you accountable when your humors were so displaced…"

It was hard to tell if Lord Talmont was truly being forgiving for its own sake, or if he had realized, just as I had, that his other vassals had approved of the assault. Many of them looked like they had wanted to deliver the attack themselves.

The Marquis might have risked rebellion if he punished Orestes.

The old man made a subtle gesture. A pair of servants helped Augutus to his feet, and escorted him out of the office for medical attention. Everyone watched them depart in silence.

"Perhaps… perhaps it would be best if we all took some time to process this tragedy," the Marquis declared. "We should convene… in a week's time, perhaps. But we must have time to properly mourn… Young Orestes… please convey my well-wishes to your mother, the Countess. I hope this devastating news does not impede her recovery."

The Marquis looked exhausted. His age seemed to weigh on him more than it ever had before.

His attending vassals, all mourning for their lost children, were gently escorted out.

Orestes did not spare a glance to either myself or Catherine.

 

[HypoSoc]

Some of the tension in the Alsace estate is gone when we return.

The fact that every single person who left for the mission returned is met with surprise. The estate had been assuming that the supposed infiltrator would have used the opportunity to fake their death and escape. Obviously, they would have volunteered to escape Tibereius's draconian observation, and obviously they would not have returned after being caught the first time. If they had not escaped then, they must have escaped before, or so the logic goes.

My Lady's quest defies common sense. It works well in our favor.

The discovery of the two original servants we had replaced simplifies the matter further, providing a tidy timeline to the incident. And so, the whole incident of Nero's assassination is chalked up as just another simple tragedy in the lives of the nobility.

Even Tiberius cannot cling to the matter further, not after showing no progress in his investigation. Under the callous direction of Orestes, the affair is dropped entirely.

And so, My Lady and I find ourselves well positioned to continue our mission.

Tiberius remains our target. The man is isolating himself, so his death will be far more easily concealed than Electra's. And My Lady still desires to confront Orestes last.

We resume our stakeout, searching for the opportunity to kill the old man. Poison is our best hope, for a man more skilled with Nemean than Nero. But he is also far more cautious.

Since my temporary discovery, the man never ate or drank without testing the substance. His guard is naturally high at meal times, and he is not prone to snacking. Contact poisons are not an option, as the man wears gloves at all times of day. My Lady and I are searching for opportunities to lace the inside of the gloves before he wears them, but we have yet to find them.

We are also investigating airborne toxins, but our options are either too blatant to go undetected or too weak to ensure lethality. Tiberius d'Alsace is not in the habit of locking himself in poorly ventilated rooms.

It is looking more and more likely that we will be forced to confront the man directly. But we are in no hurry to pursue such a course of action. We have already managed to miraculously evade being caught once. Drawing attention to ourselves and potentially failing might be the doom of our mission.

We always have the option of resorting to such measures later, but as of yet we are not so desperate.

It is in search of golden opportunities that I find myself in Lord Tiberius's office, cleaning. The man continues his work undisturbed, but I can tell he is keeping an eye on me at all times.

The experience is quite unlike that with the old Marquis d'Talmont. Catherine's grandfather, far older than Tiberius, often had his servants clean as he worked. The old Marquis had the tendency to get caught up in his work entirely, losing any sense of the world as he poured through his reports and plotted out his correspondence. I had, on more than one occasion, witnessed the man drink from his completely empty tea cup without even pausing to notice it was finished. I had even seen him grab for it while a maid was in the midst of pouring the scalding liquid, making a mess of his desk.

Other times when was less enthused with his work, the old man would take every opportunity to procrastinate, chatting with whatever servant was present. He would become completely engrossed by the people around him, in search of distraction, preventing the servant from getting through their tasks as he plied them with tea and cheese.

It was always one extreme or the other with the old Marquis. Not so with Tiberius: always aware, never addressing.

If the man has a moment of vulnerability, I have yet to witness it. Perhaps direct confrontation would be the best option, after all. For all that Tiberius is rumored to be an accomplished fighter, he does not appear to put too much effort into keeping his skills sharp.

My musing is interrupted as the door to Tiberius's office opens.

"My Lord," a butler addresses, "The Count and Lady d'Alsace are here to speak with you."

"Blast it all," Tiberius grumbles. "See them in."

The butler nods. "At once, My Lord."

Orestes and Electra stride into the room. Orestes gaze is focused on Tiberius, never even flicking to me. Electra, in comparison, acknowledges me with a slight nod.

"Uncle, how good to see you. You have not been attending meals." Orestes speaks with a sarcastic drawl, casting an accusing glare.

Tiberius narrows his eyes. "Servant," he addresses me, with a snap of his gloved fingers. "Depart. This is not a conversation for your ears."

"Belay that," Orestes interrupts. "There is no need to interrupt the servant's tasks. Nothing we are saying here needs to be concealed. Better to keep the estate clean, after all."

Tiberius glare turns colder. "Speak, then boy. Some of us have work."

"You have refused my invitation, Uncle. Twice now. One is beginning to think that you do not feel obliged to our company."

"I feel obliged to nothing. Rescuing this house from the tattered remains of its alliances is more important than insipid conversation." He gestures grandly at his correspondence. "Duke d'Durosoy makes impossible demands. The Renault grasp for our vassals. The Hanroit chafe and grumble. Quetineu sends her spies… and you would have me sit back and watch it all crumble to waste?"

"My dearest brother summoned you, Uncle." Electra says. "It is not your place to question or refuse. Do you think yourself regent still? Or the Count? Have you forgotten your place within House Alsace?"

"Daft fools, the both of you." Tiberius spits. "You don't know what it would even mean for me to be disloyal. If I were as conniving as you claim, we would not be in this mess. I serve House Alsace dutifully. I work within the crushing limits you impose on me, to see this house survive and thrive. I will not stand back and be accused."

"What else can one expect when you refuse to show proper deference?" Orestes says with a leveled voice. "When you refuse to offer advice when I desire it?"

"You have ignored my advice, boy. Over and over again. Every single time." Tiberius growls. "Every word out of my mouth falls on deaf ears. Why should I continue to waste time attending to your ego when there is so much more that needs to be done? If you want a fool to mock, hire one."

Electra chuckles. "With your face so red, why would we need anyone else?"

Orestes says nothing.

"Ungrateful, selfish scum." Tiberius seethes. "You blindly lead this House to ruin, acting on your childish whims. Ever since your ascension it has been nothing but the same: you make a mess and refuse to take responsibility. Your mother had such high hopes, put so much work into your training, but you are a complete disappointment! From the very start…"

"Please, Uncle, share your thoughts freely." Orestes' voice remains flat.

"From the very start, you have shaken this family to the foundation. Grudges are the death of a House. But you have done nothing but ferment them. We never should have attacked House Talmont. It gained us nothing, cost us much. But, once you had decided to do so, you should have finished the job. Allowing the Talmont girl to escape was worse than the betrayal itself. You act without thought on petty whims with no respect to the obvious consequences. No doubt, Talmont and her Protean will strike again and again. Our enemies are circling, but you would see this whole House dead!"

"No, Uncle. Not the whole house." Electra says with a grin.

In a flash, her red-glowing hand pierces through Tiberus's chest. The older man's skin crackles a blackened silver, but Electra's Nemean is far stronger. Her hand digs into his heart, twisting slowly.

"You… what have you done?" Tiberius rasps, blood spewing from his mouth. His eyes betray his complete shock.

"Putting an old fool down," Electra shrugs, twisting her hand even further. "I suppose we can take your advice to get a new one, now that this one has played out his welcome."

