Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess

Scarlett and Rosa walked along a well-worn dirt path cutting through a wide forest clearing. The bard’s fingers cranked away at the klert Scarlett had gifted her, its melodious twangs mingling with Rosa’s cheerful humming. As they neared the outskirts of Freymeadow, the quaint village came further into view, its low stone walls offering meager protection against its surroundings.

Rosa’s tune trailed off as the woman’s eyes swept over the cluster of buildings ahead. “You know,” she mused, her tone deceptively casual, “I’ll admit that with the empire in such a mess right now, I half-expected we’d be giving this place a wide berth for a while.”

Scarlett remained a stoic expression as they crossed the threshold into the village, her gaze meeting the curious, albeit wary, stares of the villagers. “It would be imprudent to neglect the advantage this place offers, regardless of the current circumstances,” she replied in a measured voice.

A wry smile played on Rosa’s lips. “Can’t fault that logic, I suppose. I don’t have to bet my last copper coin that relaxation isn’t on your agenda today, at least. You couldn’t sell me that lie even if you had a dragon’s silver tongue and a wizard’s charm.”

Scarlett arched a brow, casting a sidelong glance at her companion. “I fail to see the relevance of a dragon’s tongue in this context. They are not particularly renowned for their eloquence.”

At least not in this world.

The bard just shrugged, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “Sometimes things just sound good, alright? Cut me some slack. I don’t pick apart every outlandish statement you make.”

“Are you implying the two of us are comparable in any way?”

Rosa’s smile faltered for a moment. “…I’m walking into a trap no matter how I answer that, aren’t I?”

“Perhaps.” Scarlett faced forward as they continued their trek through the village. “I wonder why it is that you cannot exercise such verbal caution and tact when we are in the company of others.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m plenty tactful around other people,” Rosa said. “I just can’t always restrain myself from extolling your numerous virtues at times.”

“I am sure,” Scarlett responded dryly.

Their conversation died down as Rosa began enthusiastically waving her lively hellos to some of the villagers and children they passed. Meanwhile, Scarlett retreated into her thoughts, her mind dwelling on the current state of affairs in Freybrook.

Though she had justified their visit here to Rosa as a pragmatic decision, Scarlett also knew that finding time for these excursions would become increasingly difficult. The journey alone consumed half a day, and this very morning, her mansion had been flooded with a deluge of correspondence on various matters.

Some missives were official notices pertaining to her barony and status as a baroness, which she assumed most nobles were receiving in some form at the moment. Others were inquiries from acquaintances of Lady Withersworth, who had somehow already caught wind of the woman’s involvement in Scarlett’s affairs. Additionally, there was no shortage of merchants and groups clamoring for Scarlett’s attention after having heard of the substantial cache of goods and resources the Hartford barony had prepared, wanting to buy it off her. Whether through ignorance or indifference, they seemed oblivious to the fact that much of these supplies had already been earmarked for the empire-wide relief efforts.

While Scarlett could dismiss the majority of these matters, even going as far as to personally incinerate countless letters after a cursory glance, others represented genuine opportunities that warranted consideration. Lady Withersworth had pledged her assistance with handling those, but some issues would inevitably require Scarlett’s direct involvement.

Recent days had also seen Scarlett engaged in even more discussions with Beldon, plotting and strategising how to counter the ongoing attacks against the empire. Though Scarlett technically wasn’t part of Mirage or its operations, at some point, an unspoken sort of agreement had formed between her and Beldon to cooperate on this matter. Consequently, she’d been focusing a lot on how to leverage her knowledge and Beldon’s resources to thwart the Cabal’s objectives while carefully avoiding anything that would count as a direct confrontation.

Their current plans revolved around preparing for future attacks, investigating suspicious activity among the empire’s aristocracy, and identifying probable targets. Beldon and Mirage as a whole stood to gain significant influence and resources by offering aid to various imperial factions on these issues, so Scarlett was also making sure how she could turn that to her advantage.

As the sun reached its zenith, Scarlett and Rosa arrived at Freymeadow’s central square. On the far side, sheltered from the summer heat, Arlene reclined on her porch, engrossed in a book as usual.

Upon their approach, the raven-haired woman looked up, faint creases appearing beneath her pale green eyes as they narrowed slightly. “You’ve returned,” she stated, closing her book with a soft thud.

“Indeed we have,” Scarlett replied.

