POV: Eunice/Roanne

I got out from the bed, walking sluggishly towards the vanity dresser, and sat down on the cushioned stool. The muscles of my right arm were aching after yesterday’s practice and I couldn’t get enough sleep because of it. I realised Roanne wasn’t the type of person to do workouts before I transmigrated into her body. I massaged my bicep and stared at my tired complexion in the mirror.

“I really have changed.”

Even if I remembered a lot from my earlier self as Eunice, I was slowly getting used to my new life as Roanne. I had changed the way I spoke to a more formal speech, and I had to keep up the act of being a noble. It was a life that I partially loathed because those petty changes weren’t enough to keep me from facing my demise. I would have to set my priorities straight and work twice as hard to stay alive. I already planned out what I needed to do.

Glancing at the white chest of drawers across the room, there was a secret compartment inside the chest that I immediately installed three days ago. There were a few centimetres of space between the drawers and the backboard of the chest that I could place four stoppers and a sheet of plywood in between. I hid all of my most crucial paperwork and the engagement ring inside that compartment.

Josephine knocked on the door, and I opened it for her. She had a white body towel and a bathrobe that hung around her arm.

“My lady, your hair and your face,” she stared at my scruffy bed hair and the dark circles under my eyes, “you look dreadful.”

“Thank you for the morning compliment,” I said with a jaded expression.

After a few seconds, she gasped and realised the insult she had unconsciously made. “I… I didn’t mean to say that, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Josephine,” I sighed with a droopy expression, “At least you can be honest with me. Do lead the way.”

She led me outside of the bedroom to the very end of the hallway where the lavish bathroom was. The room was like any other room in the manor, with its intricate ceiling cornices, moulded curlicues, vintage wallpapers, brown-hardwood flooring, and a fireplace. In the middle of the room was a copper bathtub facing a large golden mirror attached to the wall.

I took off my nightgown and dipped my body into the water of the bathtub. The calming floral essence of the lavender-scented candles filled the air of the room as I immersed myself in the warmth and steam of the bath. I was glad that cold showers in my small apartment back in Rydney were now a thing of the past.

I’d be more than happy if it stayed this way.

Josephine looked around the hallway before locking the door of the bathroom. She stood next to the tub and spoke in a quiet tone. “I’ve retrieved information about Cleo, my lady.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Just Cleo?”

“Ye-yes. Well… there was little information about Hursten,” she muttered. “I couldn’t get into his room because he mostly has it locked throughout the day. So, I asked some of the other servants about him. They said he has been working for Duke Bertrude for 22 years and that he used to live in the Duchy of Brugaria.”

“And how about Cleo? Was her room locked as well?”

“Cleo’s room is right next to mine, and it wasn’t locked.” Her eyes looked doleful. “I felt bad for looking through her stuff.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t do it. I’m paying you good money for this job-”

“I did! I did exactly what you told me to do.” She gave a sigh and said, “Cleo’s family is in debt. There were a few letters sent to her by her mother, saying that their lord would evict them from their home if they didn’t pay him back within a year.”

So she’s desperate?

A maid like Cleo wouldn’t dare to get involved directly in war and political matters unless she was desperate. Her task as a spy was too dangerous. And with all dangerous tasks, you’d risk your life to gain a big reward. I needed to know how much the reward was to clear her debt.

“Where does her family live?” I asked.

“They live in Dalland, a borough also in Brugaria.”

I pondered there for a few minutes before I washed myself thoroughly with goat’s milk soap. Josephine assisted me in washing my hair with some kind of olive oil shampoo. After going out of the bathtub, she helped me put on the bathrobe and we went back to the bedroom.

Brugaria was where most of my problems were coming from. There were so many reasons to go there, and Cleo’s family was just one of them.

I dried up myself up with a towel and was done fitting into my white wrapper dress. Josephine was about to go to the kitchen to serve me breakfast.

“Josephine,” I called out to her, and she stopped in front of the door. “I think I’ll have breakfast with my family this time.”

