Days passed without incident as the new management of the duchy began to take power. Well, not entirely without incident, there was an occurrence of a noble and a knight nearly challenging one another to a duel; despite that situation, which had been quickly resolved as the count left once the pitiable officer gave his apologies, everything had been very quiet. Too quiet, Cleo thought.

She flipped through her Panel, documenting her thoughts. “It’s been about five days since we possessed these bodies, and nothing particularly eventful has occurred. For this story, he’ll probably skip over that time between chapters or episodes or whatever he’s doing this time around…” Cleo mumbled to herself under her breath. For a moment, she paused. The screen above her face shifted to another page as she laid on her blankets atop her oversized bed. Her hand moved behind her head, and the other tapped on the character description.

“Female Lead…” She pondered, It’s been this long and I’ve yet to meet the First Male Lead… I already know Elliot, so that’s not a problem. A feeling of dreaded anticipation washed over her like water that was ever so slightly too cold. Cleo remained generally unfazed, however, the thought of having to deal with an intended romantic interest filled her stomach with a repulsed churning.

One leg kicked over the other, and a sigh escaped her lips. “Boy, am I glad that Cleo is cold. I would hate to have to deal with some lovesick imbecile.” She griped, “You hear me, pal? You get a pass from being socked this time but only because you managed to do something half decent!” The newly appointed duchess spoke seemingly to the air, although she was fully aware of who she was demeaning. A malicious chuckle filled the room with a comical ambience while Cleo amused herself.

It was then that a knock rang out on her bedroom door. A voice called from behind it, saying, "Your Grace, I have your breakfast for you."

Ah, it's the head maid. Cleo sat upright and replied, "Bring it in, Mysthea." Her feet kicked back and forth, dangling off the side of her mattress. Eyes following the tall woman with obsidian hair that had a certain oceanic sheen to it, Cleo watched her deliberate movements intently. The maid set the tray she carried onto a round table and took a step back. As she adjusted the cuffs of her long ebony dress and the ivory apron that fell over top of it, Mysthea turned towards her mistress.

"Your Grace, is there anything I can assist you with?"

The duchess shook her head and said, "No, thank you. I just need updates on the state of the manor. Has anything notable transpired?" At this point, she had stood up and moved to her small table that held up her plate of food.

Mysthea nodded in response and began to give her overview. "The last of the guests are leaving today. The knights have remained longer than most, understandably, and Sir Elexendire will be departing in the afternoon should you wish to say your goodbyes, considering he is the last of the Pearl Order.”

Typical Elex. He probably wanted an excuse to stay around and bother Elliot about the Ruby Order, Cleo thought, entertained. She only gave a single nod of recognition as she sipped her tea.

“As for Commander Elliot,” Mysthea continued, “I believe he is settling into the East Wing well. He has been working in organizing the weapons and armor we do have as well as taking inventory. He should be providing you with a list of needed supplies soon enough along with, most likely, a roster of possible recruits.

“I recommend Your Grace begins to hire more staff to care for the manor or, at the very least, begin compiling qualified possible appointees. Work will increase as Your Grace and the commander begin to build up Calidursa, and having servants and assistants would be most advisable.”

Cleo looked up. “You don’t believe you can handle it on your own?” Her tone was particularly deadpan.

The maid’s brows furrowed as she answered, “For now, I am fully capable of taking care of tasks around the estate, however, in the future, I do not believe so.”

Her duchess’s expression softened, seeing her reaction. “It was a joke. I know you are qualified to take care of this house as you’ve done since the passing of the late duke.” The head maid served as the regent in the absence of a true duke, duchess, or even a head butler. Knowing this, Cleo took her last drink from her teacup and said, “Put finding servants on my agenda along with surveying progress in the East Wing.”

“Right away, Your Grace,” Mysthea replied with a bow. “However, there is one more matter to attend to.”

Her fork hovered in front of her face as she was just about to take a bite of her meal. She pulled it away and asked, “What is it?”

“The representative of the Duchy of Wicke is departing today, being the final guest to go home aside from Sir Elexendire, and he requested an audience with you at the very least as you escort him out,” the refined woman explained. “Considering he is the last of the nobility who came to visit, and he is the representative sent in the name of all of the dukedoms, I recommend you go speak with him.”

“You are quite persistent, aren’t you?”

“I have served Calidursa for twelve years, Your Grace, and in my time I have learned much of the ins and outs of nobility. Considering your former status as a commoner and a knight, I intend to guide you in what I feel would most benefit Your Grace and Calidursa as a whole.”

Cleo paused for a moment before she set her silverware. “What did you just say?”

“I–”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“I don’t think you quite grasp the situation, Mysthea.” Her eyelids lowered in a menacing manner as she spoke. “You have been in charge of this diminishing house up until a few days ago, however, that is no longer the case. I suggest–” her voice sharpened with ice– “...you avoid providing unsolicited advice from this point forward.”

The maid had a look of utter shock regardless of whether she tried to hide it; it was likely the first time she had been talked back to in years. Her mistress gave her one last look of chilling warning before her eyes closed and she went back to eating.

“Have I made myself clear?” She was finally able to take a bite of her breakfast.

Mysthea hesitantly bowed and confirmed, “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Wonderful. You are dismissed. I will be giving my farewells to the Duke of Wicke shortly.”

