Weak torches gloat as I follow the fat man. Stairs creak with every step, making me conscious of my weight, while the vapid cheering from downstairs leak through the gaps in the masonry. My hound stalks closely behind. He was the one to insist, but it did not make me happy. On the contrary, having him here is an annoyance and diminishes my presence.

Before this, he left with that guard. I’m not sure where they went, but I hope he won’t cause any trouble. The case in the city already was a disaster, though it seems people of the castle did not care about the events that happened there. They didn’t even notice the missing guards who were burned to char… what frightening magic.

It didn’t take long for us to reach the private room the Duke wished to speak in. The door was dark, withered and had a glistening keyhole. Mythril?

“Wait here,” I say. The hound nods but visibly shows frustration, bearing his teeth as fit his name. Who would’ve thought that he was the knight of this man… Damned undead and his damned plans.

The Duke opens the door and I am let inside. A grand desk stands ahead of me, oddly reminiscent of the one belonging to the already deceased, may something bless his soul, Josset Gide. I only hope that this man is not as dumb to think he can control me.

Lots of boxes and paperwork are stacked around and on the desk. The dustiest corner of the room with all the books in the bookshelves stands firm as it soaks up rare sunlight and moisture. These rays reach my eyes as well as I look out of the small window. A round, yellowish-red sun creeps through the clouds as it slowly descends behind the horizon. Not much light is left.

I used to watch this very same sun eighty years ago, give or take. Every. Single. Day. Back then I was just a naïve girl stuck in the Germinary with other children of my age and the sun became magical in my tiny world. What an old, but clear memory it is… Wish I was never sent there. I could’ve lived on my own without magic, I’m sure I would’ve managed. Weird how after all this time the view never changed, even when I’m so far from that place…

As I recall the foolish past, the door closes behind me with a loud crash, shaking me to the present.

“Let us speak. Face to face,” says Viktor as he walks behind the table, barely fitting his gut in between the wall and the sharp edge. The wooden chair creaks as he takes seat and indicates for me to sit in front of him as well. I sit down, feeling the dress tighten around my body. That undead could’ve given something my size at least.

The old man stares at me intently, as if I am some kind of rare animal or exposition, and speaks.

“What do you want?”

I don’t want anything. It was that undead whom forced me to do this… That demon plays not only with his life, if you can call it like that, but also mine.

Me becoming the heir of this buffoon? Why? At one point I believed that he had learned and was finally cautious of the dangers, but I was wrong.

“Recognition,” I state. That’s what that devil wants, right? “I am of your blood and don’t want to be kept in the shadows.”

Viktor sighs as the sternness drains from his face. The terms are ludicrous. All I have is a name and a fake background, while he has the power of a noble. My word against his is the same as any other peasant’s.

“Look…” He crosses his fingers, the muddy eyes stuck on the gleaming stone encased in gold. Is he thinking of how to get rid of me?

After the long contemplation he continues in a direction I did not expect.

“How is she?”

“If you mean my mother, then she’s dead.”

His eyes widen for but a split second before returning to their usual position. Uninterested, stern and tired, they look at something beyond the eyes of a normal person once again.

Esther, the woman the undead chose as my fake mother, disappeared a long time ago. For all I know she might be alive, humans tended to kick about when their death was expected, but saying that she was dead was beneficial for me. First, I must break his will – he’s already mourning, I can feel it – then his soul. What does a man like him treasure the most?

“I… am sorry,” he bows slightly, but I don’t buy his words. To stay a noble one must know manipulation and be able to control one’s emotions.

“Don’t be. I understand your circumstances.” I feel around the blade on my leg, if he starts anything I will be ready. “It was probably a one-night stand anyway.”

“No!” He slams the table. Papers fall from it, catching the air, and slowly drift across the room. His face is on the verge of tears as snot drips down his moustache and onto the beard. “I loved your mother, she was my life! But… but I was married. I couldn’t do anything!” He broke so easily. “Then she left. Where did she go? What happened to her and you? How did she die? Why did she leave me?!” More papers fall as his hand begins to tremble from smacking against the hardened wood.

“If you really loved her, you wouldn’t have tried to kill me. Was I alone, I would be rolling around on the street as your men play with my body.” I squeeze out a tear, adding a bit of texture to the mix. “Just like mother, I would be the plaything of bastards as my life is spent!”

Soon he begins to cry as well. How dumb must we look, sitting here and crying like idiots. It lasts for a long time, though I stop sooner seeing that he’s already a wreck. He continues speaking about Esther, how he loved her and how often wanted to escape with her. I, on the other hand, can’t stop thinking about that demon and his cursed luck. To have made this far with this farce, he must be blessed by some wicked deity of fortune to have chosen precisely that woman. Had it been any other name, my head would be resting on a spike right now.

In the end, he doesn’t promise me anything, but I know he won’t try to kill me just for now. His heart is weak and his mind is giving way. The face of his is that of a ruined person, completely broken as his emotions spill out like that of water from a dam. Sensing a chance, I channel magic with all my power, even the window begins to rattle, thankfully he’s too invested in the moment to notice, and go for his mind.

Nothing happens.