"You fools… you ungrateful bastards… I was the only one… the only one keeping this family…"

"You think far too highly of yourself." Electra mocks. "You never even bothered to ask about Orestes' plans. You never considered options beyond the same tried and true families, never recognized the changing circumstances. Your big contribution was always trying to keep everything the same. How gracious of you." She punctuates her words by stabbing further, breaking the skin on the other side. "Tiberius d'Alsace made many enemies in his time. His death will serve our aims well."

"Treacherous… shortsighted… fools… did you… were you the ones… to kill my sister?"

"Hm," Electra gives a wide, predatory grin. "Why don't you ask that bitch yourself? Rot in hell, you old bastard." She stabs even further.

Tiberius gives a final shudder before collapsing in his chair, stone dead.

Orestes says nothing, his face lacking any expression.

Electra hums, shaking the viscera off her hand. "Ah… I always wanted to do that." She sighs, turning to face me. "Well, looks like I've made your job quite a bit harder, Lucile. How about I send someone else in to help you with all this mess, all right?" Her smile is both cheery and threatening.

I stay completely frozen.

Electra frowns at me. "Oh, don't be like that. We aren't going to off you for witnessing it or anything. This was just an internal, family matter. It's not even a secret. So there's nothing for you to be concerned about."

"As… as you say, Lady d'Alsace."

Orestes breaks his silence. "Come, Electra. You need to get washed up."

"Ah, at once, dearest brother." The girl practically skips after her departing sibling.

With the door open I can see the butler outside looking on in horror.

 

[BlueMangoAdea]

...Success?

Anyway, the politics are pretty intense.

 

[HypoSoc]

Being a commoner, the intricacies of noble politics were never the focus of my education. As part of my grandfather's torturous training, I was given some base insight into the complicated web at the heart of League politics. But it was not the comprehensive study true nobles would receive.

Still, I knew enough to see that Augustus's ill-advised and ill-fated expedition had put House Talmont into a miserable situation.

Within Lord Charlemagne's division of the Thaumaturgical League, the relationship between a liege and their vassal was, ultimately, a voluntary association. There was a byzantine series of law and customs that governed the rights and responsibilities of overlords and underlords and I did not pretend that I understood them. But my grandfather had made it very clear that, before any duty to one's liege, each House had a primary duty to Lord Charlemagne and the League.

At the time, he had been speaking of the relationship between House Talmont and their liege, the Duke of Durosoy. But it applied just the same for the Counts under the Marquis.

In the end, any vassal could petition the Court of Lord Charlemagne, arguing that their liege was ill-suited. The Court then had the power to transfer the fiefdom to another House. With the loss of so many scions at once, it would be an easy argument to find success.

As such, the Marquis spent the weeks and months following Augustus's return currying favor with his own vassals, doing whatever he could to placate their wrath. He also spent as much time plying the Court to preemptively curtail any ruling.

Catherine had explained that the Court of Lord Charlemagne liked to reward their favorites with the spoils of their rulings. Decisions were as much a matter of backroom deals as they were about the laws as written.

It was in this environment of humility that the wedding between Catherine and Orestes was advanced.

I found myself caught up in the overwhelming preparations of an expedited wedding, serving the bride to be.

Catherine's face was blank as I made adjustments to her dress. This bit of tailoring was well within my abilities: small adjustments to perfect the fit.

From her attitude over the last week, it felt like she was treating this whole ordeal as a chore.

In some ways, that was a relief. I didn't know how I would have felt if Catherine had jumped into this farce wholeheartedly. My own expression was carefully steeled, as it had been for days now.

My Lady was beautiful in her dress. But there was nothing to enjoy about it.

"It isn't too tight around the shoulder, is it? Move your arm a bit. Get a feel. It shouldn't hamper your range of motions."

"It is fine, Marcus. Excellent work."

"Good. We'll want to lengthen the sleeves a bit, to make up for the adjustments. But there is enough fabric at the hem. Unless you want to keep it shorter?"

"I'll defer to your judgment."

"As you say, My Lady. I will keep to the original style. Let me make some final measurements to ensure everything is as it should be."

"Hm."

I made my motions, trying to keep my mind dead to anything but the task at hand.

I failed.

"My Lady…" I paused. "Catherine…"

"Yes, Marcus?"

I swallowed. "You don't… If you don't want to get married, then you shouldn't. The Marquis… I'm sure he wouldn't force you. He arranged the match for your benefit, trying to do right by you as he best understood. But his efforts are worthless if you don't want them. You don't even have to decide now. You can just ask for more time. This wasn't supposed to happen for years yet. He would understand if you are hesitant."

I prayed I did not misread the situation. I prayed I did not offer counsel where none was desired. But Catherine lived in a world that did not care for her desires. Nobody advocated for her. Even she refused to do so.

If Catherine would not be on her own side, as her friend, it was my duty to do so on her behalf.

If I stood back and said nothing, I would always wonder.

"Marcus," Catherine's voice was blank. I could not tell how badly I misstepped. "The situation has changed. It's not simply a matter of prospects or individuals. It is a matter of Houses and Obligations. Politics."

I stayed silent, waiting for Catherine to explain.

"Orestes is not simply an heir anymore. He is a Count. An unmarried one. It is his duty to get married. As the overlord, it is House Talmont's duty to ensure he can. There can be no waiting."

"Then… perhaps somebody else? Perhaps there is someone Orestes would prefer, better suited for the changed situation. The Marquis could arrange it."

"No. If we were not betrothed, perhaps. But breaking an engagement is no small matter. It is a loud declaration. If House Alsace were to end the engagement, it would be an insult to House Talmont: a declaration that they do not view a match with their liege as respectable. It would be akin to breaking feudal ties. If House Talmont were to end the engagement, it would be a grave insult to House Alsace, to all our vassals."

"And what if it is a mutual dissolution?"

"There is no such thing," Catherine shook her head. "Every action is a statement. Every change is a declaration. The other Houses, great and small, are always listening. If there is any ambiguity, they will understand the matter as best benefits them. A House must always be prudent, knowing it is always observed." Catherine exhaled. "House Talmont cannot afford to alienate its vassals. Not now. If Alsace were to break away, the others would follow suit. Our every action, our every inaction, must work to strengthen our fraying ties. My marriage to Orestes will be a strong statement, a necessary statement. That is why it must happen now."

Catherine sighed. "If I must, I will admit to some disappointment at the expediency. I had… allowed the matter to escape my attention, as some far flung event in the future. But it was a settled matter. I would have married somebody someday. Better for it to be timed to best serve House Talmont."

I don't know what I was hoping for when I began this cursed conversation. There was no outcome I could imagine that would not be painful in one way or another. Knowing I was right, that Catherine was unhappy… What did that gain me?

I could only harden my heart. Becoming upset would not help Catherine in the slightest.

We fell into silence as I continued my work.

There was a knock on the door, startling us both.

"Lady Catherine? Lord Augustus wishes to speak with you. Shall I send him in?" The maid outside her bedroom said through the door.

"I am decent, yes." Catherine answered.

The door opened, and Augustus stepped in. The man was still thin. None of his fat had returned since he lost it in his folly.

I suppressed a scowl, keeping my face focused on the task at hand.

"Huh. I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress before," Augustus began, clumsily. "Or without your glasses. You… you look good. A proper bride."

"What do you want, Augustus?"

Augustus froze at the chilly remark. "Right… right… I…" He exhaled, looking like he was trying to gather his nerves. "You're getting married soon, leaving the estate. I thought that… I needed to talk to you before that happened. I should have spoken with you before now, but…" He shook his head, trailing off.

