The Era Kingdom contained nine duchies in total. Most notably existed Patrimalus, arguably the most powerful; Uliasaddh, the largest; Calidursa, the least powerful; and Florier and Wicke.

Realistically, Florier had the most to gain from Calidursa’s reinstatement; as long as they were around, Florier was not the lowest in power. However, the trouble would come if they were to become enemies by Calidursa boosting its power and reputation as there had been quiet talks of the youngest daughter of the Florier house being chosen as the fiancee of the crown prince back when Cleo still worked in the royal Pearl Order.

On the other end of the spectrum, Uliasaddh was likely the worst threat. Being directly adjacent to Calidursa, it now surrounded its neighbor’s territory up until the mountains it was ill equipped to cross. The range that Calidursa’s manor sat upon protected its people from the southeast, leaving the northwest plains at the only entrance to their lands. Fortunately, Uliasaddh’s main claims laid to the northeast and would have to cross into other territories to take the northwest front. Thus, despite having had many years to absorb rightful Calidursa holdings, it still could not fully take over its longtime thorn in the side.

“Tsk.” Land hungry dirtbags. The duchess of said mountain duchy stared at her neon orange Panel as it documented her thoughts for later, arms crossed and brow crunched into a concentrated furrow. She went through all she could of “Cleo’s” memories to locate some sort of advantage she could gain against possible opponents to her intended expansion of influence.

“What does that leave…?” She mumbled to herself. Cleo slumped forward when she realized, “Oh… Wicke…” Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose. What an overly friendly first impression… He stayed longer than almost everyone else and had that… stupid look on his face, what even was that? Cleo was frustrated with the thought of having to deal with such a well-meaning man who appeared to have no ulterior motives, and yet it still shook her to see it.

Wicke: the ducal wild card. For generations, they have somehow managed to stay neutral on almost every issue, and when they did support a cause, they often twisted it to benefit everyone involved. They solidified themselves as a mediator of sorts despite frequent backlash from more polarized houses. The current Duke Wicke was the, relatively, young Lysander; he had inherited everything as the heir from his late father, and his mother supposedly fell quite ill after his passing. Although, she was recovering and taking a more active role in caring for her younger son, Duke Wicke’s brother, as she regained her strength and health. No one seemed to be sure what truly happened to the former duke, or, at the very least, that information did not reach Cleo’s ears.

The dame tried her best to convince herself that he had only offered to assist Calidursa out of a moral duty to the traditions of Wicke, and the lines on her face grew more pronounced. Amidst her contemplation of things yet to come, a nudge on her shoulder drew her back to the waking world.

“Had I not the ability to see that floating rectangle, I’d have thought you were trying to bore a hole through the poor horses over there with how intensely you stared,” a familiar voice remarked. Warm gray eyes peered down at her with a calming recognition of her mannerisms. “What has you so foiled that you didn’t even notice the carriage had arrived?”

Cleo blinked a few times rapidly in recombobulation as the tension subsided at the sight of Elliot. “I was just busy thinking about the houses we’ll have to try and win over,” she explained.

A carriage sat before them in the humble dirt-paved clearing that laid in front of the entrance to the manor. Mysthea had to request the cook send one when he took his own horse down to the village to purchase supplies. Another noble steed, donning a coat of lightly dotted chocolate brown and soft locks of dried and chilled winter grass, stood beside the two in bridles and blinders. This was to be Elliot’s horse; he would be serving as her escort for the day.

“Oh, you also forgot this,” he said, holding a ring between his fingertips. It was gold and thick with intricate engravings all along it. As the centerpiece, the likeness of a bear’s head had been carved into it and a ruby with many facets—almost leaf shaped—sat between its jaws.

Cleo quickly took it from his hand, slipping it into a securely buttoned pocket inside her cloak. The cool breeze threatened to snatch it from her had she waited another moment. “Where did you find it?” She asked while she adjusted her humble tan buttoned shirt, brown pants, worn cloth boots, and dark, hooded cape.

“You took it off and left it at the dining table when you ate breakfast,” Elliot replied. He, too, wore similar clothing. Putting on a pair of shabby leather gloves, he walked towards his mount and prepared to depart.

