Beyeth had to forcefully stop herself from skipping to the carriage. She had a wonderful day with a wonderful boy in his wonderful castle… it was… just so perfect. The Young Master had looked her in the eyes while he spoke encouraging words to her, even as she kept running or falling into fires during their ‘encounters’. His game was strange… but also really exciting! Beyeth could not wait to get home and tell her dolls all about her day. It was just magical.

Without prompt, when the group reached the carriages Bayeth broke off from her mother and sister and headed towards the cheapest, shabbiest looking of the carriages, tucked neatly in the back and out of sight. Before she could get more than five steps away, however, her body suddenly went rigid as she heard the voice of her mother calling her name. Her name! Bayeth had not heard her mother call her anything other than ‘you’ for years. That could only mean one thing… she was in far more trouble than would be socially allowable around witnesses.

She could not figure it out. Cynthia was the one who earned the Young Master’s ire, not her! She got to spend a glorious afternoon being called casually by her name, and being forced to casually return the favor by the boy that got away… As far as Beyeth was concerned, she did precisely what was expected of a Young Miss of a noble House. She was allowed into the intimate inner circle of one of the hottest bachelors in the Kingdom through her grace and… yeah… she was kind of treated like a lost puppy. But that did not matter! Bayeth did not do anything to be punished over!

“Silly girl… Bayeth dear, why are you heading towards ‘her’ carriage? You are to ride up here with me, as would be proper.” Bayeth’s mother said, her severe, sharp gaze directed into Bayeth’s eyes. Bayeth was once again confused… her mother had not made eye contact with her in those same years.

Today… I guess… is the day I die. It… was a good one to end with. Bayeth thought without irony. She had not done something to bring shame to the Quoro family, but it would not change the fact that nothing about this situation boded well for her wellbeing. When Ehreese Quoro became truly displeased by someone… they simply disappeared like uncle Bartrum.

Maybe I should run back into the Keep and beg for asylum? … no… It would not do me any good. Assuming I even managed to make it to the Keep… the Forrester’s would give me over to my parents to avoid any political unpleasantness. It is not like I have any value to anyone…

“You! Get out of my sight!” Ehreese said with scorn. Beyeth perked up slightly and started heading back towards her carriage. That was the treatment she usually got, and it felt comforting in its familiarity.

“Beyeth, dear, I already told you to come get in my carriage. You know that I do not like to repeat myself.” Beyeth was passed by her younger sister on the way to her carriage, her shoulders shaking with pitiful sobs. Once again, Beyeth could not make sense of what was happening.

One of the Quoro house knights sighed and hit her foot with the butt of her spear, then looked meaningful towards the carriage her mother was currently entering.

“She was speaking to you, Young Miss. Get going before the Lady gets angry.” The knight said with authority.

Beyeth stumbled in a daze towards the carriage. She had never been allowed to ride with her mother… what exactly was going on?

“Idiot girl.” The knight said rather loudly. There was no reason for him to say it quietly, after all. Beyeth did not have, nor would she ever possess, the authority to do anything about it. For some reason, the knight’s rudeness brought Beyeth back into familiar territory and she was able to move steadily to the carriage before boarding it. The knight then shut the door and rapped the wooden paneled side with his knuckle to let the coachman know to drive.

“Well, it appears the useless daughter has finally done something worthwhile. I admit, I had doubts that waste of a daughter would be able to charm the boy again. It was fortuitous indeed that you managed to rope him in so thoroughly. Did I hear you call him by his first name? Ha! An idiot girl for an idiot boy.” Ehreese said haughtily, her every word caused Beyeth to sink lower into the luxurious cushion. Her usual carriage didn’t have cushions, so it was a little hard to get comfortable.

“How did you do it anyway? Nevermind, I do not care. It does not really matter. His Majesty the King will force that slut to produce another heir and bury the obnoxious brat like he should.”

Beyeth opened her mouth to refute her mother’s words, but her mother just put her hand up to silence Beyeth before she had the chance to.

“I have grown tired of your voice. Do not speak again unless commanded to respond.”

I have not said a word to you!

But Beyeth was not angry. She felt pity for her sister, if nothing else. For whatever reason… Beyeth was now the favorite. That means the horrible treatment she had been facing alone for the past few years… the isolation, the neglect, the blatant disrespect… it was Cynthia’s turn. Beyeth felt conflicted on that, as she still loved her sister, even if she had gone along with everything their parents had done to Beyeth since her proposed engagement.

Well, I guess I will not be going the way of uncle Bartrum today after all.

* * * *

A priceless vase gifted to Patricia by His Majesty the King was unceremoniously chucked into the wall of her office with a resounding crash. Before the pieces could hit the ground, the room filled with an aura of dread and malice and the pieces ceased to be.