Catherine leveled him an unamused glance.

"Right… I should just spit it out. Catherine, I've always been jealous of you. Everything always seemed to come so easy to you. When I struggled with a lesson you would just understand it immediately, made me feel like an idiot. Magic came easier to you. Etiquette came easier. Politics… math… sword fighting… everything. I could tell the grandfather liked you more. My father always compared me to you. The servants liked you more. It was obvious that everyone preferred you. The only thing I had going for me was Narcissus. I was waiting for the day you would unveil it and I would be tossed aside entirely. But you never did."

He gave a sad smile. "It was like the biggest stroke of luck in my life. Finally, things were fair. You had everything else, but I had the most important thing, and that balanced it all out. You weren't better than me anymore. We were finally equals. Except… you never acted like it. You always acted like you were better than me, always acted like I was just that foolish child too slow in understanding his lessons. You acted like you were just hiding your Concept, just to set me up as a big fool, so you could swoop in and take everything. I had nightmares about it, over and over again. There wouldn't be a week that would go by without me waking up to your mocking laugh."

He chuckled. It was a sad, self-deprecating thing. "Maybe I deserved it. I was avoiding my lessons after all, avoiding any reminder that you were better than me. I played games with my friends because I had them and you didn't and it was proof I wasn't worse than you. I shoved it in your face in the same way I felt you were shoving everything else in mine. Friends, popularity, acclaim, respect, political power… I could comfort myself that these were the things that mattered, and I had them all, unlike you. Hah… and look where I ended up. I took all that for granted and threw it all away."

Augustus took a deep breath. "The truth is, Catherine, for my whole life, I've treated you like a rival, an enemy, like somebody out to crush me. I wanted you to have nothing, because I was terrified you would take everything. I don't know if I was ever fully conscious of it, but it drove me. And I treated you awfully because of it. I went out of my way to ignore and marginalize you. I refused to listen to you, acted like a contrarian."

He bowed his head. "I had a lot of time to think on that balloon, drifting over that abyss. Nothing but time. And I was forced to realize that a lot of the problems in my life… it was never you. It was me. It had always been me. Just a stupid kid lashing out. And, now that you are leaving…" Augustus bowed deeply. "I wish to offer my greatest apology, Catherine d'Talmont, for everything I have done to you, for every mess I made, for every bit of my stupidity. I do not, and cannot accept your forgiveness, but please know that I offer my contrition to you in full. I am sorry."

Catherine stood in silence. I was similarly shocked. I never would have imagined the pitiful heir ever deigning to apologize in such a way. He had always been allergic to self reflection. It was fitting it took a near-death experience of his own making to force any self-awareness in the coddled boy's mind.

"Augustus," Catherine said tonelessly. "You do not need my forgiveness." The young heir looked in dawning hope. "I never noticed any mistreatment from you. I have never, in my life, spared you a single thought. Not beyond the role you were failing to meet."

Augustus sucked in his breath, fists clenched.

"If you wish to atone, dedicate yourself fully to the House. Do better for your own sake. Don't seek my approval. You have never mattered to me."

Augustus shuddered.

"Do you require anything else, Lord Augustus?"

"No… no…" he shook his head. "I… I wish you well in your wedding. I… good evening, Catherine."

Augustus staggered out of Catherine's room in a daze. The door closed behind him.

"Loathsome oaf." Catherine hissed under her breath. "An apology of all things… A noble should stand by their actions, for good or ill."

I rubbed the small of her back in support as Catherine worked through her tangled emotions.

 

[HypoSoc]

Catherine's face is blank as I tell her about Tiberius's death.

"Is… this a good thing?" I ask with some hesitation. "Orestes and Electra made our job easier. There is less chance for us to get caught… I don't think you had a personal grudge against Tiberius."

My Lady closes her eyes in thought. Despite her disguise I can make out the familiar contours of her face. This is an expression I am well experienced with.

"It is not enough for House Alsace to destroy itself. For House Talmont to resurge, we must be the ones to claim our vengeance." She purses her lips. "Ultimately… it does not matter. When we tell the story we will claim Tiberius died at our hands. The Alsace will be in no position to claim otherwise."

I nod. "As you say."

"Still… we must minimize the scope of our lies. The triumph of House Talmon needs to be an unquestioned victory. To that end, we should not assassinate Electra by guile or poison. We need to overcome her directly."

That Orestes would also be confronted directly goes unspoken. Catherine has a clear need to look the man in his eyes as she kills him. For the closure, and for the "story," as she puts it. It is the most personal part of her vengeance, and one that I cannot dissuade her from.

I frown. "Does Electra need to die? If we are willing to stretch the truth on one matter, perhaps we can be flexible with another?"

My Lady blinks. Her eyes flash from confusion to coldness. "Have you perhaps developed a fondness for the girl, Marcus?" There is an edge to her words, a challenging threat.

"No. No!" I shake my head as rapidly as I am able. Even if that were the case, I know Catherine would offer no sympathy. "It's more a matter of other considerations. Electra has consistently acted as an agent for the Thaumaturgical League. We saw this ourselves. As House Talmont is loyal, should we not give due consideration to how our actions might be detrimental to the League?"

"As a loyal Marquessate, House Talmont is best able to serve the League by ensuring it is well positioned to serve. The welfare of the House serves the welfare of the League."

"Should we not take the time to consider other possibilities? Perhaps some method of ensuring the welfare of House Talmont and the League's agent both?" I don't know what exactly I am arguing for, but I feel the need to say it regardless.

"Marcus," My Lady looks me dead in the eye. "Electra cannot be allowed to live. Every trace of Nemean needs to be eradicated, just as every trace of Narcissus was. If Electra were a true servant of the League, she would not have taken part in the betrayal. Any value she might offer is irrelevant." Her glare intensifies. "Do not allow your petty personal desires to interfere. If you no longer desire to take necessary action, you are free to depart."

"No." I reject it immediately. "I am here through the end."

I can't abandon Catherine. Not now. I would stay by her side, even if everything else would burn.

So long as she needs me, so long as she wants me, I will not let her be alone.

"Electra is a skilled and experienced fighter," I bring the topic back on track. "How can we beat her?"

---

The opportunity comes quite fortuitously.

Electra, as part of her general training, is in the habit of selecting servants to spar with. She cycles through people to avoid tiring anyone out with her ravenous pace.

It is not long before My Lady is selected.

"Marie," Electra asks bluntly. "Got time for a spar? I'd like to work out some annoyance right now."

"I am available if it pleases you, Lady Electra," Catherine bows her head. She signals me subtly.

I don't respond in any visible manner, but My Lady knows I have received the message. I pull away, minimizing my presence.

"Great. Let's head to the sparring ring."

"If I may be so bold, My Lady," Catherine interjects. "Perhaps a novel environment would be superior? If you wish to overcome some frustration, then a more… energetic spar might be to your preference. In such a case, we wouldn't wish to disturb the estate with the noise."

"Hah. Energetic spar. Sounds fun." Electra says. "The sparring ground is a bit artificial. No cover, nothing at all like a real fight. Good idea, Marie. I know a place."

Catherine bows her head, following mutely towards the edge of the estate. I follow as quietly as I can.

Electra, as she is wont to do, speaks unprompted for the whole of the trip. "And he asked me to leave. Go on vacation out of the country, he said. Can you believe it? Obviously, I refused point blank. I'm not going to leave Orestes all alone here. Who knows what nonsense that overdramatic brooder could get up to without me to keep him grounded. Heh. I love him, but he gets stuck in his head too much."

