“So you say, but how do you plan on doing that?” Francis asked. If nothing else, he needed to buy time. He needed a solution, one that he did not have.

“A mage never reveals anything more than they have to. Anything can be used as a weakness.”

“I also couldn’t help but notice that my usual clothes are gone. Fairly certain this is a crime, old man.”

The corners of the mage’s lips curled up. He stood up, and kicked the wooden chair away. It crashed against the cobblestone walls and broke into pieces.

Walter was tall and lean. The robes that he wore draped onto the cobble floor. Picking up the staff, he touched Francis’ head with its tip.

“There. That’s as far as I can go in terms of ethics. You can still lie, but I’ll know if what you said was true.”

“Hmm. Did you need to rush? Bladder’s failing you?”

“Don’t push it, kid. Test questions. What’s your name?”

“Francis Rayleigh.” The mage opened his mouth in subtle bewilderment.

“Ah, right. I see. That’s not your name that you acknowledge. Then I suppose it’d be the feminine version. Frances Rayleigh. My apologies.”

“Well, at least you have the courtesy to try to not deadname someone. Still, it's not that type of situation.”

“You don’t seem to be lying. What happened to you?”

“Ho boy. First, I got drugged. Someone probably stripped me naked, did who knows what to me, put me in a set of handcuffs, and now here. All while unconscious, by the way.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I did, but you also know that if you wanted me to talk, you’d need to waterboard me,” Francis shook his head. The chains reaching from his back clinked around.

“And what made you think I wouldn’t?”

“Who’s to say?” He smirked.

“Next question. Would you give your life up for the Varexian Empire?”

“What the hell is that?” he asked the other one.

“That’s the empire you’re part of, dumbass.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Well?”

The mage used his staff. Wielding it with the grace of a sharpened knife, he lifted up the captive’s chin. The wood was cool to the touch, and even from the brief moment of contact, he could feel the intricate cuttings and grooves in the wood.

“Who’s to say?”

“Usually, the children aren’t quite so troublesome. At the first glance of danger, kids your age typically spill everything, sometimes without even asking.”

“Oh no~ I’m so scared. Where’s my mama? Wah.”

Walter was not amused. He maintained his tight poker face, and flicked Francis’ forehead with his fingers. The blow sent him backwards, his chains clanging against the metal base on top.

“He does raise a good point. How are you staying so calm in this situation?”

“There, you should be able to see the relevant memories. Not my first experience with getting drugged, kidnapped, and assaulted by my girlfriend.”

“By your girlfriend? You made bad choices.”

“We were both criminals.”

“Is that it?” Francis asked.

“What, it's not like you’re going to give me anything useful anyways. What did you think of her? Her Highness, I mean.”

The mage leaned back against the stone walls. Reaching into his robes, he took out a silver coin. The orange candlelight illuminated half his face as he started playing with it.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Walter reached for the captive’s face with his other arm. His hand ended up pushing a lock of grey hair away. With a quiet whisper, a small hair clip formed. He placed it, locking the hair in place.

“You’ve got a small scar there.” Walter motioned to the top of his forehead. “What happened?”

“Well?” he asked.

“It wasn’t anything too extreme. I fell down while climbing a tree with my sisters, and it healed weirdly.”

“Magic is an incredible thing.”

“I reject your offer.”

“That’s... Huh,” the other side muttered.

“What? You figured something out?”

“Ask him about the memory erasure. I think I’ve just figured something out.”

“Right then. How does that spell work? You’ll wipe my memories after this.”

“No harm in telling you now. It isn’t as though you can break away from me. There’s two layers to it, making it already a complicated spell. First, I have to identify what memories I wish to work with, then I need to erase them. Identifying those relevant here isn’t the hard part, after all, memory transfers aren’t too uncommon. It's the erasure that’s difficult. I have to overcome your will with my mana, and expend so much of it to get rid of your memories. Altering memories is even harder, and pretty much impossible,” Walter explained.

“Why is it harder to change it?”

“For your age, you can imagine a memory as a pot filled with water. Isn’t it much easier to smash it into pieces and sweep the chunks away, then to scoop out all the water and replace it with something else? I’m sure you’ve smashed a pot or two in your life.”

“Who’s to say.”

Walter shook his head. Picking up his staff again, he stashed the coin within his robes. Several markings on his staff glowed a light blue as he spoke an incantation. He gripped onto Francis’ head with his left hand, and closed his eyes.

“Do you have anything else to confess before you lose all memory of this?”

“Who’s to say?”

“Fuck you.”

The head of the staff shone with a brilliant blue. He pointed it towards Francis’ forehead, much like a weapon. And in what seemed like an instant, he woke in the morning. The birds sang outside, and he rubbed his eyes.

“Wakey-wakey.”

Francis stretched as a maid knocked on the door. The sun was already hanging up in the air. The servant walked in after he allowed her passage. She assisted him with all manner of things, from dressing to brushing his hair. Her name was Charlotte, and was temporarily assigned as his personal maid, as she explained.

“So. Several things.” The other part cleared his throat. “You probably don’t recall anything.”

“Am I supposed to?”

“No. That means that Walter managed to do it. But I can draw several conclusions.”

“Go ahead. It's not like I can do anything while she’s putting... Is that a dress?”

He squinted his eyes. The maid lifted up a long, flowy white dress. Puffy sleeves, made of a semi-transparent fabric.

“Lord- Apologies. Lady Rayleigh. Her Highness has requested that we provide Lady Frances Rayleigh with an assortment of dresses and skirts, as well as corsetry. Would the Lady like to don the presents?”

“Do I really have a choice here?”

“Is the Lady asking me for my honest opinion, or simply making a statement?”

“Well, we both know what your opinion would be, I’m sure.”

“Then I shall get started, My Lady. I would warn you that wearing a corset for the first time can be uncomfortable.”

“I’d be more shocked if it wasn’t.”

With a soft grunt, he gritted his teeth as the maid pulled the corset tight. It dug into his skin. Though, upon a yelp of shock, she loosened it and apologised.

“You can’t really refuse her.”

“Why do you think I’m doing this?”

“Anyway. It seems like magic that affects ‘consciousness’ can only affect one at a time. At least, that’s what the memory erasure has as a limit. I recall everything that transpired, and you won’t.”

“Is that right. So fill me in then. I can’t do anything else right now anyways.”

The other one recounted the events of the previous night. The drugging, the interrogation, everything. Francis could only sigh, which caused the maid to look up.

“Are you alright, My Lady?”

“I’m fine. Rather, you don’t need to doll me up too much. I’m just having breakfast with Her Highness before I leave.”

“My Lady. Her Highness, the crown princess, told me that you would say that exact same thing. And she told me in no uncertain terms that you are to be informed that she has taken interest in you.”

“Is that right. That’s that and this is this. And this is enough. Where is Katalina?”

“I believe the dame is making her rounds, along with our own knights.”

Francis nodded. With a small turn, he finished his own preparations. The maid tied his hair into a bun, and pushed a silver hairpin through.

Charlotte presented him in front of a mirror. The dress hem reached down midway to his calves. It wasn’t too bad in terms of design. Certainly, it felt dated, but that was only because he was used to the modern fashion of his previous life.