Chapter Seventeen: Auremer

 

Previously: Roseward

 

By the time they arrived in Auremer, the city was already healing. The walls were being rebuilt and ships were slowly returning to the harbor.

 

It was early spring in Valeronne when their carriages finally rolled into town. The air was chilly, but the skies and waters were blue. Mireille du Maurier could hear seagulls and smell the fresh, salty air. Despite being a simulation, it all felt very real.

 

The strangest part of it all was how familiar everything felt. Which was ridiculous, seeing as she'd never actually been here before. But then, Mireille quickly realized just how much she wanted to be here. 

 

The architecture of Valeronne was stunning, vastly more sophisticated than that of Avenholt. To Mireille, the Avenish were like the newly ennobled, proudly decked in garish fashions and surrounded by tasteless decor. But the Valeronnese were like an old-money family with ties to royalty, quietly dressed in understated refinement.

 

Auremer was a wounded city. The streets were filled with rubble, and countless buildings had burned in the war. Yet even as the people went about their day in tattered clothes, seeking food and firewood, they still had a calm air of dignity about them. 

 

Mireille touched her pause bracelet. "Computer, why the hell did my character leave this place?"

 

"After stealing her family fortune, she likely feared reprisal from her stepmother," the computer replied.

 

"Oh." Mireille blinked, remembering. "Right."

Chapter Sixteen: Roseward

Previously: Les du Maurier

 

It was a crisp, cool morning in Ravensbridge. The sun was out, the skies were clear, the colorful leaves were falling.

 

The wedding was held at the cathedral of Ravensbridge. The walls and pews were decorated with colorful autumn flowers. All the nobles in Ravensbridge attended, including the Foxmeres, the Hawkridges, and the Stoneleighs. The Baron and Baroness of Westervale were the last to arrive, and to Mireille's shock, Matilda was visibly pregnant.

 

"Congratulations," she sputtered, staring at the young blond Baroness. Arou
nd them, guests were taking their seats in the pews. 

 

"Thank you, my lady," Matilda replied, grinning as she rubbed her belly. "Everyone thinks it's a boy. Can you imagine? My first child will be the heir of Westervale."

 

"Girls can be heirs too," Mireille reminded her, slightly gesturing at herself.

 

"Perhaps in Valeronne," Matilda chuckled. "Here, they want boys."

Chapter Fifteen: Les du Maurier

Previously: Knives 

 

"All I'm saying is, she's changed," Godwin insisted. He was in the kitchen with Edith, sampling some fruit compote while Edith warily watched him, hands folded across her chest. As always, Mireille du Maurier watched them on a holographic screen upstairs.

 

The redhead pushed back. "She's still herself. She ordered entirely new wardrobes for herself, her cousin, and Marguerite—that's a very Mireille thing to do, if you ask me."

 

"And did you notice the colors of their pretty new clothes?" he asked, wiping his hands on a cloth and heading out of the kitchen. Edith followed. "Do those look like Roseward colors to you?"

 

Edith shrugged. "What's she supposed to do? Wear rose for the rest of her life? It's a spring color, Godwin, and winter is coming... when autumn ends, of course."

Chapter Fourteen: Knives

Previously: Consequences

 

"How was midday meal?" Edith asked, as soon as Mireille returned to her chambers.

 

"Enough to make me want to skip supper," the Viscountess grumbled, shedding her furs.

 

Edith's blue eyes widened. "Was it that bad?" she asked, taking the furs and placing them in a wardrobe.

 

Exasperated, Mireille tossed her hands in the air. "Apparently, my former ladies all resent me for some reason or other, and have since the beginning."

 

Her maid smiled knowingly and nodded. Mireille stared at her. "You knew?"

 

The redhead chuckled. "Servants have a saying: the lords and ladies who smile to your face are sharpening knives behind your back."

Chapter Thirteen: Consequences

Previously: Wintervale

 

Before either woman could speak again, they were interrupted.

 

Alys Hawkridge confidently strode into the dining room, followed by Rowena Thornmere. They were barely recognizable, having fully adopted the Orsynian-flavored fashions of the North. They wore their hair in milkmaid braids, with long bangs cradling their faces. Alys wore a purplish gray gown while Rowena's was very dark blue. Both women adorned themselves with silver jewelry and colorful gems.

"Are we late?" Alys asked, skin and hair still moist. "My maids bathed and dressed me as fast as they could."

 

"The meal is about to be served," Adela replied, and Mireille noted a slight scolding tone in her voice.

 

"Apologies, Highness," Rowena said, her voice stronger and more carefree than Mireille remembered. "It was a clear day and we didn't want to waste it. Zdravstvuyte, Mireille," she greeted suddenly, cheerily. 

 

Her former ward called her by her first name and no one was bowing to her anymore. Mireille worked hard not to flinch.

