Joe groaned in agony as she tossed around in her bed for the fifth time. It was getting impossible to sleep. She cracked open an eye with some difficulty. One bleary look through the window told her that it was sometime between three and four o’ clock in the late afternoon, but she could have been mistaken. The sky was painted in a dreary grey, hidden behind a battalion of rainclouds and filled with the smell of damp earth fleeting through a cool summer breeze.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Mere moments later, the steady drizzle suddenly burst forth into a storm of furious, torrential rain.
The girl eyed the tiny raindrops spraying gracelessly against the window pane. The weather had been perfectly bright and sunny all through the morning, only to take a sharp nosedive sometime around midday. She could almost taste the petrichor in the air. A sudden wave of melancholy washed over like a shroud, making her dizzy with homesickness and nostalgia.
Joe tossed out the thoughts before they could even begin to take root inside her mind.
Nothing good ever came out of wallowing in those thoughts, she told herself scathingly. Focus on this world first. There’d be plenty of time to drown in nostalgia, later. Right now, it would only serve as a hindrance.
“Can you stop being dramatic for a moment?” Lady Joanna’s voice was scratchy, as if she’d been rudely awoken from her beauty sleep. How the hell did she even sleep inside someone’s head? “The rain’s making me miserable as it is. I don’t want to hear you whine on the top of it.”
Joe cocooned further into the blankets.
After returning to her room this morning, the girl had only managed to keep herself awake until Lucia was finished fussing over her like a mother hen. After the maid had left, Joe promptly flopped down on her bed and was out like a light. She’d slept all through the morning, and only stirred awake sometime in the afternoon when hunger began gnawing in her stomach. Her knees and hips were hurting like hell; the rest of her body felt sore and heavy, as if someone had run a bulldozer over her.
Joe idly wondered what Nero was up to.
After they had managed to sneak back in the manor, that man had safely deposited her in Lucia’s capable hands and disappeared off to a ramshackle cabin quite aways from the Winsten rose garden. Truth to be told, Joe hadn’t imagined that the entry back in the manor would be as smooth as this. But Nero was a man many talents, which included but was not limited to cooking up a perfect story about a newly hired errand boy from the capital, right on the spot.
“I didn’ hear ‘bout any new hires.” The guard stationed at the smaller entranceway had been busy raking his eyes over her disguise. Joe was thankful for the oversized scarf that Nero had messily wrapped around her head. The threadbare shirt was making her itchy, but she clamped down on the urge and resolutely kept staring at the ground.
“Well yes. There was a sudden shortage of hands.” Nero had a firm hand on her shoulder. “He’s a temporary hire; one of Nero’s old acquaintances recommended this lad. He’s only fourteen, but Nero assures you that Nero can vouch for his character, Mr Kimbley.”
Joe had managed a small nod in his general direction.
The guard, Kimbley, hadn’t looked like he was convinced in the least. Who the hell brings random errand boys from who knows where so early in the morning?! Why did this have to happen in his first shift, dammit?!
“Err, look. Ye say that, but I don’ think —”
“Are you doubting my words, Mr Kimbley?” Nero’s smile had a sinister edge to it. To the uninformed, his face might have looked like a picture of perfect innocence, but Joe knew. She knew that tone well enough to start shuffling backwards as discreetly as possible.
Thankfully, Mr Kimbley had taken the hint as well. It was hard not to, especially when a 224 pounds 6’ 3” muscled ex-soldier was staring down at you with such an …. erm, earnest expression. Kimbley gulped, then coughed into his fist, and quickly checked around the walls for any people nearby.
“Ye did not see anyone ‘ere, alright?” The guard narrowed his eyes, jabbing a finger on Nero chest. “My shift was already over by the time ye arrived, is that clear?!”
Nero nodded pleasantly. “Crystal. I do not even know your name, my good Sir.”
The apparently anonymous ‘good sir’ had grunted, and then stepped aside. Nero and Joe had managed to run all the way to the stables without getting caught again. Mornings were the busiest time of the day in the Winsten manor, and nobody had the spare moment to frolic around in the grounds aimlessly.
“Do I have to change into that?!” Joe had whined when Nero finally dug out the bundle of maid’s uniform that Lucia had hidden behind the stables the night before. “Can’t I get inside the halls as an errand boy?”
“Errand boys are not allowed to enter a lady’s room without permission.” Nero told her. He smoothed out the wrinkles on the cloth and handed the uniform to the girl. “Don’t untie the scarf. Keep your head down and go straight towards your bedroom without any detours, milady. You will find Lucia waiting there.”
“Nero?”
“Yes milady?”