"The mind of Count d'Alsace is beyond our understanding." Catherine says.

"It's not. It really isn't. Orestes has basically one thing he cares about. Everything he does comes back to it, no matter how convoluted it is. And he really overcomplicates things. My dearest brother is basically incapable of doing anything directly. That's why I know that if I were to go off like he wants me to, he'd do something foolish. And here we are."

The spot Electra has taken us to is very close to where we confronted Brutus. We could likely find his unmarked grave a few minutes from here. She sets herself a distance across from Catherine.

Electra rolls her shoulders. "Right. Let's get a good workout."

Her skin glows red.

My Lady flicks her sword into being. It glows a silvery light.

Electra purses her lips. "Interesting technique there. Reminds me of something."

"Hm," My Lady ignores the implied question. "Shall we end this?"

"End? We haven't even started!" Electra bursts into motion, tearing through the distance.

My Lady reacts in a flash, fast as a bullet, the tip of her sword stabbing forth.

Electra leans her head back, just barely avoiding the blade.

"Going for my eye? In a spar? Really?" she complains. "That's just disturbing."

Electra pulls back for a lunge.

I emerge from the forest and fire. A magically enhanced, city-destroying bullet slams into her back at supersonic speeds.

Electra staggers, but is otherwise unaffected.

"What?" She turns to face me.

Catherine capitalizes on her confusion by stabbing Electra in the eye.

The sword crumbles and breaks. Electra shows no sign of damage. She zips to the side, catching sight of us both.

I can see the realization dawn in her expression. "Marie… Lucile… you are the infiltrators then…" Her fists clench. I can see them crackle and pop under the strain, her nails digging into her skin. "Bastards! What have you done with them?!"

I answer with another bullet to her face.

Electra punches it before it can reach her. It explodes in the air, leaving her unscathed.

Catherine makes for another stab in the cover of the explosion, her sword glowing with all the magic can muster. Electra catches the blade in her fist, crushing it, throwing Catherine to the side. My Lady releases her grip and lands on her feet.

I fire another bullet. Electra glares through the explosion, doing nothing to stop it.

"You are fools. Worthless murderous scum. Did killing Nero make you cocky?" She spits. "I am nothing like that tub of lard. I actually train, you know?"

Another bullet is ignored, the size of the blast leaving me deafened. Another stab, deflected.

"My Nemean doesn't just cover my skin. Every cell in my body is hardened. Every organ, every drop of blood, is indestructible."

I fire another bullet. Again, she does nothing. This one, however, erupts into a cloud of noxious smoke, the deadliest poison we can muster.

Electra cuts through it with her hand, a snarl on her face. "Did you really think I haven't dealt with poison before? Did you think I haven't trained myself for that? Neurotoxins, cytotoxins, hemotoxins, parasites… I've made myself immune to them all. The Scientist's dogs are a lot more creative with it than you."

I stagger back, firing vainly, as she menaces forward. Her eyes shine with burning rage.

"I'm not even going to waste my time interrogating you. You should have run away the first time. Now, for Lucile, for Marie, for Sanson, and for every other soul you murdered… die!"

Electra moves faster than I can see, faster than I had ever witnessed her move before.

In the barest instant she is upon me. Her red hand pierces throw my heart, through the back of me.

I gurgle and stammer, body failing. I don't even have the ability to recognize the pain.

Her hand retracts, gory and viscous. I slump to the ground, in shock.

My Lady observes the scene in dawning horror. She shudders, turns her back, and runs.

My Lady is fast, but Electra is far, far faster. She is on Catherine in an instant, red hand extended for her back.

Then, at the last, perfect moment, My Lady activates her rune. Space warps. A portal emerges.

Electra's hand stabs through her own back. Indestructible flesh meets indestructible flesh. And, with force and practice on its side, the hand wins out.

Electra stabs through her own heart. Her last expression is of rage turning to shock.

And so, Electra d'Alsace dies at her own hand.

Catherine rolls her neck, the last vestiges of fear, both real and feigned, fall from her lips. She walks towards me without care.

"Marcus, are you all right?"

I let out a groan as my Protean ever so slowly replaces Lucile's heart. The body I had been wearing is dead. I would never be able to take the form of Lucile again, but I will survive.

"It will be some hours, My Lady, before I can move safely." I hate this technique. I hate the memories behind it, both at the hands of my grandfather and the time I used it in truth before. But I cannot deny its usefulness.

I feel some confusion as my head is taken off the hard ground and is placed on My Lady's soft lap.

"I will watch over you, then."

My cheeks burn. "This is unnecessary, My Lady. Do not discomfort yourself on my behalf. I will recover all the same."

"It is necessary, Marcus. I do not enjoy seeing you suffer. I did not desire sacrificing you in that manner, as necessary as it was in making Electra lower her guard. This is simply my duty as your master."

"Catherine…"

"Rest, Marcus." Her voice is soft. "Our trials are ending shortly."

I drift off to a restless sleep.

 

[HypoSoc]

Only two chapters to go.

 

[Witherbrine2671]

Oh that's both neat and smart. It seems he can cheat death by having a form die, which means that he can't that form again since it is dead. They also killed Electra in a pretty cool way, sure they can't hurt her but surly somebody from a family with Neman would have a method to hurt somebody with Neman. So deadly offense vs amazing defense

 

[Zhade]

Assuming the portal is gone, and depending on the messiness of the wound to prevent identification, everyone is going to assume someone is able to overcome Eleltra's aeromancy, which is bound to be frightening.

 

[HypoSoc]

It seems he can cheat death by having a form die, which means that he can't that form again since it is dead.

Click to shrink...

Yep. Marcus's Protean isn't just skin deep. All of his internal organs swap too.

Protean treats entire bodies as costumes to disguise as. If a costume breaks, it is no longer usable, but that doesn't necessarily mean Marcus dies with it.

They also killed Electra in a pretty cool way, sure they can't hurt her but surly somebody from a family with Neman would have a method to hurt somebody with Neman. So deadly offense vs amazing defense

Click to shrink...

In this case, it was physics: a wedge of material X traveling with great velocity will be able to cut through material X. Electra was, sadly, strong enough to kill Electra.

surly somebody from a family with Neman would have a method to hurt somebody with Neman

Click to shrink...

The traditional methods would be to not bother attacking where they are strongest. Just like the Nemean Lion was strangled, poison or mental attacks or Narcissus mind control work just fine.

It's not so much a matter of specific anti-Nemean tactics that Electra was using.

everyone is going to assume someone is able to overcome Eleltra's aeromancy, which is bound to be frightening.

Click to shrink...

The body was hidden, so it isn't so obvious, but Electra dying at all would be very shocking.

 

[HypoSoc]

I woke up the morning of Catherine's wedding with a horrible feeling in my gut. My head was screaming in agony. My nausea was almost overwhelming. The night before had been a mess of drink and sorrow, and I was more than regretting it.

Still, years of training and habit made for powerful inertia. I was able to force myself through, keeping my sickness from reaching my face.

I spent that morning in a daze, working through the variety of tasks one by one in preparation for the celebration. I did not see Catherine in the midst of her own preparations. I could not bring myself to.

She had more than made her opinion clear. It would be nothing but misery for me. And I refused to make anything harder for her when she had her own worries.

I was a servant. It wasn't my place to inject myself into the day. I let myself fall into the motions, unthinking, unfeeling. It was all that I could do.