 

"Hello, my ladies," Mireille said, forcing herself to smile. "You are both looking well."

 

"And you are rosy as ever," Alys giggled, looking the Vicomtesse up and down. "How is Ravensbridge?"

 

You fucking bitch. In a room full of cooler shades, she felt out of place in her rose and golden tones. 

 

"Gloomy," Mireille told her honestly. "The young men have gone to war."

Chapter Twelve: Wintervale

Previously: The Girl from Brambleford

Breakfast was not as bad as she expected.

 

Marguerite was quiet. She had manners befitting a lady as she ate with both knife and fork. For breakfast she'd ordered eggs with cheese and herbs. She drank only spring water and politely asked the serving girl for some fresh fruit.

 

Thibault, on the other hand, had requested bacon and quail eggs. Despite the morning still being young, he'd ordered the most expensive ale in Brambleford. Mireille was half-amused, seeing as he wasn't paying for it (or anything else) with his own money.

 

The couple-to-be did not speak. Marguerite kept her eyes down while Thibault occasionally tossed her a disdainful glance.

Chapter Eleven: The Girl from Brambleford

Previously: La Vicomtesse Sanglante

 

"Godwin, send my regrets to Miss Adela Stoneleigh," Mireille instructed after dinner. "My cousin and I are bound for Valemont on family business. My journey to Wintervale will have to be delayed."

 

"Warm wine before bed?" Edith offered. When both Godwin and Mireille shot her a look, she hastily added, "For you, my lady, not me."

Chapter Ten: La Vicomtesse Sanglante

Previously: The Dream

 

"I'm afraid it's all true, my lady," Godwin said, after Thibault explained the situation in Auremer. "The Duke of Orvienne has invoked his right to seize property in service of war, effectively cutting off all trade with Valeronne."

 

"What right?" Mireille barked. "And why hasn't the King of Valeronne intervened in this unlawful war?"

 

"Perhaps because he's half a kingdom in debt to the Duke," the seneschal sagely replied. They were in his study, with a large map of the continent displayed before them.

 

Mireille was beyond appalled. "Was my father the only noble in all of Asterra who knew how to manage money?" she bellowed.

 

"It would appear so, ma cousine," Thibault said, shrugging. "Thankfully, you moved the bulk of the family wealth out of Orvienne months ago."

 

Mireille's hand flew to her pause bracelet. "Computer, I already know I can't stop the war. But let's say the war begins, and within a few days the Duke's own men turn on him, and kill him in his sleep or something. What then?"

Chapter Nine: The Dream

Previously: Sabotage

"Where is Edith?"

It was the morning of Matilda's wedding. All of Mireille's maids were up before dawn, except the one she paid the most.

 

Her maids exchanged looks before one answered, wincing, "Sleeping, madam."

 

Mireille stared at her. "Sleeping?"

 

They exchanged looks again before another answered, "She and Miss Rowena were up late, my lady."

 

"Doing what?" the Viscountess demanded.

 

"Well, Miss Rowena was rehearsing her role as a bridesmaid, but Edith was...drinking," a third maid hesitantly replied.

 

Mireille sighed. Edith was always drinking lately, and she'd ignored it because it hadn't been a problem thus far. And now, the one character literally programmed to be her guide in this game wasn't even showing up for work.

Chapter Eight: Sabotage

Previously: Sword and Shield

 

Ravensbridge stood on both banks of the River Raven, joined by the old stone bridge from which the town took its name. Mireille du Maurier almost regretted not having explored the town earlier, but then remembered that up until now, she had no guards.

 

Not that the town was unsafe; it was clearly designed to be a sanctuary where the player could rest and resupply. Among the numerous shops, there was an armory, an apothec
ary, and a large inn called the Raven's Crossing.

 

The theme of sanitized rusticity continued throughout the town. Mireille had never seen such perfectly cobbled roads or clean shops in a medieval RPG. The air was filled with the smell of ale, savory pies, and roasted meat. And in the distance, she could see the rolling green hills bathed in the summer sun.

 

"What a charming town," she gasped without thinking. Next to her, Sir Adrian smiled.

Chapter Seven: Sword and Shield

Previously: My Ladies

 

"My lady, you have a guest."

 

Mireille du Maurier was sitting at her vanity, playing with her jewels. It was a new hobby she'd developed over the past couple of days. In the early hours, before the sun was fully awake, she liked to sit at her vanity by the window. In the mirror, she watched her jewels glitter in the pale morning light.

 

Each one had a story. The amethyst necklace was a gift from her mother for her sixteenth birthday. The pearls were passed down from her ancestresses; according to legend they first belonged to one Comtesse du Laurenne. There wasn't much canon lore about her, except that she lived during the Golden Age of Everen, the continent where The Barony of Westervale was set.

 

They never set these games during the golden ages, Mireille snorted. Imagine the parties.