The duchess felt quite relieved that he had given the ring to her; it was the only real proof that she was, indeed, the duchess at all. The insignia of the bear and the ruby were almost immediately recognizable, however, she desired to keep it with her only for any sort of emergency that might arise as they visited town. Not that that’s likely, but it never hurts to be safe.

Elliot glanced back while he adjusted the reins on his horse and stroked its neck. His lips pressed together into a pensive, uneasy line, thinking, I know this is the first step in our plan, but I’m concerned about our success. After all, who would want to assist their ruler when they’ve been neglected for so many years? As he pondered, he was suddenly shaken by the remembrance of a far off memory.

Back when the only name he knew for himself was Elliot Yonderpass, he had lived in a relatively medium sized town. Although many of its residents had been farmers, it had served as something of a trading hub for the countryside to connect to other regions. Azuretahn was its name, in honor of its founding supposedly.

Buried beneath all of those days, weeks, months, years spent in that village was a distinct distrust for apathetic authority figures. The mayor, a wealthy man who had bought his position, paid no mind to the plights of the common folk, merely lining the pockets of himself and his fellow affluents. There was even a time when a fire started in the biggest tradehouse in the city, yet there was no one who could stop it and no one in office who provided any assistance, not before and not after it had completely burned to the ground. It had been a truly horrific sight, watching as sparks and, inevitably, ash flitted carelessly upon a breeze as flames devoured livelihoods.

I know Cleo would never let such a thing happen… Elliot thought. But the people of Calidursa don't know that yet. He watched her step into the coach that had waited patiently, and they began to set out. Mysthea could be seen briefly peering through the curtains of the house, and her eyes only momentarily met the commander’s before she slipped back into the shadows. In the couple of times the two had any contact, Elliot got the impression she was a wary person, however, she took great care in managing the estate. Each time he had requested something, the head maid saw fit to acquire all of the details for which it would be used for; this did not bother Elliot for the time being, but, in the future, it could present an issue.

The clip-clopping of horse hooves upon the bumpy mountain path lulled along with the hushed symphony of lush leafage, swayed by dancing winds, and birds feathered in earth and sky. Harmonies pranced to the beat of rolling wheels. All was glazed with a serenity that could soothe even the most broken soul. Or it could nail in the final crack of a nearly shattered spirit. If one listened too closely for too long, the intoxicating, alluring ballad that had been crafted in imperfect perfection by a choir of an interconnected web of all that lived and did not live would inevitably warp into an unbearably honey-sweet din that could drive a man mad.

Elliot eventually could no longer stand it and trotted up along the side of the coach. Cleo could be seen staring out the other window, lost deep in thought. “Your Grace,” the knight called once, twice, until his lady looked back at him.

“What is it, Commander?” She scooted over to sit beside the other door.

“Where are we headed to first in town?” He had no real reason to ask, and no real care to know, but he inquired regardless to quell the deafeningly loud silence.

“Ah, well, I intended to simply peruse the local shops for the start of the day, and then hang up the hiring posters wherever we can,” Cleo replied coolly, cautiously glancing around the window frame and forward to the hired coachman. “Hopefully, we’ll get a reply by the end of the day. If not, we’ll just have to wait patiently.”

“And if no one accepts the position? What then?”

“Then we’ll have to search elsewhere or somehow make it more appealing,” she said with a careless shrug, not a hint of worry in her voice.

She must have a backup plan. She has to. Elliot’s eyebrows furrowed in apprehension.

“Commander, would you relax and stop being so uptight about all of this?” Cleo commented bluntly, shocking him out of his dread. “Just because you got a new title does not mean you suddenly need to worry or change to be better. You already do enough as it is, so just trust me, Elliot. It’s my job to worry about what we’re doing next. You’re my sword and shield now, and that’s all I ask. Well, that and I hope you still remain my friend.” She cleared her throat and added, “Are we clear, Commander?”

His tight expression relaxed into a thankful smile, head nodding in compliance. Elliot reached out to take her hand that sat upon the edge of the square opening she gazed out of. Palm to palm, he squeezed it for a sense of reassurance, and Cleo responded in kind, granted, a little taken aback. Her knight escort let go of the grasp, returning his grip to his horse’s reins and moving away from the carriage.