Joe had turned away before he could see the smile spreading on her lips. “Thank you for all your help today. I’ll see you later.”
She could hear his familiar giggle as she walked away. “Of course, milady.”
--------------------------------------------
Approximately ten minutes after Joe had given up on any hopes of sleep, there was a knock on the door. It was a series of three precise and careful taps, nothing like Lucia’s exaggerated knocks that always made it seem like she was going to announce the end of the world. Joe peeled herself off the bed and sat up straighter. She wasn’t quite ready to show her pathetic face to anyone yet.
“Please come in.”
It was Mirian. The maid strode inside purposefully, found a very disheveled Joanna Winsten blearily blinking at her from the bed, and promptly forgot the words she was going to say. She opened her mouth for a moment, and closed it, and then opened it again. Somewhat like a goldfish, Joe thought. “Yes, Mirian?”
“Are you—” alright? was what Mirian wanted to ask, but caught herself in time. No unnecessary words, she reminded herself. She wasn’t going to give the young Lady the satisfaction of catching her in a foolish slip of tongue, oh no ma’am. Mirian was plenty kind, but she was not stupid.
“You have a study session with Sir Ernstwing scheduled for this evening, Milady.” The maid’s eyes roamed over her body. Oh, to hell with the consequences! “Shall I make arrangements to cancel it for the day— if Milady is not feeling well?”
Joe grimaced. She must be really looking like shit if Mirian had the time to take pity on her. “Which subject?”
The maid frowned at the non-answer. “Political history, Milady Joanna.”
What a frigging pain in the arse!
Joe wanted to ditch the lesson; oh, she wanted to ditch the lesson so bad. But then Mirian will report the anomaly to the head maid, who will then report it to the Winsten family doctor, and the latter will soon come snooping into her bedroom armed with his needles and a head full of suspicions.
No thank you. The last thing Joe wanted was for anybody to discover the cuts and scratches on her limbs and start asking questions. It was a small mercy that the frumpy dresses of nobility covered as much skin as possible without looking like a sack of potatoes, because Joe hadn’t had the opportunity to think of any suitable excuse till now.
She might have to, sooner or later.
“I will attend it.” A sudden idea sprouted in her mind. Usually, these impromptu ideas meant bad news for everyone involved, but Joe figured that she had very little to lose. If she had the time to be whining about sore muscles, then she might as well put that time to good use.
“Are you… sure?” Mirian was looking at her like she expected the young girl to topple over like a stack of LEGOs any second now. Very uncharacteristic of the veteran maid, Joe mused. The Mirian she’d known till now always meant business, albeit in a very reliable, ‘I-always-follow-orders-but-I-still-have-your-best-interests-in-mind’ kind of a way.
Joe waved a dismissive hand. “I am. Could you please brew a cup of your special honeyed-herbal tea for me?”
The maid nodded with some uncertainty. She still wasn’t used to hearing an abundance of ‘please’s from the young Winsten Lady. The charade was getting more and more disconcerting each passing day, and Mirian did not want to accidentally get swept away in this normalcy and make a fool out of herself.
She excused herself politely, before any other dangerous thoughts could slither into her mind.
---------------------------------------
Joe straightened up with some effort as Sir Dumas Ernstwing hobbled inside the room at precisely 5 o’ clock on the dot. He was a reedy old man with a balding head and a ridiculously impeccable sense of fashion. The man might have been a popular ladies man once upon a golden time in his youth, but now he only resembled a red-faced baboon. Joe might have even found it in herself to respect the man, if he wasn’t the most rigid old fart she’d ever seen in her life.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Open your textbook at page eighty-six.” He began without any preamble.
Typical private tutor of the nobles. This man was all business and no idle talk. Oh well, that suited Joe just fine. She was vastly better equipped to deal with people that went straight to the point.
But the same couldn’t be said about the impending lessons scheduled for today.
Political history was boring. These endless lists of nobles and their long-ass titles did little to pique her curiosity. Joe turned the pages with distaste. The book was filled with useless information most of the time— long paragraphs singing praises of the previous kings and queens of Triciella, political scandals rife with melodrama, stupid laws that benefited absolutely no one but the nobles and royalty, and petty rivalries between the powerful clans that went on for generations. The kind of information that would serve no purpose in real life… well, unless you were a noble that enjoyed scandalous tales.
“In conclusion,” Sir Ernstwing droned on blithely; Joe must have tuned out most of his introduction, “... there are nine major clans in Triciella that hold most of the political power among the nobility. Some clans, like the Frost and the Clarence have been a part of the High Nobles since the foundation of our kingdom. Others rose to power over the next few decades, amidst the civil wars and rebellions, when the newly founded Triciella was at the peak of its political instability.”