Rosa, unable to resist, chimed in with a grin. “Did you miss us? Pine for some dazzling presences and sparkling conversations, perhaps?”

“Actually, I was rather relishing the calm,” Arlene said, her gaze staying on Scarlett, particularly on her left wrist.

Scarlett glanced down, her attention falling on the [Orrery of Dissonant Convergence] encircling her wrist. Was the woman studying that?

Before she could confirm her suspicion, Arlene rose and stepped off the porch. A volley of menacing fire arrows appeared just behind her, the temperature rising around them.

“Let’s proceed directly to the lesson, then,” she declared. Scarlett suppressed a sigh as Rosa swiftly abandoned her, retreating with a far-too-amused grin plastered across her face.

Straight to business it was.

 

 

As the day waned, Scarlett and Arlene found themselves seated on the porch, gazing out across the square. They were taking an extended break after several grueling training sessions. At the square’s heart, Rosa perched on the edge of the wooden platform there, her legs swaying in rhythm as she coaxed more melodies from her klert. Overhead, wisps of black and violet danced in perfect sync with the faint music, like enchanted phantoms.

The village children gathered before her, their eyes wide with wonder. They gasped in awe or squealed in delight whenever the wisps swooped down close, eliciting peals of laughter from their peers.

“That retainer of yours is more dedicated than appearances would have one think,” Arlene observed, her tone offhanded as she focused on the book in her lap.

Scarlett’s gaze flickered to the woman before returning to the spectacle of Rosa entertaining the children.

“…Indeed,” she said.

Even though it looked like Rosa was merely indulging in frivolous activities, the bard was also honing her skills in her own unique way. Rosa had become remarkably adept at wielding the Soulstone’s power for these harmless displays. However, Scarlett knew that the woman was still hesitant to employ it in more serious situations. She had yet to have an opportunity where she could truly let loose and see what her charms could do against a genuine enemy.

“Perhaps she’s adopted some of her employer’s traits,” Arlene continued with a light chuckle. “I must admit, I’m still surprised you didn’t abandon your training after my first lesson. While stubbornness can be a valuable asset, you should be careful not to let it lead you astray.”

“I shall remain mindful of that,” Scarlett replied evenly.

“That advice extends to Miss Hale as well.”

“Influencing her in that regard may prove more challenging.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so certain. Despite your frequent bickering, I suspect there’s little she wouldn’t do if you were to ask it of her.”

Scarlett’s gaze lingered on Rosa, who wore a radiant smile as one of the children tumbled backward when a wisp darted past them.

“…It is true that Miss Hale places considerable trust in me,” Scarlett admitted. “I believe she feels she has much to atone for, both in her actions and her character.”

“Certainly, I can understand that sentiment.” Arlene nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Regret and self-doubt can be powerful motivators.”

Scarlett turned, studying the older woman intently. She supposed Arlene would know that better than most.

The atmosphere shifted, a quiet settling between them as Arlene seemed to refocus on her book, its pages just out of Scarlett’s line of sight.

Scarlett’s eyes remained on the woman for a moment longer before dropping temporarily to the Orrery encircling her own wrist.

Earlier, she had attempted to gauge the artifact’s reaction to Arlene and was surprised to find it responded almost as intensely as it did with Rosa. At first, this had given her pause, but upon reflection, it seemed reasonable given the extent of her interactions with Arlene and how much had changed from the game’s original narrative. Though trapped in this endless loop, the Arlene before her behaved very differently from the one Scarlett knew in the game.

This did make her wonder if the woman’s ultimate fate could also be changed.

Lost in thought, Scarlett wasn’t prepared for Arlene to suddenly look up, meeting her gaze directly. “You’ve been observing me quite intently today, I’ve noticed. Is there something on your mind?”

Scarlett hesitated, noting how Arlene’s eyes briefly flicked to her left wrist, narrowing at the Orrery.

For a moment, Scarlett paused. She’d been curious whether the woman would notice the artifact on her own. Had she?

“Is that a new ring, perhaps?” Arlene suddenly asked.

Scarlett blinked, her attention shifting from the Orrery to the [Hartford Garnet Ring] on her middle finger. Was that what had caught the woman’s eye?

She remained silent for a few seconds. “…It is, yes. A family heirloom passed down through the Hartford line for generations.”

“Is that so?” Arlene nodded earnestly.

“Unfortunately, I do not know how to use or activate it,” Scarlett said. She had experimented with it back in Freybrook, but with little success.