As Catherine was marrying into House Alsace, the groom's estate was handling most of the organization. The staff around me were of the Alsace stock. Very few of the Talmont staff were on hand. I, of course, was present as the sole member of Catherine's personal staff, but there was no need for most of us.

I settled into my role, doing tasks as they came up. The venue was spotless, exacting: a proper cathedral for a proper marriage between nobility. As the hour dawned I took my place as an usher, greeting the guests as they came.

By the preference of both Orestes and Catherine, the wedding was on the smaller end. But a wedding of a reigning Count and a lady of a Marquesate still demanded a proper reception. Each of House Talmont's vassals were present, of course, as were those below House Alsace. Withholding an invitation would have been a grave insult, as would their lack of attendance. It was a given they would be present.

Duke d'Durosoy, the liege lord of House Talmont, was here. His presence was expected, but not guaranteed. A wedding between a spare daughter and a Count did not demand his august presence. He took a seat of honor above and outside the masses.

But that was the limit of those propriety demanded. No unallied houses were invited. No rivals or persons of note. The extended family of House Talmont, from their assorted minor branch houses, filled the seats on the Talmont side. The family of House Alsace, their vassals, and their peers, filled the groom's.

It was easy enough to organize that I did not need to put much thought to my role.

The ceremony began with some fanfare. From my place on the side, I watched Catherine enter the cathedral in her wedding dress, escorted by the Marquis. Her attire well-matched her husband to be, standing handsomely on the altar. Catherine's face was veiled. I could not see her expression. For all I knew it was as blank as my own.

I tried to catch her eye. I didn't know if I succeeded. Her slow procession did not stop for even a moment.

I didn't know if I wanted it to. Perhaps it would have been better if she didn't even see me.

After reaching the altar, and after Marquis d'Talmont took his seat beside Augustus, the priest began his speech. I wasn't paying much attention, lost in my own thoughts.

The priest blinked in confusion as Orestes placed a hand on his shoulder, interrupting him.

There was a soft smile on the lord's face. "My apologies. I have no desire to continue this ceremony in bad faith. If I may?" He snapped his fingers.

A sharp glow illuminated from the bride's side of the aisle, from the seat of every chair in the section. A mass of hidden runework lit to a chorus of confused yelling.

I jolted to attention, unable to process what was occurring but knowing I needed to act.

I was caught completely off guard by the knife stabbing into my spine. I collapsed to the ground in pain barely about to comprehend the scene.

All around me the servants of House Alsace went about their bloody business. The few servants of House Talmont in attendance were skewered and sliced just as I had been. The guests of House Talmont were slaughtered methodically by the same grim-faced staff.

The rune entrapped them, locking their movement entirely. They could offer no resistance but their screams as they were killed. Every member of the extended family, every member of House Talmont's branch houses, perished before my eyes.

One of the Alsace, a burly man I did not know, was holding Catherine tight. His disgusting arm was wrapped around her neck, practically choking her. A glowing rune was forced onto her, locking her in place. The veil had come loose from Catherine's gown. I could see the despair in her eyes.

Another of the Alsace, Tiberius, was ushering away the terrified priest.

The bastard who had stabbed me had moved on to the audience. Nobody was watching me. No doubt they had simply assumed I would perish, dismissing me entirely. But I could survive this. I just needed time to recover.

I needed to survive this.

Orestes stood calmly, watching all the guests die.

No… not all of them. The groom's side lacked the same restraining rune. The peers and vassals of House Alsace, the loyal subjects of House Talmont, simply watched in silence. I could see the myriad of expressions on their faces: the somber melancholy of Countess d'Renault; the boastful glee of Count d'Hanriot, the abject apathy of a number of Barons.

Above it all sat Duke d'Durosoy. His was a face of bored contemplation. There was not a hint of surprise to be found, neither approval nor disapproval. This was a man who did not care how this ended.

The servants carved a bloody swath through the guests until only Augustus and the Marquis remained. Their Concepts blared at full force, and the servants shied away.

"Alsace!" The Marquis roared, more furious than I had ever seen before. "You treacherous rat!"

Orestes smiled. "Marquis d'Talmont," he said with a bow.

"I order you to kill yourself!" The old man screamed, his Concept thrumming visibly through the air. "Each and every one of your traitorous bastards who rose a hand against us, I order you all to die!"

Orestes shrugged his shoulders. "I apologize, Marquis d'Talmont. I cannot hear what you are saying, though I can infer it from the context. We have rendered ourselves deaf for the moment, for understandable reasons."

The Marquis shook, the chains of the rune holding him locked in place.

"Narcissus is a potent Concept." Orestes said with a nod. "Love is a powerful force, both in commanding others and protecting oneself. But as loyal vassals, House Alsace has learned quite a bit about it over the centuries. Its strengths. Its weaknesses."

He made another gesture. Electra stepped forth, holding a rumbling box.

"Love is not always pleasant. It isn't always kind. The beasts we have here are quite affectionate indeed. Unfortunately, their affection can be lethal."

Electra opened the box. I could not see properly, but a number of small and furry winged things emerged. They crooned and immediately dove for the two Talmonts.

I could hear the carving of flesh and screams of pain.

"The beasts will burrow into your ribcage to make their homes. It is what they do with their favored hosts. I estimate you will die in perhaps fifteen minutes. They aren't trying to kill you, after all. But it will be excruciating. Of course, you always have the option of disengaging your Concept. I can promise you a swift death in such a case. The choice is yours."

I could feel a change in the air. Augustus's head fell from his shoulders with a swift slash by Electra.

The Marquis, defiant, died slowly. His head was also separated from his corpse.

Orestes exhaled sharply, a long cool breath, relief in his expression. Electra crushed the burrowing beasts in her reddened fists one by one.

Orestes snapped again and there was an immediate change. It was their hearing returning, most likely.

"What should we do with this one?" the burly man asked, still holding Catherine tight. "Chop her head off too? It would be a shame to only have two skulls to put on the mantle."

Orestes shook his head. "No. Catherine lacks Narcissus. She cannot be considered a Talmont. We have no reason to kill her."

The burly man scoffed. "I heard she doesn't even have a Concept. Like a fucking Vav. Maybe I should just put her out of her misery?"

Catherine shook. The fading runes constraining her shattered. A sword of silvery light exploded into being straight up the nose of the man holding her.

He shuddered and collapsed, falling to the ground in a dead slump.

"Claudius!" Tiberius jumped to his feet, running for the collapsed man. "My son!"

Catherine stumbled back, prone, breathing raggedly.

Tiberius glared at her, cradling his son. "What are you waiting for? Kill her!" He ordered.

The servants made to advance, but Orestes held a hand, halting them.

"Calm yourself, Uncle. Casualties were to be expected. Claudius should not have been so lax. Still… perhaps we should secure her, so that she cannot make a mess of things. We have holding runes to spare."

I needed to move. I needed to stop this. Nobody was looking at me. This was my chance.

My body was dying but I could not let that stop me. I had other bodies. It did not matter that this was my original. It did not matter that I would never be able to use it again.

I needed to save My Lady.

With my shuddering, dying breath, I reached for my gun. The Alsace were indestructible. I could accomplish nothing shooting at them. The servants were too many to take down.

I steadied myself as much as I could. I took aim, and fired at the Duke.

It didn't hit him, but it didn't need to. The Duke's bodyguard threw up a shield immediately, catching the bullet. But it served its purpose. The entire cathedral was thrown into chaos.

The Alsace could not afford for the Duke to be injured in an event they were hosting, especially not after they killed their own liege. The servants and scions on House Alsace all jumped to action to protect the man, losing sight of Catherine.