The duchess let out a single inconsequential chuckle as she turned away. Her arm retreated back into the warmth of her coat in the same motion as she leaned back into the poorly cushioned seat. She closed her eyes to let the remainder of the uneventful trip fly by without her. Cleo’s last thought before she drifted somewhere between the waking world and the land of dreams was, He reminds me of a puppy.

And before they knew it, they had arrived at the biggest town in Calidursa.

Streets bustled with all the chaos of a flock of birds; people rushed about in their daily activities from shopping to working to cleaning to hurrying away. The main streets were wide and paved with cobblestone varying in age as some clearly had been replaced and some clearly needed to be replaced, but there were alleyways of dirt that snuck between the almost ancient buildings. They may have been well kept, but their years clearly showed in the architecture. The edges of town were lined with much newer cottages and houses, and much like the rings of a tree, the farther to the center one traveled, the older the town became.

The undercover duchess and commander, in an effort not to be separated, stayed close. Elliot set his hand on the pommel of his sword in preemptive caution. Cleo held her hood firmly over her head to hide her trademark Calidursan red hair. Their plan was to pass themselves as a wealthy commoner and her hired guard, knowing full well their lackluster disguises would fool only a fool. Consequently, many of the townsfolk sent wary glances their way, which they made a point to ignore.

Over the course of Cleo’s life in the Pearl Order, she had always made it a point to learn proper noble etiquette; she would always watch very carefully at gatherings she guarded and even listened in on lessons given to the younger princesses. Cleo certainly did now know everything, however the basics she had ingrained into her own everyday mannerisms and speech.

It was advantageous to her; after all, nobles only respected other nobles. It was not enough for Cleo to be the most well renowned knight in the kingdom, for she had to earn the favor of those she was to serve. This was not to say Cleo’s previous lives did not play a significant role in her posture and elocution. Acting was her best skill, and with acting, one can convince anyone they are capable of almost anything.

I know we don’t look normal, but the least they could do is mind their own business, the duchess thought to herself, taking an unfortunate amount of annoyance out of the stolen stares directed at herself and her companion.

Thankfully, they ran into no trouble on their way to the center plaza. In front of them stood a towering town hall with a vast marketplace to compliment it. The settlement may not have been the star of any kingdom life but it certainly was grand. It would have been perfect as a trading hub if not for its unfortunate location in the almost desolate Calidursa. Elliot looked upon it and thought of how extraordinary it would be for this place to be brought to light to other territories. Never in my two lives have I ever seen a place this filled with life in such an isolated location. They must have built this all up when Calidursa was still in its prime, he concluded.

Inconspicuously, the two of them slipped through swaths of trampling feet belonging to customers and townspeople. When they made it to the main announcement and notice board that stretched along the edge of the massive courtyard, they found an open spot as close to the town hall entrance as they could and nailed in their own hiring poster. The paper read, “Hiring servants of any kind to the House of Calidursa,” and listed needed positions and wages, bearing the official Calidursan seal in the bottom corner for authenticity.

As quickly as they came, the duchess and her escort disappeared into the crowd once again. Making their way to an street that branched off from the plaza, they heard commotion near the notice but did not turn back to identify what was occurring.

The two of them wandered for a while, taking in the scenery. They came across an unexpectedly busy boulevard; it seemed to have established stores, cafes, and boutiques. Figuring it was worth exploring, they stepped into what looked like a tailor’s shop. A little bell jingled above the door, cheerfully announcing their entrance.

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Inside, there seemed to be no one waiting around or shopping, making the atmosphere fairly unwelcoming. Nothing appeared to be amiss within the story; it was brightly lit from the sun streaming through the front windows, and varieties of suits and dresses were illuminated as they stood on display.

Elliot was the first to speak. “Do you think anyone is here? It seemed open…” He was beginning to sound unsure, almost turning to leave. A loud crash followed soon after, and someone fumbled through the curtains covering a doorway on the back wall. It was a short man with a thick mustache and beard and small, circular spectacles atop his round nose. He seemed to be quite flustered.

“Oh goodness, I have visitors!” He began, fretfully hurrying up to Cleo and Elliot. “I do apologize that I did not greet you when you entered! I was quite busy with a project and almost didn’t realize anyone had answered, so-” The excitable gentleman stopped himself and continued, “I seem to have gotten away from myself. How can I help you this fine autumn day?”