Joe leaned forward with feigned interest. It was undoubtedly a member of the Clarence clan that had founded the famous St. Clarence Academy of the kingdom.
“Could you kindly repeat the names of the High Noble clans, Sir?”
The man gave her a dirty look, as if he had been served bland white noodles and then asked to eat them with his bare hands. “Pay attention, Lady Joanna.”
“Of course, Sir Ernstwing.”
Her tutor cleared his throat purposefully.
“The Frost and Clarence clans are the two most ancient clans of our kingdom. After that, the clans of Fernandez, Winsten and Ravenfall rose to prominence almost simultaneously in the next few decades. Each of these clans specialized in some form of magic— as an example: the Fernandez clansmen have had a strong affinity with lightning magic for generations, as did the Frost clansmen with ice magic.” The old man paused for a breath. “But it was the mighty Grayford clan that ultimately put an end to the last of civil wars, and consequently set itself apart as one of the High Nobles of Triciella.”
Joe swallowed. The Grayford clan had held the throne for centuries. Its clanspeople made up the royal family of Triciella. And no one spoke lightly of the royal family of Triciella.
“The clans of McFarlane and Lannix rose to power several decades later, during the peaceful times that followed. The McFarlanes boast of the high magical purity in their lineage, while the Lannix clansmen have the greatest magical diversity among the noble houses in Triciella. The last to achieve the status of High Noble are the Trelawneys, one of the powerful clans that had migrated from the southern isles of the Fallian Sea, and had settled down in our kingdom some two centuries ago.”
Frost, Clarence, Fernandez, Winsten, Ravenfall, Grayford, McFarlane, Lannix and Trelawney. Joe mentally repeated. Being the firstborn of the Winsten clan, it was inevitable that she might encounter other nobles from these prominent families sooner or later.
The girl turned to her tutor with the most innocent expression she could muster at the moment.
“What about the Pellingway?”
That elicited a twitch from Sir Ernstwing‘s droopy eyes.
His voice was measured when he spoke. “What about them?”
“The Pellingway clan was famed for its prowess in martial arts and weapons, yes?” Joe tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I read some of the old records of war from the archives in Central Library,” fat lies; all she had done was wheedle the information out of Nero during their ride back to the Winsten manor, “And I found that the Pellingway clansmen and women held powerful positions as military generals for many generations.”
Sir Dumas Ernstwing betrayed no hint that he had heard her words at all.
“And that was not all.” Joe went on gleefully. “The Pellingway clanspeople have a great affinity with steel magic— a common derivative of the fire and earth attributes, hence their skills with martial art weapons. Once upon a time, their people had the sole monopoly on trade of weapons in Triciella and the neighbouring lands.”
“…And what is the point of this little lecture, young Lady?” The old man raised a skeptical brow in her direction.
Joe’s grin was far too sharp for his liking. “Oh, I do not know, Sir. I find it very difficult to believe that such an important clan, which had existed since the founding days of our great Kingdom, is currently not a part of the High Nobles, when all the ancient texts and records show signs to the contrary. It is quite odd, do you not think so?”
Sir Ernstwing’s mouth was pulled into a tight line. “The clan of Pellingway had been stripped of its status as a High Noble clan many years ago. If you actually did some useful research instead of wasting your time with war records, you would have learnt that already.”
Ah there it was— the meat of the matter. No matter how much Joe had pestered him, Nero had been unwilling to divulge the whole details about the mysteries of the Pellingway clan. Something about it being too politicized and troublesome to meddle into— Nero’s words, not hers. Joe found the whole thing downright fishy. And for all her fickleness and feigned disinterest, actually Lady Joanna agreed.
Joe lowered her lashes bashfully. “I am afraid I do tend to get… distracted, whenever I visit the Central Library, Sir Ernstwing. There’s simply so much to learn about our great kingdom, and too little time to read it all…”
Sir Ernstwing pushed up his gold rimmed glasses with one wrinkled finger, and stared at his pupil impatiently. The young Lady was being awfully talkative today.
“…. And so, it would be very helpful if you could explain to me— the details and events leading to the fall of the Pellingway clan, Sir.”
The old man’s glare did not falter. “That particular topic is well outside today’s lesson. You have yet to complete the assigned curriculum.”
“Very well then, Sir. Would it be alright if we discussed about it after today’s lessons?”
“There’s nothing to discuss, young Lady. I already covered all the details last year.”