At that moment, with the last remnants of my magic, I rushed for her. It was a burst of speed impossible for anyone who could hope to live.

Catherine met me halfway, supporting me with an unsteady arm. Holding tight to one another, we threw ourselves through the cathedral's window out to the wider world beyond.

There was no pursuit.

 

[HypoSoc]

One chapter left.

 

[Random Anon]

Not pursuing or wanting to kill Catherine seems particularly ill-advised if you know anything about her. Or if you don't.

I guess we'll understand more of Orestes' motivation in the next chapters. I appreciate the panache.

 

[HypoSoc]

I guess we'll understand more of Orestes' motivation in the next chapters. I appreciate the panache.

Click to shrink...

You can use Lelouche vi Britannia as a face claim for Orestes if you wish.

 

[HypoSoc]

After Electra's death, Orestes orders all the servants to depart the estate without explanation or opportunity to protest. His face is blank as he does so, retreating back to his office without further word.

There are grumbles of concern among the staff, both for the Count's state of mind and their own livelihoods. As for myself and Catherine, we are left with confusion.

I, of course, suspect a trap. The circumstances feel far too convenient for our goals.

Catherine agrees, but she will not be deterred. Her need to confront Orestes overrides all other concerns.The time for subtlety is over. Only the end remains.

I can only hope this isn't some misguided suicide attempt on her part. I will ensure My Lady lives through this, even if I die, even if she hates me. I care about her life far more than I care about the bastard's death.

After the other servants clear out of the estate, we make our way to the Count's office.

Count d'Alsace's office is a stark contrast to his deceased uncle's. The furniture favors more creature comforts than practicality. The signs of work are limited, scattered and disorganized. The adornments are few, but striking: framed photographs of different people in different states of play. I see dozens of pictures of Electra, of Atreus, and a scattered few of a young girl I do not recognize.

I even see, to my great disgust, a picture of Catherine.

None of these photos had been present in my previous visits as a servant. He must have taken them out today, in the process of his mourning.

The man in question is lounging in his chair, idly swirling a glass of wine in his hand.

His gaze rises to meet us as we enter.

"Catherine," he greets with an utter lack of surprise, placing his wineglass on the desk, uncaring of the stain it leaves. "Or are you the Protean? I can admit I am unable to tell with the disguises."

"So you did know," My Lady says dryly. "I never expected to remain undiscovered."

"I suspected from the start, but I would say it was the gaoler's death that confirmed it for me. That the both of you were here was obvious."

"And yet you have done nothing. The height of arrogance." My Lady snaps her fingers. The rune we had hidden in his chair lit in a silver chain.

Orestes raises a brow, looking entirely unconcerned. "The holding rune? From the Alsace stores, I presume. How apropos, Catherine."

"That is Marchioness d'Talmont to you, Count d'Alsace."

"Please. I much prefer Orestes," He smirks.

In a flash, My Lady summons her silver sword and sets it at his throat. "What pleases you is of no concern, Count." She drags the tip across his neck. It draws no blood. "You made two mistakes that day. First was your treachery. Unforgivable and pointless. But second was leaving me alive. You did not consider me a Talmont. You dismissed me because I lacked a Concept. But your arrogance has led to the downfall of your entire family. You will die today because of your mistakes. I will see to it."

"Hm… I do believe you are incorrect, Catherine. You won't kill me."

Catherine stabs her sword straight into Orestes' eye. The blade shatters on contact. The man does not even blink.

"Case in point," he says.

My Lady grits her teeth. She exhales. "Marcus, fetch Electra's corpse. We will use the sister to puncture the brother."

Catherine had hoped her sword and the rune would have been sufficient, but we had brought Electra's still hardened arm and a number of poisons as a backup plan.

This draws a frown from the man. "I would ask that you leave my sister be. Save yourself the trouble at the very least, and allow my poison to do its job. I will be dead within the hour regardless."

My Lady pauses. "Poison?"

"I will not die at House Talmont's hand. Even if you slay me, it accomplishes nothing. I am dying by my own will, and no one else's."

Catherine grits her teeth. "Out of a grief I have driven you to!"

Orestes chuckles. "I'm afraid I must deny you even that satisfaction, my would-be wife. Allow me to explain."

He exhales a long breath. "I was not always the heir to House Alsace. No, that honor went to my older sibling. Iphigenia was wonderful, my adoring older sister. She was my first and only friend, my protector, my teacher. She was a marvel of wit and charisma, of magic and might. She was perfect but for a single flaw: she lacked Concept."

Catherine stills.

"She hid it, of course. Other magics might mimic Nemean for a time, and Iphigenia was quite adept at magic. But eventually the truth came out. It did not matter how skilled she was at everything else, as far as my mother was concerned, Nemean was the only thing that mattered. And so, my beloved older sister was unceremoniously killed, and I became the heir." He laughs sadly. "I lost my protector and the brunt of my mother's attention fell on me. Her training, her torture… I was the victim of it all now. It was all I could do to protect Atreus and Electra from it, to be the perfect heir so that my little siblings wouldn't suffer the same in turn, just as Iphigenia had protected me for so long. All the while, I swore to destroy this accursed House and everything my mother stood for. It was all that mattered."

He spits. "But then you bastard Talmonts failed! You were supposed to keep Atreus safe and happy, away from this miserable House! Instead that worthless shit led him to his doom, left him to die! I was naive. I had thought that it was just Alsace that deserved death, but that incident was proof. It was not just my House that was rotten, but every House, every scrap of nobility, every worthless fop born with a Concept. If I could tear it all down, I would do so gladly!"

I can see the madness in his eyes. His lips are practically frothing with spittle.

He forces himself calm, taking a deep breath. "But I know my limits. This world is much stronger than me. There is only so much I can do. The utter destruction of Alsace and Talmont is enough. Causing as much damage to the other Houses as I could manage is enough." He looks My Lady in the eye, smiling. "I must thank you profusely for your aid."

"No." Catherine says quietly.

"Hm?"

"I said, 'no,' you psychotic bastard!" she yells. "You do not get to claim that my actions were part of your plan. You do not get to claim House Talmont's righteous vengeance as your own! I made my decisions of my own will! These pointless mind games, this twisting of history… it means nothing! I am the one that destroyed House Alsace! You did not manipulate me into it! You did not simply permit it to happen! You do not get to invalidate everything I have done! Cease your worthless prattling!"

"I am dying, Catherine. I have no reason to lie," he says calmly. "I will admit I dreamed of this… gloating to someone who might understand my loathing, finally speaking my mind as I died in triumph… but this is indeed the end I had hoped for, the one I have fought so hard for. It is the finale of my misery and hate."

"Electra." I interrupt, speaking for the first time. "Your sister. Do you mean to say you wanted her to die? That you cared nothing for her death."

Orestes freezes, a look of sorrow painting his expression. "I… I had hoped she might leave. I had hoped she might have fled, even though I knew she never would. I never wished her ill, but… she was a carrier of Nemean, a potential heir to the legacy of House Alsace. And… in the end, it seems I hated House Alsace more than I loved my little sister." He laughs, lightly, madly, sadly. "I can only imagine Iphigenia would hate me just the same. She was always stronger than me."

The man looks pathetic. But it seems that is all he has ever been: a mess of rage and undirected vengeance under a thin facade.

It is all too easy to imagine Catherine falling for the same trap. Have I been enabling her own insanity, or have I been keeping her from falling off the edge?