Cleo absentmindedly swept her gaze across the clothing displays once again. Hmm… They seem to be good quality, yet no one is here, she pondered. The store owner looked at Elliot who shrugged. They exchanged silent words through their glances, the man wondering what was happening and Elliot let him know that he did not know.

The disguised duchess had returned to peering at the two of them while they were distracted, and she cleared her throat. “How come there is a sore lack of customers?” She asked bluntly.

The stout gentleman was taken aback. “Might I ask what prompted your question, madam?”

She gave him a thoughtful look from beneath her dark gray hood and replied, “Well, the quality of your garments seems quite good. I found it odd that no one would be shopping here or even window shopping.”

He seemed to brighten at her compliment, saying, “Ah, I appreciate your kind word; unfortunately, the clothes I make are terribly out of style even by Calidursan standards.”

Elliot chimed in when Cleo did not. “In that case, why don’t you change the way you make the?” He quickly added, “I mean no offense, I am just curious as I am sure my mistress is as well.”

The man gave a mirthful laugh. “No offense taken, young man. If anything, your question makes a lot of sense.” He strode over to a hung up coat and ran his fingers along the sleeve’s hem. “My work is my pride and joy, and I couldn’t give it up even if it killed me. I know I am not the most successful businessman, and this place is more of a workshop than anything else. My wife lets me work on my projects here for half the week, and I help her with general store the other half. She is far more successful than I in these endeavors.”

The air in the room was joyfully bittersweet, causing Elliot to smile. Cleo, as she often was, seemed completely unaffected by the jolly man’s enthusiasm and love of his trade. However, she surprisingly spoke. “Good sir, I never caught your name.”

“Oh! My apologies, madam! It must have slipped my mind entirely!” He chuckled at his honest mistake. “My name is Winklebeep Merrigan. It’s quite the pleasure to meet you! Might I ask your name, madam, mister?”

Elliot quickly introduced himself, but Cleo took a moment to respond. “...Cleo. Just call me Cleo, Mister Merrigan.”

“There’s no need for such formality. Everyone calls me Wink, Miss Cleo,” Wink said with a warm, welcoming, almost familiar smile as if they had known him for years. “If there is anything you would like to look at or purchase, please do let me know! I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Cleo gave a graceful nod and answered, “We will most likely return at another time, thank you. I bid you a farewell.” She swiftly stepped to the door before turning back. “Ah, if you are looking for a possible customer of such fine works, I heard there was a significant job offering posted in the town square today that may be worthwhile.” A faint smile crossed her face as she exited the store.

Elliot said his goodbyes as well, hurrying after his duchess. Wink waved cheerfully as they departed and went into deep thought as they left. “New job offering…? That could require my work? What an odd opportunity. I wonder what it could be…” He was left scratching his head as he traveled to the back of the shop once again.

Cleo was glued to her orange Panel as they traveled towards the edges of the town. Elliot glanced occasionally over her shoulder and saw she was writing down a great deal of information from names to locations to even seemingly constructing a map. Unfortunately, she paid no regard to her surroundings as she did this, and her weary escort had to pull her away from several collisions.

The knight let out a loud sigh, exhaustion plastered on his face. “If you’re going to sigh like that, at least do it quietly,” Cleo almost immediately remarked. “This is not just for my own gain. We’ll both be able to look at this information once I’m done with it.”

“What could you possibly be writing that I can’t just remember? Actually, no, I don’t want to know,” Elliot said defensively, crossing his arms. This was not an interaction between a commander and duchess who had spent their entire lives together; these were the words of two strangers who had no choice but to be on tolerably good terms.