Did he?! Joe furrowed her brows. This was going to be a problem…
“He did not.” Lady Joanna snorted. “He merely parroted a single textbook line about it during the entire two hours. Oh, I remember that one: In the summer of year X985, as per the royal decree, the entire Pellingway clan was stripped of its status as a High Noble for eternity, for the illegal procurement of unregistered weapons and for the grave offence committed against a noble family of Triciella”
‘That’s some impressive memory.’ Joe didn’t know jack diddly squat about illegal weapons in Triciella, but the words after that had piqued her interest. What grave offences did the Pellingway clan commit to have pissed the king off so thoroughly?
When she repeated Lady Joanna’s line to Sir Ernstwing word for word, the latter’s red face had gone a little pale.
“I-I hadn’t known that you remember my lessons so well.”
Joe smirked.
“With all due respect, Sir Ernstwing.” She folded her fingers neatly on her lap; the picture of a perfect noble lady. “…I found that particular explanation, a little— lacking. As a daughter the Winsten family, I do believe that it would be prudent to properly learn from the past events and political pitfalls so as not to repeat their… ahem, mistakes. Don’t you think?”
The old man stared at the girl with an unreadable expression on his face. Joe didn’t know what to make of it. Had she unwittingly insulted him? Was he beginning to get suspicious of her behavior? Did she accidentally push his buttons too far?
Finally, her tutor broke the stare and ran a hand over his shining bald head. A long, haggard sigh was dragged out of his mouth. “There’s nothing to learn from the Pellingways, young Lady Joanna. All of them have been long dead.”
Yes, all except Edwina Pellingway, apparently. Joe remembered Nero’s words. That woman, who was a prodigy in swordsmanship and martial arts, had gone missing from Triciella ever since.
“I would not have cared to derail from the lessons today.” Sir Ernstwing began, “…But this is something that you shall eventually have to learn and come to terms with. Especially so, because these events are unmistakably intertwined with the history of your family, Lady Joanna Valeria Winsten.”
This drew a frown from Joe. The Winsten family?
“You may find some of these facts uncomfortable, but learn about them you must.” The old man eyed her pointedly, as if he was expecting her to fly off the seat in an angry fit any moment now. “I am a educator before I am anything else, and I shall not mince my words. It is my duty to educate you about the turbulent history of Triciella, before you formally step into the high society.”
Sir Dumas Ernstwing slowly hobbled towards the door and peered into the hallways. When he was certain that none of the staff was lurking nearby, he slammed the doors shut. Joe jumped at the sound. What on earth was the old man doing?!
“In the beginning of the year X983,” the man’s voice was now quieter, as if he was afraid of angering the ghosts of the past, “Lord Geoffrey Andreas von Winsten— the then head of the Winsten clan and your grand uncle, got formally engaged with Lady Roberta Pellingway of the Pellingway clan.”
Joe blinked.
“It was a way to secure ties between the Winsten and the Pellingway, the first of its kind from the two great clans of Triciella, and it was proposed by Lord Geoffrey Winsten himself. It was his second marriage; his first wife had died childless. Notably, this union was opposed by several older members of the Winsten clan, but was supported equally by the younger generation, who saw this as an opportunity to get a better control of the weapons’ trade network in the kingdom.”
“Was there a reason for the opposition from the older members?”
“Oh, there’s always a reason.” Sir Ernstwing scoffed. “Despite being a very ancient clan, the complete past of the Pellingways is not very well documented. Once upon a time, their prowess with weapons had spurred them to fight many a bloody wars in this land. Some of their ancestors had gone mad after having dabbled with unsavoury magic. To top it all off, there have been several rumours that in ancient times, the Pellingway clanspeople used their powers to collude with the Devil himself.”
“Th-The Devil?!” Joe blurted out before she could stop herself.
Her tutor nodded. “But in the end, these were all rumours. I have no way of verifying things that get passed around by word of mouth. And that was probably what the younger members of the Winsten clan thought as well. They saw no reason to oppose the engagement, well, not until that particular night came to pass.”
Joe leaned forward with interest. “What night?”
“A month and a half before the wedding, on Lord Geoffrey’s thirtieth birthday, your father found him lying in a pool of his own blood outside of his bedchambers, a traditional Pellingway sword sticking out of his chest.”
WHAT?!
“Imbeciles!” Lady Joanna snorted. “As if the Pellingways would be so stupid as to kill off a potentially powerful ally before the marriage, and with one of their own weapons, no less!”
Joe couldn’t help but agree. This incident reeked of some evil conspirator. Or several evil conspirators. “With all due respect, Sir, it sounds like the Pellingways were framed.”
Sir Ernstwing raised up a hand. “It is not in our power to decide that, neither is it our duty to dig into matters outside of our jurisdiction. A week later, the main Pellingway castle was raided, and the army found several illegal, unregistered weapons hidden away in the dungeons. Four weeks later, the royal court produced its judgement before the public of Triciella.”
