I reincarnated as the Duke from the North.

I leaned back, trying to take it in. A new enemy. With the ability to summon cursed beasts and hide throughout the city's tunnels.

“Your Grace. A chest.” I went to Jimmy, who was standing over a wooden grime covered chest. I flipped the lid open with my boot, revealing more empty boxes.

“I think I have seen them before. They are meant to keep bugs for transport.”

I lifted one up.

Not as empty as I thought. Our secret helper stopped them before they could unleash the full load.

“Jimmy, note this as evidence to pick up.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

I looked closer. From house spiders to venomous arachnids, I recognised them from their supersized form.

Drained bodies, runes, and small spiders.

“They used the women's blood in a sacrificial ceremony to make these spiders grow with the curse and attack the city.”

"Pure evil from beginning to end," Jimmy said with disgust.

I placed the box of insects down.

“Let's get out of here.”

 

I lept and exited the hole, with Jimmy following me. “Jimmy, assign officers to search through the sewage tunnels. Any signs of red writing, let me know.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” With a salute, my lieutenant sped away in a flash of mana. I made my way to the carriage. I nod for Charles to get back into the driver's seat. I opened the coach door and chucked my sword in.

“Hey!! Watch out! You'll hurt someone with that thing!”

Peculiar…

I stepped into the carriage and a mysterious hooded figure sat with a nervous headmaid beside them.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Um, our liaison with horn matters.” said Beatrice

I sat down on the soft cushions. “The spy. So, you have matters to discuss.”

“Of course I bloody do, ya nearly made me faint with your sudden appearance. And then you ignore me-”

Beatrice muffled the stranger's mouth with her hand.

“Please excuse their poor manners!-”

“Ah. The receptionist.” I folded my arms. “Now it makes sense. Such detailed information had to have come from somewhere close.”

The stranger pulled Beatrice's hand from her mouth. “You didn't tell him about me?”

Beatrice looked away. “Had to keep him separate from such matters…”

I coughed. “Why are you here?”

The Spy pulled down her hood, revealing a woman a little older than the usual sex workers pimped by The Horn. Her long black hair,unfurled and picked something from her dark green cloak. “An update. I wanted you to see it from me." She handed me a rolled-up piece of parchment.

Educated and a go-getter...

I read through the list of names, which detailed their locations. A smile grew on my face that disturbed the women.

Phase one accomplished. Now I need a figurehead and it seems I am a lucky man.

“Well done, my lady. You shall be rewarded.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Your Grace,” Beatrice mumbled.

“Thank you, Your…Grace.” and with her hood back on she tried to exit.

“When did I say you could leave?”

The spy looked between me and the scowling Beatrice and sat back down.

“I haven't given you your reward yet.” I leaned forward and laced my fingers.

“You want better for yourself, right? You came over here to this cold wasteland from so far to fulfil some dream or you were taken away, sold to a rich slob.” The spy squirmed. “I see… Such a situation wouldn't suit you. It could not be your fate. I see it. Your eyes burn with fury. You wouldn't let anything cage you again. So by blood and sweat, you work your way up. But it is never enough. Every step up makes you realise your place in the world should be higher. Up, up, you go. But a ceiling blocked your way out. An outsider has a hard time in these parts. Your enemies have power beyond your understanding and your peers are as stuck as you are. Then Beatrice found you. How fortunate. Or well deserved.” She followed my every word.

“You have your way out. You can return to your lands with the gold we will give you. Start a new life. Make a family. Leave this treacherous life behind. But I must ask. Are you satisfied?”

Charles stopped the carriage near an alley and the spy left the vehicle.

“I can't wait to start working together, Beiye.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” She said. With excited eyes under her hood and she bowed deeply before disappearing.

“I quite like her.”

“Her personality makes her hard to work with but she is truly talented. Has a wide network, is personable, and is trusted by the workers. You have picked well, Your grace.”

Charles stepped off to close the door and I got his attention with a finger wag. “Come in, Charles.”

Confused, he bent down to enter the carriage, making it bounce.

“Beatrice, introduce him to everyone.”

“Surely you don't mean...”

“Yes. The more people under my purview know, the better.”

“As…you wish, Your Grace.”