“Tsk.” She said nothing else. Their shifts and contradictions between their memories made them both uncomfortable. Elliot began to consider whether it was worth it to pretend Elliot Yonderpass had never existed. The thought only lingered momentarily as echoes of his life rang through his mind with a blanket of nostalgia. In the midst of it, however, he realized something: I don’t want to be here. Not in town, not in this kingdom, not in this weird reincarnation loop that’s going on. This isn’t for me… I miss home with my simple life. I miss my little house on the edge of Azuretahn where I could visit the local farms and borrow their horses for the day as long as I returned by nightfall. I miss the travelers I’d get to meet and hearing the places they’d been even if I could never visit for myself…

A deep frown carved itself onto his coffee tanned face. Cleo glance ever so briefly at Elliot and had to do a double take when she noticed his downcast expression. Her mouth opened instinctively, but she quickly shut it before she said anything. I don’t think there’s anything I could say that would make him feel any better… I have an inkling that it’s probably my fault, whatever it is. She left him to his rumination, but she did make her Panel disappear and continued to walk. A little twinge on an unpleasant feeling began to poke at her heart; however, she disregarded it as best she could. There was no time for useless distractions.

Their wandering in awkward silence led them to a dark courtyard that was almost like a crossroads for all of the back alleyways. Dusk had just begun to claw at the sky, lurking through the gaps between structures while its round silver eye leered at the mice citizens skittering about.

The number of people about the town had significantly lessened as night approached; however, there was a noticeable gathering of four near the edge of the area. A young woman sat upon an upright barrel, covering the label on top, and she was speaking with three men who seemed quite agitated. As Cleo and Elliot neared in their path to walk past them, they could hear a portion of their conversation, slowly somewhat out of curiosity.

“Listen, kid,” one of the large men said, “This is the best price we can offer. Now, it’s twenty gold for this here bag of grain. If you don’t like it, then you can just scurry on back to your little hovel and find yourself a better supplier.”

The woman scoffed and crossed her arms. “This is absolutely ridiculous! That’d cost me an arm and a leg! Just last week it was only fifteen gold, and the month before it was ten! And you creeps started driving out all the other local stores, so I’ve tolerated your ludicrous prices because I’ve been in a bit of a pinch. But this is just going too far.”

“C-creeps? Who are you calling creeps?!” One of the other thugs raised his voice. “Why I oughta-!”

“I’ll give you two options,” the lady replied in an interruption, leaning forward to set her forearms on her crossed knees and meeting their almost shaken gazes. “Ten gold pieces for the bag, no more or less, and we go our separate ways…”

“And what’s the second option?” One of them asked. They started to grow anxious in her razor sharp stare.

“Or I take this here torch—” she grabbed it from its convenient fixture on the wall just behind her— “and I light this barrel I’m sitting on right now. You know what this is, right? I don’t need to explain it?” The glint in her eyes was almost unnaturally bright in the rising moonlight, glazing them in a menacing gold. There was not a hint of wavering in those shimmering eyes.

A dark rock and a piece of metal shaped like a “C” slipped out of her pocket and into her hand. Holding the torch steady between her knees, she had free hands to hold her two newly revealed items. “Now that you have your choices, you have ten seconds to decide or I’ll blow this powder keg and you along with it.” In a hiss, the woman began counting down slowly, agonizingly.

“Y-you’ll be blown up too!!” Her opponents shouted, but she only gave them an unhinged grin.

“I don’t fear death…” She stopped counting for a moment. “Especially since it would get scum like you off of the streets. But I imagine you do value your lives, at least a little.” The sound of flint against steel resounded in the courtyard, and the few people there began to notice. Fear crossed their faces, many quickly moving away until the entire clearing was empty. That is with the exception of the scoundrels, their spectators, and the audaciously reckless young lady that now held a torch set ablaze.

Her countdown had nearly reached its end, and her explosive catalyst grew closer to her wooden seat filled with black powder. It was then that the sack of grain fell to the ground and frantic footsteps fled. The ruffians were gone; the back alley courtyard was silent; the bystanders’ shocked stares stayed fixed.

The woman calmly returned the torch to its wall fixture and hopped off of the barrel. The revealed label clearly said “GUN POWDER” on it along with several danger warnings. She swept up the bag that sat on the cobblestone, examining it. “Not bad… Not great, but not bad,” she mumbled to herself.

It was then that she noticed the pair of cloaked figures standing in the darkening night. Her face contorted to a display of confusion and annoyance. “Can I help you with something?”

Elliot’s jaw dropped at her nonchalant demeanor before Cleo snapped, “That is one of the most reckless situations I have seen in a very, very long time. What would have happened had they not run away?”