The head maid gave one last dip of her head as she departed the room; her black heeled shoes could be heard clacking down the otherwise quiet, vacant hallway. Cleo leaned back in her chair and projected an exasperated sigh. Goodness, what an arrogant woman. At the same time, she began to have an inkling of respect for Mysthea; she had managed not only a manor but portions of the duchy that had not been temporarily put under the domain of the royal family, and Cleo found that to be impressive for someone with no formal training. I’d imagine how difficult it is to give up to some random theoretical heir, especially considering that they're a stranger, a commoner, and a knight, none of which makes them qualified to rule.

Once her morning meal was complete, the duchess pushed up from her seat and went to search her quaint dressing room for an acceptable outfit. Dress, dress, dress, knight uniform she wore for the ceremony, dress. A dress it is, I suppose. If only they had a little more mobility… Cleo was just glad there were clothes that were presentable at all. Grabbing the one that closedclosed up in the front, she quickly readied herself. She tied up her hair into a high ponytail before she wove it into a loose braid. Additionally, the garment she chose had an eggshell skirt with a ruffle along the hem accompanied by a crimson bodice.

Quickly putting the base dress on, Cleo slipped her arms through the sleeveless top and clipped it shut with the golden clasps that traveled from the collar down the right side of the front along its edge. In a mirror, she adjusted it for one final time before throwing shoes on her feet hastily and walking out the door.

The entrance hall held only a couple of servants that accompanied Duke Wicke along with the duke himself. They took his luggage outside to the carriage, preparing to depart, while he stood and watched the front door with his arms crossed.

A light click of heels at the top of the staircase that laid in the middle of the foyer alerted him, and he turned to look over his shoulder. The moment his eyes met those of Duchess Calidursa, his breath caught in his throat.

Cleo immediately recognized him, not as a duke but as a supposed love interest. She nearly grimaced, barely keeping her composure. The almost starstruck look on his face was enough for her to want to pivot and walk to other way. Her heart lurched with a knowingness that this moment would have come no matter what she could have even tried to prevent it. Unfortunately expected, this encounter truly is… She thought to herself as the vacantly frosty expression she wore solidified.

Scarred fingers gripped her skirt as she lifted it to descend the stairs conscientiously. She was completely aware she had all the grace of a kitten who had yet to learn walking, but there was nothing she could do in attire she was unaccustomed to. As her feet reached ground level, the hazel-eyed woman stood face to face with a man she found obnoxiously handsome; his irises sparkled a bright royal blue and his jet black hair fell above the soft, but still defined, features of his face, forming gently tapered natural bangs that clumped lightly in the front. Strands curved around his cheeks slightly to frame his charming visage.

Mustering up ever ounce of motivation she could find, Cleo spoke. “You must be Duke Wicke. It was regrettable we had no found the chance to make acquaintance with one another at the ceremony, but I do hope you enjoyed your stay here in my humble abode.” She bowed ever so negligibly.

“The pleasure to meet you is all mine, Your Grace. I am ever grateful to have been given the opportunity to attend a momentous occasion such as this,” he said, bowing in kind. “Please, call me Lysander.”

Cleo gave no reply, simply looking back at him with an empty stare.

After several uncomfortable moments, Lysander asked, “Have I done something to offend you?”

“No,” Cleo replied. “I was lost in thought for a moment, I apologize. Could you possibly repeat yourself?”

“Oh… I had asked if you would call me by my name, Lysander.”

“Ah. I am not particularly inclined to surrender honorifics, especially as my position is lower than yours. I would prefer to continue maintaining courtesy, Your Grace.”

He frowned as if out of pity or disappointment. “Lower position than I? Nonsense, you are a duchess of this kingdom as much as I am a duke.”

“Unfortunately, I doubt such sentiments are shared by all. I am capable of recognizing that my status as a knight and a commoner are likely still in the hearts of many, and I can understand their reservations.” Cleo explained as she looked away momentarily. “That is not to say, however, that I will remain content with such views on my character and lineage. I am… biding my time, preparing, so to speak.” Her eyes returned to his.

Lysander seemed surprised, or that was the best way she could explain it. Was it out of disgust? Sympathy? Or was it what Cleo truly dreaded, that he was in awe of her? Why did I have to open my mouth and say that? Maybe it had been the look on his stupid face, that awfully shining, puppy-like enthusiasm. Maybe it was this character’s way of assuring a possible ally, or opponent, that she had no intention of standing by as a pawn or puppet. Whatever it was, Cleo could not have stopped herself had she even tried.

Her words to Elliot the day of the banquet did not come back to her own ears. “Don’t become the character,” I had said, yet here I am. It’s far too late for me, now isn’t it?

The duke straightened his posture and cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose that is a good way to go about it,” he said. “I do hope you settle into life as a noble; should you ever require any sort of assistance, please do not hesitate to call upon me, Your Grace. I would be most humbled by a request from such an esteemed figure as yourself.”

“You flatter me,” Cleo replied. She gestured for him to leave in the politest way she could, seeing him out to his carriage. “I appreciate your attendance, and, please, do give my regards to the houses that could not attend.”

Lysander gave her a charming, sweet smile as he nodded. Duchess Calidursa gave no such response in kind. As the door closed and the horses trotted off, she let out a breath. Here’s to hoping he doesn’t make trouble in the future. She had hardly even said a proper goodbye and he still retained his cheery, well welcomed demeanor. She failed to grasp why he could possibly have offered to help a placeholder noblewoman who had done nothing but fight her way to the top of the social hierarchy.

Cleo pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind; she had more important things to take care of. Schemes began to form and her Panel materialized before her to record them. Her feet unknowingly carried her around the estate until they arrived at the training ground in the East Wing of Calidursa Manor.