After watching Arlene for a moment, she asked, “Might you have any insights?”

Arlene continued studying the ring, her expression neutral. “I’m no wizard and far from an expert on artifice of this nature, but it appears to be imbued with some form of pyromantic enchantment. Rather fitting for you, don’t you think? As for its use, it’s not uncommon for noble families to possess artifacts that only certain members can activate. They often require a passphrase or something similar.”

“A passphrase? I see. How might I discover it?”

The woman shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. “How could I possibly know that? It would defeat the purpose, no? If there is a passphrase, you’ll have to ask whoever created the ring or those to whom it was passed down.” She looked up at Scarlett, considering her silently for a moment. “Did the previous holder never share it with you?”

“…They did not.”

Even if they had, Scarlett wouldn’t have remembered it.

Arlene’s gaze remained fixed on her, though Scarlett couldn’t tell what the woman was thinking.

“Are there no records or family members you could consult?” Arlene eventually asked.

Scarlett’s lips tightened almost imperceptibly. “…It is possible that my sister might know.”

“Then why not ask her?”

“I am not certain that is an option. Our relationship is…complex.”

“You don’t think she’d help?”

Scarlett’s fists clenched, knuckles whitening slightly. “I believe she likely would. The issue lies not in her willingness to help but in my ability to bring myself to ask.”

One of Arlene’s eyebrows lifted as the woman gave her a long, almost admonishing look. “Didn’t I just warn you about being stubborn?”

“It is not by choice that I am this inflexible,” Scarlett replied, the words difficult to voice.

Arlene’s brow furrowed, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. After a prolonged silence, however, she sighed, her expression relaxing. “Look at me, posturing as if I’m some authority simply because I’ve imparted on you a lesson or two. My relationship with my own sister was far from ideal. While it never deteriorated to the point where I loathed the mere thought of seeking her aid.”

The older woman turned her gaze across the square, absently brushing a wayward lock of black hair from her cheek. “But perhaps it might have felt that way to her,” she added, a note of wistfulness in her voice.

Scarlett observed her quietly. She knew from Arlene’s sister’s journal that Arlene had been strongly disliked by her sister when they were young. That said, she didn’t get the sense that Arlene’s sister hated her the same way the original Scarlett did Evelyne.

“…Do you resent your sister?” she found the question leaving her lips.

A flicker of surprise crossed Arlene’s features as she met Scarlett’s eyes. “…I don’t, no. We’ve had our share of conflicts—some quite serious—so I can’t claim to like her, but I’ve never truly resented her.”

“Why not?”

Arlene paused before responding. “…Because she is family, I suppose.”

“And what if she did not reciprocate those feelings?”

“Oh, she most definitely did not.” A self-deprecating laugh escaped the woman. “That makes me the fool here, I suppose. But I never let that stand in my way. In a sense, I always pitied that aspect of her.”

Scarlett kept studying Arlene for a while. Could that be similar to how Evelyne felt?

“Do you want your sister to hate you?” Arlene asked, a curious look in her eyes.

Scarlett considered the question. “…It would complicate matters if she did.”

“I would think so, but that’s hardly an answer, is it?”

Scarlett frowned. “Then I do not know.”

A slight smirk appeared on Arlene’s lips. “The simple answer would have been ‘no’.”

“You did not ask me merely for me to lie.”

“Nor did I ask for you to avoid lying,” Arlene said, tapping the book on her lap thoughtfully while observing Scarlett. “You seem like someone who struggles to sympathise with others. Is that right?”

“Partly. At the very least, it is not incorrect,” Scarlett replied slowly, trying to figure out what the woman was getting at.

“Have you considered why?”

“…It is simply part of who I am.”

“And why is that?”

“Are you asking that because you expect a definitive answer?”

Arlene shook her head. “I’m asking out of curiosity, perhaps because you remind me of my own sister. I know you’re capable of self-reflection, so why do you think you are the way you are? What events in your past do you believe contributed to it?”

Scarlett’s frown deepened. As Scarlett, she couldn’t answer because she didn’t know her past. As Amy, she couldn’t answer because she wasn’t even sure how much of her current self was Amy and how much was Scarlett.

Arlene’s smile turned gentler. “You can consider this the idle musings of a nosy teacher, but I suggest not dwelling on these things until you can answer those questions.”

“And what if they prove unanswerable?” Scarlett asked sharply.

The woman’s smile broadened. “Then you create the answers. As my student, I’m confident you can do that much.”