“I’m sorry for such a sight.” He sniffles and wipes his nose with the sleeve of the noble attire. “Quite pathetic of a Duke… and a father.”

He bought my words and I fooled him, or is it an act? The spell was canceled and didn’t work. I know it didn’t. Does he have the Holy Mark on him? I can’t see it, maybe it’s some other magic item? I should say something. The silence is too obvious.

“Even if you see me as your daughter, don’t expect my forgiveness.” I must play the part, no sane person would up and forgive the geezer for a few tears. It’s annoying how the moment does not allow me to pester him for my ‘rights’. Damn. “The things I’ve went through cannot be forgotten. I’ve lived in alleys and slums.” Might as well make him regret even more. “Every night I dream of my mother and her final moments. Just like her, I was so close to selling myself just for a loaf of bread. Ev-”

“That’s enough,” he puts his arm on my mouth. It’s sweaty, rough, and reeks of wine. His worn-out eyes redden once more as he nods and strains his mouth, as if something was stuck in his throat. “I’ve heard enough. Don’t torment me with those words.”

I nod. Given the situation I should be happy to be alive. Though… what will happen once he hears of this?

After a long pause, which probably seemed akin to a father-daughter moment, the old Duke speaks again.

“The thing about… recognition, you called it. I’m afraid nothing can be done.” His eyes wander under the table. “I have a reputation to keep. If a word of this came out… I don’t know what would happen. I’d be shamed, my children – your siblings – would despise me. The court would lose their trust of me. I’d become the laughing stock of the world. My power would sink and…” His throat gurgles as he prepares to utter the words. “I’d be forced to get rid of you.”

His eyes, albeit tired and dull, were resolute. How… inconvenient, for the undead. I don’t care if it works out. What matters is my life in the end. Got to keep the act up.

“My mother… She lived in shame for years. Have you ever seen how people look at a woman with a fatherless child? How dare you speak of reputation and trust when my mother had to suffer through all of that?!” I jump up in full act. His mouth is agape in hope of letting out some sound that made sense. He can’t. Not now. “My sister and brother… At least they must know.” Once they do, that’ll be half the job done. I doubt some children would doom me once they hear of this.

He sat still as his hands sunk into his oily hair. He’s cornered with nowhere left to run. Too much emotional investment to do so right now. In his eyes I’m already his blood. How foolish humans become…

Standing straight and firm, I stare down on him. Like a beaten mutt he avoids my gaze, looking down or sideways. This is how men are, they hide their fears behind the guise of bravery, the dumber one’s at least. When the true colors are revealed they’re no more than frightened dogs.

Seeing that I won’t give up, he shuffles in the seat, as if preparing for the inevitable. Whether it’s rejecting me completely or accepting me, either one is fine. His lips twitch and my eyes moisten as I prepare to cry. All that’s left is to see if it’s out of sadness or happiness.

When he’s about to speak, a sudden knock staggers us both. Curse my luck. He rocks back in the chair, as if saved by some being from the heart wretching moment, and my leverage crumbles.

“Come in,” he shouts, drying his face with the already damp sleeve.

The door opens and a guard peeks out. I can’t see his face; the helmet covers it. Rene, like a curious pup, also takes the chance to peek inside. How dumb he looks, so happy just to catch my sight. The way he grins is so over the top even the dried dirt crumbles from tension.

“Ma’am,” the guard slightly bows. “My liege, Count Anworth is here to meet you.”

Count… ah. Is it his son? How lucky. I can still deal with this.

“What is he doing here…” Mutters the Duke, but I hear him perfectly. Is it an unexpected visit? “Tell him to wait for me in the hall.”

“Yes, my Lie-”

The guard is cut off as an incomprehensible shout echoes from beyond the doorway. Wood creaks as someone runs up the stairs with a metallic clank. Soon the guard is rudely pushed aside and an armored man barges inside. He has a full plate suit and even a sword still dangles from his hip. A dumb smile lingers beyond the raised visor.

“Father!”

Is this the son? He looks about twenty, too young considering the state of Victor…

“God damn it, Levi! What are you doing here?”

“It was too boring travelling with the troops, father. Seeing that there were no problems I split from them halfway to Rie and travelled up the countryside for a bit. How interesting it is when I enter a town and all the churls run out with their children. ‘Bless my child to be as great as you’ they say!” He begins laughing like a pig. I can’t help but feel amused seeing a dead man so cheerful. “Anyway, who’s this fair beauty? Had I known you were having such a guest I wouldn’t have left!” His hungry eyes stared me up and down, how impressive that he managed to hide such lust and wickedness without the visor.

After a glance at the Duke – his face twitches as it begs for me to not do anything rash – I smile and raise my chin high. I walk up to Levi, on purpose showing off my curves, which he licks up like a hungry wolf, and slightly bend down, showing off what he wants to see. A simple-minded fellow and an easy piece to use. Just a push and he will topple like a pile of rocks.

“Welcome,” I can’t stop myself from smiling. “Brother.”

His face drops immediately as his lust is put out like a candle. Behind me I can feel the Duke stir, probably trying to maneuver around the table, while the son’s eyes no longer look at me. They glare past my shoulder, the eye’s popping like a spring flower, in both suspicion and loathing.

Maybe this trip will be more amusing than I thought.