I reincarnated as the Duke from the North.

The next day.

 

The Duchess

Today was weapons training. Lining us up, Tarion gave us each a weapon he thought suited us. A rapier for my brother-in-law, who looked at his weapon disappointed. Double axes for Charles, for a forest dweller, seemed apt. A spear for Jen, easy to learn. And for me, a dagger. I asked Tarion the reason for his choice and he replied nonchalantly, “Easy to hide under a dress.” From there, he split us up for individual tutoring. My brother-in-law learned the movement quickly. Charles surprised Tarion with his light feet. Jen struggled as the pole was too heavy for her. Gave me a chuckle. The last was me. He held my forearm, his breath hot on my nape. He bent down low, resting his chest on my back and I felt his low velvet voice as he taught. His warm bear hand guided my blade slowly on a straw doll, showing me points to attack, such as the neck, the chest, the bowels, and the groin. He stressed stabbing the groin. “The dead won't need to worry about using it.” Then he left, leaving me unsated. My back felt empty and I missed his touch. I made mistakes and messed up my form, just for a moment more in his arms...

Tarion often gazed into the distance, in deep thought. I wondered what troubles plagued his mind. Can I ask? A contract bonded us but there was a barrier separating us. Should I pick a rock and shatter it or wait for him to break it down himself?

With extended training done and drenched in sweat, I walked to a bath the maids had arranged for me and a sore sight came down the corridor. For weeks after the store incident, she evaded me at every chance. Free of her insults, I almost forgot she was still sulking about in the castle. She froze and then continued down the corridor with her chin held high. There is only one reason she would go down here. The Dowager. The former duchess, hiding in her room. How far she had fallen from her former prideful self. Only the maids and brother-in-law entered her room as of late. Tarion would sometimes come to the far corner of the castle to peek, always leaving with a small smile on his face.

Curiosity got the better of me and I asked. “When will you leave.?”

“Excuse me?-”

“My mother is safe and out of reach. I won't abide by my father's instructions. So why are you still here? To monitor me?”

My sister pursed her lips.

“I see. Then tell him in your report, ‘Your strings have been cut.’”

“He will get tired of you one day and throw you out just like my father did to your bitch of mother! Maybe he will toss you in one of those brothels to die like your mother deserved!”

A circle turned around my heart and a strange energy flowed from me. All the anger that has been building for years leaked out in flumes of blue. I remembered the dagger hidden on my leg.

Coraline stepped back, trembling. “How…”

“Vanessa!” Jen ran to me, huffing. “Unrest in the streets of Mouve." Hands on knees she huffed."By a new gang led by the one they call the Madam.”

My anger settled. I looked at my quivering sister, imagining how I could have been scared of this garish, simple-minded woman.

“Thank the lands above there are more pressing issues than you.”

 

3 days later.

 

The Duke

In the dark at night, my two fingers spread dark makeup on my pale moonlight skin. I pulled a hood over my hair, tied in a bun. I settled into a nostalgic feeling—the jitters before the start of the mission, the tension that weighed me down, the silence that left me alone with my worst thoughts. I checked the short double-edge blade on my back and two daggers on the waist.

I addressed my shadows dressed in black as I am. “Five to ten, lookout. Beatrice and the rest, with me.” My pendant jingled as I picked a see-through black cloth from my dark doublet pocket. I tied it around my eyes and allotted points to senses.

“Let's move.”

I jumped off a ledge of a building four stories high, flipping with heightened grace on top of a lower roof. Umbra footwork softened my fall with mana on my soles. My steps, quieter than the night breeze, I ran across the rooftops, followed by five others.

“To your positions.” And like that, my shadows spread out, with Beatrice stalking behind in her Umbra gear.

I looked at my pocket watch. Twenty-two hundred hours. A balcony door opened. I took a silent leap from roof to balustrade, and a robed lady met us by the open balcony door.

“Kill them painfully.”

I entered the room and a drowsy, pudgy man of wealth sat up on his bed.

“I will try,” I replied.

The man noticed me. "What is the meaning of this-”

I grabbed his neck, lifting him so his legs dangled. His robe slipped off in his struggle.

“Ah. Poor girl.”

The pig turned purple in my hands and take my left dagger out with my right hand.

“We need a trademark.”

“Get your damn hands off meAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

Blood gushed on the floor as my knife hacked at his family pebbles.

“Is this painful enough?” her eyes said no.

The pig's squealing was muted as I choked the neck and I dug my knife from the collar to his bloated belly button.

Senses heard bodyguards move behind the door. Firsts and some seconds I can tell, from their speed. I would've been surprised if a third was in this building. Upper circles required more coins.

The room door flung open. I threw the dying pig to the left on his bed while my dagger made it to a guard's temple. Flopping back into the candle-lit corridor with a dagger between the guard's nose, I rushed with a punch, pushing the dagger more until a head exploded and the weapon hit a wall.

“You bastard!!” A second guard slashed down and a second dagger from my side blocked. Sparks flew as I redirected the sword with my left hand to my five o'clock. I twisted, crushing organs with a mana-infused kick. I stabbed the back of the head for good measure and I retrieved my dagger from the wall.

Dagger arts created (lv.7)

 

Shit. I should have brushed up on it. But it should be good enough for second circles.

My heightened senses do not hear any more guards on their way and walk down the corridor to our next targets.

“Beatrice, go right. I will go left.” a nod from her and we go our separate ways.

The doors clicked and were left ajar. One by one I enter and leave with my blade bloody. A john came up the stairs after my fifth door and froze at the sight of me. "Ra...RAVENS!!!"

Run.

And he did with haste.

Bring more.

And more came. I heard my headmaid cause chaos elsewhere and readied myself. My hue under control, I flipped my blades into a reverse grip and slid under swiping, cutting into a stomach. I stopped a downward strike before it finished its arc with my left., flipped my right blade, stabbing the horn’s man three times before pushing him aside. A stab to my chest from the first was parried to my left. I stepped inward and jabbed right in the guard's trachea. I pulled the dying to the right and blocked a blade from a second circke with my left. Sword and blade grind and I let his power win. Off balance, his face fell into my dagger’s edge. Mana coated the black weapon, slicing through. First and second circles hesitate.

Run.

And they did. I take my time down the steps.

They can't excape.

Braver men came forth wanting to test their mettle. Ievaded swords moving in slow motion. Two daggers pierced two guts and kept descending. The smell of iron was strong downstairs as well. Familiar clangs resonate through these soiled halls. My senses heard harder clings and I sprinted. A john at the brothel foyer. A wild-haired mercenary who likes his women young. The third circle batted my headmaid into the wall.

“Look here, ugly. Your death has come.”

Like an animal, his ear perked up. He saw me and went into a beastly rage. “RAAARGH!” The mercenary ran at me with his axe up high. I stepped to the side and let his weapon break the wooden floor. With my short sword unsheathed from my back, I thrust, and mana shot out. The mercenary screamed and held his bloody shoulder. I jabbed. His knee exploded and he kneeled. I stabbed and twisted. My mana shield blocked the rain of blood from his ruptured eye. I cut, leaving a trademark.

“One. Are you well?” said I, ignoring the mercenary in anguish. A mana armoured stamp ended the noise.

Beatrice slowly stood up, holding her sore back. “Well enough, Zero.”

I nodded. I listened again. No whistle.

Four other shadows appeared with dark clothes bloody. One umbra carried the head of the john that ran away and rolled a her trophy to me.

"It is done."

Another success.

13 days untill the ball.