Orestes collects himself and sighs. "I do not hate you, Catherine. You who were born without the curse of a Concept… I have no anger towards you. I do not hold you to the sins of your damned family. If anything, I can only offer you my deepest sorrow, for using you as the tool of my vengeance. The wealth of Talmont and Alsace will be yours, to do with as you wish. I have arranged it. I wish you well in your life. "

He grins. "But I will die with a smile on my face. With my death, the line of Nemean will be extinguished. Narcissus and Nemean. Talmont and Alsace. Two Great Houses stretching back to the foundation of the League, dead by my hands. I can only imagine how proud I have made my mother." He laughs, soft and mad.

My Lady stands in silence, in seething rage. I can barely imagine the turmoil she is going through. The cruel revelations, the pointlessness of it all… Catherine d'Talmont has spent the last two years of her life living for this moment, and it is all crumbling down in such a miserable way.

It is a nightmare of an ending to the story she was weaving. And that story was the only thing that had kept her going after the tragedy Orestes inflicted upon her.

I prepare myself. For what, I do not know. But if I need to restrain Catherine to prevent her from doing something drastic, I will do so in an instant.

The alternative isn't worth contemplating.

But My Lady stills. Then she smiles. It is like something has broken. Or like a momentous weight has lifted off her shoulders.

I am caught off guard by the change. Orestes seems to be just as confused.

"I'm afraid you are mistaken, Count d'Alsace," she says simply.

"Hm? I can't imagine what you are referring to. I have won my battle, Catherine, not against you but against the world."

"You claim your line will end here with your death. But that will not be the case. Marcus, copy his form."

"My lady?" I don't understand what she is aiming at.

But Orestes seems quicker on the uptake, his face dawning in horror. "No! You can't!"

"Count Orestes d'Alsace will not die here. He will seclude himself in mourning for a time, but eventually emerge to take back control of his estate and return it to proper standing. The misunderstanding with House Talmont will be resolved, and his marriage with Catherine d'Talmont will go through as originally planned. Of course, as Catherine is a reigning Marchioness now, the terms will be renegotiated, but I can't imagine that will be a problem." She smiles at me. "What say you, Marcus? I am thinking four children. An heir and a spare for each house. Perhaps five to be safe. Is that amenable to you?"

I choke.

"See reason, Catherine!" Orestes begs. "Are you giving up your own vengeance? Refusing to kill House Alsace… how can you reconcile that with your pride? With your duty to avenge Talmont's dignity?! You are throwing it all away… for what? Just to spite me?!"

"Perhaps I am throwing away House Talmont's pride. Perhaps I am failing in my duty to my House. Perhaps I am being horribly selfish. But… at this moment, even more than I wish for vengeance against House Alsace… I wish for vengeance against you, Orestes."

"It doesn't matter!" Orestes yells. "I still won! Even if you pretend otherwise, even if you hide the truth, I still ended both Houses. I still eradicated Nemean and Narcissus. I will happily laugh at the mockeries you plan to make. It will bring joy to my dying heart." Despite his words, there is only abject fury in his expression.

"Orestes, even without Narcissus, I am a Talmont. My children will be Talmonts no matter what they are born with. Or Alsaces, as appropriate. Whether they have Nemean or Narcissus or Protean or even nothing at all… they will be the inheritors of our two lines. And we will claim whatever we wish about their magic to anyone who cares."

"You…" but whatever Orestes is planning to say remains unspoken as his body gives out. His expression is frozen in a rictus of rage.

I stand in stunned silence. Catherine lets out a deep breath. She looks utterly exhausted.

She looks at me with tired eyes. "Well, aren't you going to copy him?"

"You were serious? I thought you were just saying that to make him angry."

"Well, I can hardly marry you if you are only a commoner, after all. So let's take advantage of the opportunity."

Once again, I choke.

Catherine smiles. It's a beautiful thing. She grabs my arm and holds it close, leaning her head against my shoulder. "Do you think a month is too short for the mourning period? A week? I want to schedule our wedding as soon as possible."

I take a deep breath. "I'll need to copy Orestes before we can do that, Catherine. I, uh, I need my arm for that."

Catherine only snuggles into me closer.

 

[HypoSoc]

Imagine a man born with a lie. After a life of deceit and concealment, he ends his life with a story. On his deathbed, he entrusts it to his child.

Imagine this child born with a story. After a life of recitation and repetition, she ends her life with a legend. On her deathbed, she entrusts it to her child.

Imagine this child born with a legend. After a life of reverence and obedience, he ends his life with a history. On his deathbed, he entrusts it to his child.

This is the secret of nobility: in a world where everyone is born with a lie, the noble is born with a history.

This is the nature of nobility: in a world where everyone is born alone and afraid, the noble is born a link in a grand chain.

To be born a noble is to be a forger of history, to put weight to a lie whose origin has been forgotten, to cling to a world their ancestor insisted upon. It is a fabrication of the past; it is a reshaping of the future.

When a person lies, they deceive only those around them. When a noble lies, they craft a tale for all who came before them and all that will come after them.

In this way, the truth of a noble cannot be considered the truth of the world. The original deception shapes their lives more than the world ever could. A noble is nothing more and nothing less than the tradition they follow: the lie they have convinced the world to believe.

But why do we cling so hard to stories we have been told? When the past is an inaccessible relic, when the future is an unknowable mystery, why do we insist on holding fast to any tale? The hateful past and the fearful future need not chain the present. To refuse to lie is to reject the power one has over this world of perceptions.

A noble is one born from the continuation of a lie. They have found meaning in it. They have built a tradition of it. They have twisted the world to conform to it. And they use their power to trap the future in their wake.

One must take care of the lies they choose to spread. One must take care of the lies they believe.

Lest they are beholden to their miseries.

Fin​

 

[HypoSoc]

And that's a wrap. I'm happy to answer any lingering questions. You can consider this canonical to the setting.

 

[Random Anon]

You can use Lelouche vi Britannia as a face claim for Orestes if you wish.

Click to shrink...

I see what you mean now. Very Code Geass like. Even the Nunally/Electra vibes are similar.

I admit I thought they were going to freeze his semen or something, to keep the Nemean Concept going on.

I wonder how or if Catherine will change in how she regards nobility, given all of this. Will she tell her children what happened? Will she keep it to the grave? She is far more amorous in private, now that she has won.

I like how the ending talks about the lies of nobility. They are all lies, fucking lies, that chain everyone. But they still matter.

How is the genetic of Concepts anyway? Is there such a thing as a recessive gene? I assume if you don't have it you can't pass it?

 

[HypoSoc]

This came up elsewhere, but I think it is worth pointing out. On why this has the tag,"Villainess MC":

Just because somebody fights a villain does not mean they are not also a villain.

Marcus and Catherine killed at least 5 completely innocent people in their quest for revenge, and that does not include Brutus or Electra, who were arguably innocent themselves.

Pretty much every character, INCLUDING Marcus, was very cavalier in their treatment of "commoners."Their names, aspirations, deaths, were not important in anyway, just background tools and afterthoughts. The single noble who actually thought about commoners in general and treated them as people (excluding Catherine's treatment of Marcus in particular), was Electra.

I admit I thought they were going to freeze his semen or something, to keep the Nemean Concept going on.

Click to shrink...

No. Catherine just wants to take advantage of the situation to steal the win from Orestes and find an excuse to marry Marcus in an acceptable manner.

I wonder how or if Catherine will change in how she regards nobility, given all of this. Will she tell her children what happened? Will she keep it to the grave?

Click to shrink...