The response was laced with irritation. “First off, none of your business. Second off, I’ve done it before, and I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. Those people knew what would have happened. They made the only choice they could if they wanted to live– aw, darn it, I couldn’t give them the ten gold…”

The duchess and her knight were at a complete loss for words. They stood gaping there for a few moments while the short-haired woman fixed the tie on the sack of grain. As she threw it over her shoulder, she realized they still stood there aghast. "Can I help you with something…?"

Cleo gave her a chilly glare and said, "Under the authority of Calidursa, I ought to have you arrested for threatening those people along with nearly endangering the public."

The lady's now brown eyes—no longer the striking flames they were when she was prepared to end lives without regard---met Cleo's without hesitation. She scoffed, bitterly remarking, "Whose authority? Calidursa's? That useless house? There's no way you have any association with them. You must not be from around here because you clearly don't understand how little they do for the people in this land. If you think your baseless little threats are gonna scare me, then you certainly haven't paid attention." A challenging smirk glinted in the nearly set sun. "I don't answer to anyone without any proof."

Elliot watched as the ring he had found for Cleo earlier that day instantly reappeared in her hand. Her hood slid off with it, fully revealing her head and the icy glare she wore. "It has only been a week or so, so I cannot fault you for being unaware. However—" Duchess Calidursa held up the ring so it could easily be seen and immediately recognized— "I am the new Duchess Calidursa."

The woman was suspicious as she took a closer look at the insignia. The moment she fully processed what she had just done, she cleared her throat and gave a small bow. "My apologies, Your Grace."

Cleo turned up her nose and pulled her hood back on. "Now that I have your attention, may I ask your name?"

"My name is Chaia." She was unnervingly cooperative.

"Do you have a surname?" Cleo was beginning to grow suspicious herself, and Elliot also kept his eyes sharply trained on Chaia.

"I do, Your Grace, but I can't give that information out so freely."

"And why might that be?" Cleo's gaze narrowed.

Chaia still made no eye contact, remaining in her bowed stance with her eyes firmly shut. "No one in this town knows who I am related to, and I intend to keep it that way. If anyone knew, they would be able to target my family, you see."

The young lady's voice said she was not lying, but the duchess and the knight found it hard to believe. Regardless, they had no proof she was not telling the truth, so they let it slide. Then, Cleo had a thought. She's reckless enough to do this, but she's not stupid. She clearly knew just how to handle the situation so that it would exactly result the way she wanted it to. This might be a bad idea, but… "Here." She handed Chaia one of the posters they were hanging up.

Chaia looked up and took it, confused at first. She scanned the writing and gaped at the bottom when she saw the salaries. Quickly, she collected herself, clearing her throat. "I appreciate the offer. I'll have to think about it, but it's not likely I will accept. We'll see."

Cleo gave a strong nod. Chaia pocketed the paper after folding it up a couple times messily before saying, "If you ever need me or want to actually come arrest me, ask any of the barkeeps on this side of town where 'Firestarter' is. Or just use my name, either works."

Elliot finally chimed in with, "We never said we weren't going to have you arrested–" but by the time he had spoken, Chaia had already waltzed away into a narrow alleyway with her sack of grain. He was in a disarray as he commented, "That was like trying to talk to a walking tornado."

Cleo stifled a laugh. Elliot whipped his head to look at her in surprise, but when he did, her expression was blank and serious. He nearly questioned whether he imagined it, yet he knew he had not.

Their views on what had just occurred were vastly different. Cleo, who had seen and witnessed her fair share of worlds and peoples almost instantly recognized Chaia’s potential; she may have been impulsive, but no one so confident would be missing their escape route. She had something up her own sleeve, and she had complete conviction in her course of action, leading Cleo to believe she could end up being very useful.

Elliot on the other hand was particularly appalled by Chaia. She was impulsive, she was reckless, and she had no regard for her own safety or the safety of others. She would most likely have no loyalty beyond herself; she was probably a flat out criminal. She had essentially stolen that bag of grain that was not even worth the trouble she caused. Granted, those people had tried to swindle her with ridiculously high prices, but that was still no reason to endanger everyone in the vicinity for a conflict between four individuals.

So, while they had vastly different reasons, they both came to the same conclusion: We must find Chaia again.