The dining hall was near to the east gallery of the manor. I passed the walls that hung every framed picture of the former and late dukes of the Imrora House, as well as their descended children. Duke Bertrude and his sister, Georgiana, were of the 7th generation in the family, with Roanne, her siblings and her cousins being the 8th generation of their lineage. All I’ve heard about Aunt Georgiana was that she had married a marquess and moved out of the Imrora estate to live with him in the far south of the empire.

I stopped in front of the two enormous doors of the dining hall before opening them to see Duke Bertrude, Fione, Therice and Sylphia gathering near the long dining table. Plates of scrambled eggs, ham, sausages, and toasted bread were in front of them. Their heads turned towards me and I jolted.

My sudden appearance mildly surprised Duke Bertrude as he stared at me with a fork and sausage up in the air. “Roanne!” He blinked a few times and then snapped his fingers at the maid who was standing near the windows. The maid organised a cleaned plate and some cutlery on the table's empty spot next to Therice.

“Come sit beside Therice,” Fione smiled. She spooned Sylphia’s food into her mouth, and Sylphia raised her hand and gave me a big cheeky grin.

“Big shishta!” she said with her mouth full.

“Hello, Sylphia,” I beamed.

“Are you feeling better now, dear?” Fione asked in a soothing tone.

“Yes, I’m feeling much better.”

I sat beside Therice, who was gobbling up his scrambled eggs and sausages.

“Where’s your manners, boy?” Duke Bertrude frowned at Therice, and Therice shrugged.

“You’re going to become the next duke, Therice,” said Fione. “You have to present yourself in a proper manner.”

“I know, ma,” Therice rolled his eyes. He gulped his food down and beckoned his hands towards me. I lowered my head, and he whispered in my ear, “if you want, I can give you the dukedom when I’m older.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but there’s a treaty we need to agree on.”

“And what would that be about?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Provide me an endless supply of meat,” he sneered. “Buy the whole meat market in the capital. Monopolise it if you will.”

This kid.

I clenched my jaw as I looked into his eyes that were glowing with excitement. “Why don’t you just monopolise it yourself when you become duke?”

“Of course, I can’t do that! The people will hate me and they’ll probably want to kill me.”

“Nevermind. You can take the dukedom,” I gave him a forced smile and cut the ham that was on my plate into smaller pieces. “I won’t be joining your treaty anytime soon.”

“But I hate working as a Duke,” he grumbled as he played around with his food, “I hate working in general.”

“That’s not my problem, is it now?”

Sylphia, who was still munching at her food, suddenly pointed an index finger at him and he became confused. Why was she pointing at him?

After a few seconds, his eyes widened as he came to a realisation. “No…” he shook his head towards her, and she nodded back. “No. No! Stop! Shh!”

“Sherishe played shoccer at Duke Gerald’sh party lasht week.”

“Therice,” Duke Bertrude said in a serious tone. “How many times have I told you not to bring your soccer ball to a party?”

Therice looked away from his mother and father’s intense gazes.

“I better not see that ball in the carriage when we head for the New Year banquet,” Fione warned him.

“Yay! Confiscating time!” Sylphia cheered.

“Will I need to confiscate it, Therice?” Fione asked.

“No!” Therice panicked. “I swear I won’t bring it to any more parties.”

“Good. I hope you can keep your words, young man,” said Fione, and Therice gulped.

“Oh! Speaking of the New Year banquet, have you all decided what attire you’ll be wearing for the event?” Duke Bertrude asked.

“I’ll just wear my usual formal outfit,” said Therice.

“Well, Sylphia and I are planning to buy new dresses at a draper’s boutique in Deliaway on Monday,” said Fione.

“I want to wear something pink with gems on it!” Sylphia boasted as she tugged at her mother’s dress.

“Roanne, how about you?” Duke Bertrude asked.

I quickly gulped down my food before answering. “Uh… I… I’m not very sure what to wear for the party,” I muttered, “but I can always wear whatever is in my wardrobe.”

Everyone stared at me for a while, which made my awkwardness become more apparent. It startled me when Duke Bertrude suddenly laughed.

“I never knew my daughter to be such an efficient person,” he beamed.

“What has got into you lately?” Therice ranted, “It’s very much customary for you to buy a new dress. You don’t want men to think you’re a frugal noblewoman, do you?”