“Good. Charles?”

“Umm?” he said, sitting straight.

“You will be working with Umbra from now on. Busy times are on the horizon and we need more hands.”

One last duty.

The sun set below the high buildings, casting the clear sky in orange. My carriage made one more stop by Mouve Square, where people gathered in the droves, carrying lit candles.

“See you in a bit.”

Out of the carriage without my blade, I joined the current of lights. I stuck out like a black hole in a sea of stars and deeper into the crowd I walked, the more I felt swallowed by the river of grief. Slowly, people turned their necks as I waded through. Faces change to fear, then surprise. They speak of my name, of a Hero. But there is no such hero here. Just a warrior trying to be a Duke. I reached the front of the crowd, ready to kneel in front of the vigil with laced fingers on my forehead.

Oh?

To my left, Vanessa kneeled, hands clasped together, praying. The soft orange light glowed on her round cheeks. Her hair shone like a golden amber in the firelight. Her eyes flutter open, surprised by my presence. Then a smile made the stressful day better.

Books crammed in dozens of shelves, touching the fifty-metre ceiling of the Greystone library. Many books and tomes containing the vast history of our great house—histories of this country's past and lands beyond filled the candle-lit reading space. As I walked through the aisles, I encountered an old geezer sitting by the tall moonlit window, reading a book I knew he didn't care for.

“Finally found you.”

"What do you mean ‘found you’?” Uncle Laron sputtered, putting his book down. “Why did you take so long?!”

“You know.” I shrugged. “Duties. Why did you ask me here?”

Uncle groaned from his chair. “Come with me.”

Down the long corridors of the castle, Uncle Laron regaled the many tales of his battles in the east. Many victories and some failures, my fist clenched as he told of soldiers starving in the cold with no word and little help from Osberg City, from the dowager duchess and from me.

Uncle stopped by an unassuming cupboard door and said, “We’re here. Take.” From his pocket, he gave me a rusty key and a clean one. “I should have given you this a very long time ago. I… had given up on you. Putting all my hope in your brother, I taught him to be the future patriarch. Spoiling him rotten, I left you alone. I thought you would be fine...” I saw his hand quake.

I embraced him, feeling tears falling from my eyes.

“I am sorry, nephew… I let you down…” I felt drops on my shoulders.

“It's okay. It's okay…” I felt a strange twinge in my heart. I never realised I-no, Tarion felt this kind of bitterness. However, it made me understand a little about the great hatred I experienced whenever I looked at my brother's face.

We parted and I saw my uncle's smile on his tearful face. "Lands above! You have grown strong! HAHAHA!” he said, patting my shoulder. The bitterness I shortly felt was washed away by the care I had for this cranky old man.

"Yeah, yeah, let's get this door open shall we.” after wiping my wet eyes on my doublet sleeve, I turned the clean key and several locks clicked. Dust puffed from the open door leading down.

“Go on. It's yours now.”

I stared into the dark stairway, hearing my uncle's footsteps down the corridor. With mana around my hand, lighting the spiral staircase, I descended. My last step took me to the opening of a large cave with sharp stalactites hanging high and a round training platform in the middle. I took a step and a ripple of light streamed through lines on the floor around the large room. One by one, crystals lit up revealing a large Obsidian slab on the wall with a large armour display. I crossed the platform to have a closer look at the hundreds of names etched in the black stone. Albert and Mary Greystone. I touched the engraving, feeling one more tear flow.

“Sorry, I am late. I have been working hard on restoring Osberg.” I felt my words stuck in my throat.

“Many of my people died because of my negligence. Every innocent soul—every husband, wife… child lost—feels like a mark on my soul. They were my duty and I let them down too many times to count.” I looked at the silver armour set in glass and rubbed the rusty key. “I will make it up to the city, to the duchy. I will blacken my soul and wet my sword with red so I will not see another vigil in those streets. I will cleanse Osberg and bring prosperity back to this land. I swear on our household for a thousand years. I shall not shame the name any further.”

With my hands together on my forehead, I pray. For Success. For help.

”Please watch over me from above. Mother, Father.”

I heard the footsteps of a skilled Umbra.

“Beatrice, we start tomorrow.”

 

17 days until the ball.