You idiot! Patricia! What are you doing!? Stop using your powers on your son! He will figure it out again, and he will hate you for it! Ahh!

The Lady Forrester gripped her head in her hands and slammed her elbows down onto her desk. Where her elbows hit there were two splintered indentions in the magically treated wood. She rocked back in forth with anxiety before starting to sob uncontrollably.

She gave herself a few minutes to cry before forcing herself to calm with a pulse of positivity. She straightened up and started drafting a letter to the Lord Quoro, explaining that Syron was officially taking the Young Miss Cynthia’s name off of his list of potential spousal candidates. The Lady might hate herself sometimes, but it did not change the fact that she tended to get the results she wanted. With a forced smile, she signed the document, duplicated its contents with an enchanted slab, and sealed them with her personalized ward. The ward was easy to break for a powerful magic user like Frederick Quoro… but once it was, the document could not be warded again. Even that trashy excuse of a noble Ehreese could not throw a tantrum if her son had decided to remove that foul girl from his betrothal list. As long as the King kept dragging his feet on forcing Patricia to disinherit Syron, she was going to let him say or do whatever he wanted as the rightful, future Grand Duke. Perhaps at the time Syron is forced to give up the name Forrester, as another show of contrition, Patricia would also give up her name herself and let the King deal with the fallout. He can not stop her. The so-called “Warrior King” cannot even manage to kneel in front of her if she utilizes her full strength. No matter what troubles come to her son next, it will not matter one whit.

She would remove them all with extreme prejudice.

* * * *

That was a fun game! Shame she kept standing in the fire though. My old gaming buddies would definitely complain about the noob in the party, but I think having a really incompetent noble protection target is a pretty exciting event for the escorts… and hilarious given my current social standing. Besides… it wasn’t exactly a fifty-person raid boss.

“Marigold, what did you think of Miss Bayeth?” Syron asked his nearby personal maid. She stopped setting aside clothing for his upcoming trip to the bath and answered crisply.

“I did not think anything in particular about her. It is not a maid’s place to question or judge their master’s actions or associations.”

“Well, personally I hope she comes back. Just her, of course. That sister of hers… ugh.” Syron said to the chagrin of Marigold. She did not understand why he kept sharing such private thoughts with her, as it was not any of her business.

“All of the servants here are really high tier, you know? You’d have to be, in order to get hired at a place like this. All of you are so smart, sharp, clever, dedicated… et cetera et cetera. You understand how to play the game faster than I can write down the rules, nevermind actually attempting to explain them. She, on the other hand, is just so… delightfully dumb. Well, maybe that’s really rude. I don’t mean she’s an idiot. More like… flighty. She had no focus whatsoever. She made the game so much more… random, but in a pleasant way because of the juxtaposition of the three other ‘Costellos’ to her ‘Abbot’.”

Marigold slightly shook her head and ignored all the terms her Young Master used that made no sense with or without context.

“At any rate, I hope to invite her back for a continuation game soon. I’m really starting to iron out some of these rules for skills and what not. Pretty soon, I’ll have a working prototype and be able to move on to phase two!”

Marigold forced herself to not roll her eyes.

Ah yes… Phase two… the part of your plan where you wrongfully assume that working class individuals living in the nearby town will willingly subject themselves to your illusions they have been taught to fear their whole lives, just so you can play a game with them, a boy with the authority to brutally murder them publicly without any legal backlash whatsoever? I hope your plan is successful Young Master, but I will not be holding my breath in anticipation.

Marigold did not respond and instead continued to lay out Syron’s clothing in a long basket. Once satisfied it was all perfectly flat and straight, she gathered a pair of towels for him to dry with and set them in the basket too, along with his various toiletries.

“I will go make sure your bath is prepared Young Master. Do you need anything else from me before I go?”

“No thanks! You’re the best, Mari.” The Young Master grabbed the basket and strolled off towards the baths while whistling. Out in front of him on the floor, a platoon of maids with various weapons were charging towards a monkey like monster at the end of the hallway. They crashed into the monster that was three times their height and dug their weapons in, forcing the creature to silently roar in pain. It then swung its heavy club around and knocked the maids away. They didn’t seem to take any damage, and just charged at the monkey again, letting more and more blood fly out with pointless gratuity. The maids surrounded the dying monkey and swarmed around it, bringing it down with ropes and finishing it off. The maids all stood at attention and saluted Syron as he passed by them. He chuckled at his own illusion and made them fade away. He was getting better at weaving his images together quickly and efficiently. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Phase Two would be a rousing success story.