“The Pellignway clan was pronounced guilty, and was subsequently stripped of its High Noble status. They were effectively kicked out of the Triciellan nobility forever.”
Silence descended into the room when the old man was finished, and Joe found herself at a loss for words. Her mind was whirling. “B-But— the aftermath— how did— ?!”
Sir Dumas Ernstwing stroked his chin; his blue eyes were downcast. “Exactly ten days after the judgement, all the members of the Pellingway family, old and young, man and woman, were found dead— lying in the empty halls of the Pellingway castle. The entire clan was massacred in a single day, with none other than their own famed weapons of war.”
Before Joe could even begin to process the gruesome words, the old man had gathered his coat, quills and yellowed notebooks, and quietly shuffled out of the room without looking back.
-------------------------------------------
Next morning dawned bright and clear. The early autumn sky shone a pristine blue, peppered with wisps of clouds floating leisurely at the horizon. Birds sang, squirrels chittered, and the lazy humans of the Winsten household all left their beds with a smile on their face.
Well, all but one.
Joanna Stuart, currently residing in Joanna Winsten’s scrawny body, parted the satin silk curtains with a frown. She had been fervently hoping for a cloudy sky today. Hell, she had been hoping for a full-blown raging storm; an endless stream of torrential rain for the entirety of the blasted day!
But such things were not be.
The day was as beautiful as it was sunny, and Joe found her spirits plummet like a burning meteorite. Today was the occasion when she would be meeting the esteemed (read murderous) Prince Emmanuel Grayford in the Royal Castle of Triciella.
Nothing could deter an invitation from the royal palace, it would seem.
The morning was spent in a flurry of scented baths, emerald hairpins and flowing, impractical dresses that would serve absolutely no purpose other than occasionally tripping her down the road. Joe scowled angrily as a very determined Mirian began tightening the corset behind her back. Normally, the veteran maid would be very visibly cautious so as not to invoke the ire of Lady Joanna. Today however, it seemed as if Mirian had thrown caution to the wind. Understandable, because if anything went wrong today, the maids would be invoking Lady Patricia Winsten’s wrath instead.
By the time the maids had finished, Joe was seriously weighing the pros and cons of bashing her head to a nearby wall and giving herself a concussion. She hadn’t dressed so extravagantly in the entirety of her previous life, and the image reflected in the silver mirror was almost unrecognizable. “You look absolutely ravishing.” The villainess cooed inside her head. “Ah, correction: I LOOK RAVISHING! Prince Emmanuel will hardly be able to keep his eyes off me! ”
Joe scowled harder. Lucia, who must have misinterpreted it, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Hey hey hey!” she whispered excitedly. “You look beautiful, milady. Don’t worry, hey! I’m sure that his highness Prince Emmanuel will hardly be able to keep his eyes off you today!”
Gee thanks. Just exactly what she did not want at all!
When Joe managed to descend down the marble stairs with some difficulty, she found the horse carriage waiting near the gates of the manor— the Winsten crest gleaming boldly on its sides. The girl had a sudden urge to run back up the stairs and shut herself in the bedroom, but the consequences would be terrible. She wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Patricia took it upon herself to drag her out of the room and toss her into the carriage. The Winsten matriarch was awfully motivated whenever her noble family reputation was concerned.
The guards bowed low as Joe walked in front of them with measured steps. A tall, gangly man with short cropped hair and slanted eyes, escorted her to the carriage and held the door open for her like a perfect gentleman. She could hear snatches of a hushed conversation between Nero and Kimbley nearby. It went something like this:
“Hey! What happen’d to the new boy? The one that ye brought in yest’day?”
“Oh, that.” Nero answer was far too cheerful. “He broke an expensive vase and got kicked out.”
“Already?! Tch. So much for yer dratted recommendation.”
“Ahahaha! Don’t worry, we’ll find a replacement in no time at all!”
Joe ducked her head and hastily climbed into the carriage… lest anyone should suddenly liken her face to yesterday’s mysterious ‘errand boy’. Right now, there was nothing else she could do other than sit on her scrawny ass and get whisked away to the royal palace, straight in front of her future murderer.
However…
If she played her cards right, Joe thought nervously, there might actually be a chance to 1) befriend the second prince (read: get into his good graces) or 2) find a potential weakness that would safely cut off this blasted engagement and keep the prince away from her for good.
...And because Joe was trying to be really optimistic, y’know, she did not want to think about the unthinkable: 3) Piss the prince off in their first encounter and send herself hurtling straight towards the route of doom.