I curled my upper lip to his remarks. Why are you complaining when you said you’d be wearing your usual attire of every party?

“Usually, you would request to wear the most glamorous ball gown for the New Year banquets,” he said. “You’d throw all your money in to winning a gown competition.”

“Therice, stop annoying your sister,” said Fione. “It’s her choice to wear whatever she wants. There’s no shame in being frugal.”

“Um… then… I’ll join you and Sylphia to the boutique,” I said.

Fione looked up from her food and asked, “are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ll go,” I grinned, “buying one dress would be enough for me.”

“Wonderful! I’ll help you choose the best gown suited for you,” she gave me a wink.

There was a knock on the door before a suited man with brown hair entered the dining hall. It was Stephan Herouge, Duke Bertrude’s personal assistant.

“Stephan!” Duke Bertrude wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and stood up from his chair.

Stephan bowed to us and walked to the duke’s side. “Your carriage is ready, Duke Bertrude.”

“Alright then,” the duke turned to his wife and kissed her. “That’s my call.”

“Where are you going?” Fione asked.

“I’m going to do the monthly inspection for the canal with Baron Marches.”

“You’ll be taking the carriage?” I asked the duke.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I was planning on heading to Felsaberg today.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry, Roanne, but-”

“It’s fine!” I chuckled. “You should go. Your matters are much more important.”

“Thank you for understanding, sweetheart,” he smiled softly.

“Bye, papa!” Sylphia waved her small hands to her father, and he waved back.

“Come back home soon,” said Fione.

As Stephan and Duke Bertrude walked side-by-side towards the doorway, I overheard a few words from Stephan in their quiet conversation. Duke Bertrude looked unhappy as he heard him say it. “The emperor has made his decision…”

They both exited from the room as the doors creaked and thudded to a close, leaving us in the dining hall to finish our breakfast.

Now that the only carriage in the estate was being used by the duke, I wasn’t sure what transport I could take to get to Felsaberg. I could have taken a hackney coach from Deliaway, but I didn’t know my way towards the town neither did I know my way inside it. Hackneys barely passed the Imrora’s estate as it was secluded on a hill, and the climb was probably not worth the Dranne for a coachman either.

“Why don’t you go to Felsaberg by horse instead?” Fione asked.

“Uh… Well…” I murmured. I wondered if Roanne knew how to ride horses, because I certainly didn’t. “I’m afraid of falling off the horse sometimes and… if the horse runs away after that.”

“Pfft!” Therice and Sylphia tittered as I tucked my arms in at the sides.

Yeah, laugh all you want at your imagination. That was the only valid truth I could think of.

“You should get Butler Hursten to accompany you,” said Therice.

“That’s right! Since the usual footman is out with your father, you can always rely on Hursten to guide you through the ride,” said Fione.

Out of all the other servants, it just had to be Hursten.

“Isn’t there anyone else that could accompany me there?” I asked with a hesitant voice and a bitter smile.

“Hmm... There's nobody that comes to my mind other than Hursten,” Fione said as she tilted her head and furrowed her eyebrows, “And I thought you were fine with him being by your side during outings. Has he been giving you trouble lately?”

My gaze was on Fione for a while before it wandered around the dining table. I tried to interpret her words a bit more.

Was Hursten close with Roanne?

Thinking back on the comic, there were several instances where I spotted the same background character whenever Roanne had appeared in a panel. No way… That can’t be him…

It was a butler, but his face wasn’t even drawn in the comic. He was beside her during the days when Roanne was still crown princess and was living in the palace.

“Roanne?” Fione’s voice broke my train of thought.

“No, he’s not giving me any trouble at all.”

Not yet, at least.

“Then, is it alright if I call him to get the horses ready? Whilst he does that, you can change out of your dress to something more appropriate for riding.”

“Yes… Yes, it’s fine. Thank you, mother.”

Since he was going to Felsaberg with me, there was a possibility that he would report my activities for espionage. And that meant I wouldn’t be able to go to the black market with Lerna.

I sighed and thought to myself, I'll have to go with plan B.