Catherine always viewed nobility as a goal and an aspiration. This whole thing forced her to confront how self-destructive she was, and more determined to force nobility to BE what she always wanted it to be. And she will lie for the rest of her life to make it that way. Nobody but Marcus and Catherine will ever know that Marcus replaced Orestes.

She is far more amorous in private, now that she has won.

Click to shrink...

Catherine was always a horny teenager. But she had a massive superego and would never permit herself to indulge with a commoner, even if she thought the distinction was superficial and stupid. Now that she has an excuse to let loose with Marcus in a way that does not harm her house in any way, she plans to make up for lost time.

I like how the ending talks about the lies of nobility. They are all lies, fucking lies, that chain everyone. But they still matter.

Click to shrink...

Yep. Just because it is a lie doesn't mean it doesn't cause real suffering.

How is the genetic of Concepts anyway? Is there such a thing as a recessive gene? I assume if you don't have it you can't pass it on?

Click to shrink...

There is ZERO genetic component to Concepts, and no provable Epigenetic component either. The Geo division pretends it is genetic, but the mechanisms of transference are not understood.

It is possible for a blood related adopted child to 'inherit' the concept of their adoptive parents. There is a tendency where the presence of Concepts increases the presence of Concepts to a point.

But even inheritance is more of a social construct. All the different versions of Nemean and Narcissus are, by any strict definition, different concepts, but the families pretended like it was a single magic breeding true with variations due to personal preference.

Concept heritability is itself a lie similar to nobility.

 

[tensecloud]

I absolutely despise Catherine. It's her view on nobility and their own inherent superiority that makes me scoff at her. She acts as though she is superior due to her noble birth when she lacks the basic qualification that makes someone Nobility, their Concept. Ultimately I don't think she even loved her family enough to commit to this revenge out of love. She says it in herself, the revenge is for the insult of House Alsace choosing to murder House Talmont despite being their vassals. I think Orestes loved his sisters and brother more than she loved her family and that's my belief knowing he sacrificed his sister for his revenge.

Catherine's true love in this story isn't Marcus, it's nobility. She wasn't willing to marry him until she found an acceptable way to do so. But all this is justified as ultimately as you've tagged Catherine and Marcus are villain protagonists. They're scummy people keeping up a scummy lie that will continue to hurt thousands of their descendants in the future all because Catherine wants to keep being superior to the common rabble. That's without counting the regular people she hurt and killed on the way to completing her revenge.

This is the first work of yours I've read, and thank you for creating a villainess story where the villainess feels genuinely like a bad person.

 

[HypoSoc]

It's her view on nobility and their own inherent superiority that makes me scoff at her.

Click to shrink...

She... doesn't consider herself superior because of nobility? It's more the converse. Not, "I am a noble therefore I am superior." But, "I am a noble, therefore I am worthless unless I am superior so I need to dedicate every moment of my life to being perfect."

She acts as though she is superior due to her noble birth when she lacks the basic qualification that makes someone Nobility, their Concept.

Click to shrink...

What? The idea of a concept making someone noble is pure bullshit. That's kind of a big point of the whole story. That nobility itself is bullshit. Otherwise Marcus would be a noble.

Catherine's sense of 'superiority' comes from the fact that she spend all of her time training and studying and never permits herself to enjoy life. It is a very, very unhealthy mindset, but it's not a 'quality of birth' situation. If anything it's a curse of birth. 'Because I am a noble, I am forbidden from living my own life and have to enslave myself to duty instead.'

There are many reasons to dislike Catherine, but she isn't some haughty princess. She is a callous, single-minded murderer who buys into a repressive system, but she believes it is justified because nobles are also supposed to repress themselves.

Ultimately I don't think she even loved her family enough to commit to this revenge out of love.

Click to shrink...

Correct. She was abused and socially neglected. She did not love them. She never claimed to love them.

Catherine's true love in this story isn't Marcus, it's nobility. She wasn't willing to marry him until she found an acceptable way to do so.

Click to shrink...

She could have found a way to make it acceptable before, but she was completely unwilling to entertain doing anything for herself. Nobility was a chain and a burden and she drank the kool aid of its cult hard.

This is the first work of yours I've read, and thank you for creating a villainess story where the villainess feels genuinely like a bad person.

Click to shrink...

I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Hurt people can hurt people. You are right that Catherine is not a good person.

 

[passislisk]

This is an absolutely excellent work, thank you for writing it. It was intriguing throughout with just enough surprise to be delightful. Are you going to be posting this one as a book like you did phobos?

My only complaint would be some of the switching between present/past was annoying, but probably not a problem when it isn't posted one chapter at a time.

 

[tensecloud]

What? The idea of a concept making someone noble is pure bullshit. That's kind of a big point of the whole story. That nobility itself is bullshit. Otherwise Marcus would be a noble.

Click to shrink...

I understood that, but from the characters point of view, all nobles are supposed to have a Concept and the ones who don't are killed, even if they are geniuses whose ability is greater than the ones with a Concept. That she supports the system knowing that people like her will always be viewed as lesser within this system is what makes her action detestable to me. It's like watching a black person defend apartheid.

Catherine's sense of 'superiority' comes from the fact that she spend all of her time training and studying and never permits herself to enjoy life. It is a very, very unhealthy mindset, but it's not a 'quality of birth' situation. If anything it's a curse of birth. 'Because I am a noble, I am forbidden from living my own life and have to enslave myself to duty instea

Click to shrink...

That makes more sense, because I found it weird thinking that her ego and lack of care towards those she perceives lesser came from the fact she was a noble and they were not. But it's still pretty shitty to live the way she does

 

[HypoSoc]

Are you going to be posting this one as a book like you did phobos?

Click to shrink...

No. I am burned on publishing.

My only complaint would be some of the switching between present/past was annoying, but probably not a problem when it isn't posted one chapter at a time.

Click to shrink...

It was pretty consistent In the A/B format whether it was present or past. But perhaps I needed to be even more blatant.

I found it weird thinking that her ego and lack of care towards those she perceives lesser came from the fact she was a noble and they were not.

Click to shrink...

No. She killed the servants without care because "risk of death is (implied to be) in the job description for servants who work for nobles."

You get paid to die, so there is nothing wrong with killing you, essentially. She wouldn't kill a 5 year old child of a servant who isn't getting paid, but she would kill a 2 year old noble.

If something is deontologically acceptable on her world view, she has zero hesitation.

 

[Seventeen]

What a great story. The ending was very satisfying, especially because I had been thinking for several chapters that Catherine had just been hiding her Concept by only having it affect Marcus. I'm glad that wasn't the reveal; it would have been a bit melodramatic.

Catherine was always a horny teenager. But she had a massive superego and would never permit herself to indulge with a commoner, even if she thought the distinction was superficial and stupid. Now that she has an excuse to let loose with Marcus in a way that does not harm her house in any way, she plans to make up for lost time.

Click to shrink...

I wonder if she'll take a new husband once "Orestes" inevitably dies. She and Marcus already have the experience infiltrating noble houses. It's a good way of guaranteeing you have a willing prospect available.

I'm glad I kept voting for To the Knife when you were looking for opinions.

 

[HypoSoc]

I wonder if she'll take a new husband once "Orestes" inevitably dies. She and Marcus already have the experience infiltrating noble houses. It's a good way of guaranteeing you have a willing prospect available.

Click to shrink...

She does not plan to black widow noble houses using a shapeshifter accomplice. Her plan is to make everything look like a return to the status quo, with Talmont and Alsace more tightly bound. She would have Marcus permanently take the form of Orestes and doesn't plan to "outlive" him.