bookworm

Even in the melting pot that was the imperial capital, they were a rare breed—so much so that this was my first time ever meeting one. Much like arachne, their ancestral origins began near the Southern Sea, but had branched out all over the world; the key difference was that they fared poorly in colder climates, and thus most had settled into the warmer parts of the Empire. I wondered why someone like her was up so far north.
But of course, one look at her immaculate attire left no room for confusion. She was like me: an attendant, here to serve or protect her master here in the palace.
Still, even as someone who was used to dealing with all sorts of demihumans, I nearly yelped in terror. The surprise of seeing someone in a spot that no normal person ought to occupy had stacked on top of the striking impact of her appearance. I wasn’t going to deny that she was pretty, mind you. But the intimidation of a trunk several times larger than her upper body tapering off into an aggressive tail—I later learned they were just her final legs—beneath layers of skirtlike fabric was something else.
“Uh...” I made an ass of myself by freezing for a moment and following up with, “Good evening?”
I know, I know. But let me just ask this: Was there anything I could have said other than this?
“Good evening,” she replied. “A lovely night, isn’t it?”
She dropped down from the ceiling without a single sound, though a quiet slink would have fit perfectly. It was evident that she had clearly perceived me in spite of Ursula’s protection.
I wasn’t sure whether she was using some kind of magic or miracle, or whether she was a scout that was just that attentive. Either way, the important lesson was that I couldn’t let my guard down around her.
“Yes, well, I suppose it is a nice, peaceful night...but may I ask for which noble house you work? I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Seeing as we’d already exchanged greetings, I couldn’t exactly ignore her now. I sat upright on the sofa to address her properly, to which she responded by taking a seat in a chair, deftly wriggling her lower half around so that she sat at roughly the height a mensch would.
“You are correct. This is our first meeting, and I found myself a touch too absorbed in observing an unfamiliar face. I sincerely apologize for my rudeness.”
“No, you have my apologies for the unconcealed surprise. I am but a clumsy farmer’s boy, and I pray that you might have it in you to forgive me.”
“Then let’s say our misconduct was equal and leave it at that.” After a pause, she said, “I am a servant to Marquis Donnersmarck. He and I both should hope to get along with you. May I ask whoever it might be that you serve?”
The girl’s eloquent palatial speech took the structure of a servile variant, and her pronunciation was pitch perfect, but there was one thing that bothered me...
Her mouth wasn’t moving.
Ventriloquism was an art I’d seen even before reincarnating, but I didn’t understand why she was bothering to employ it. However, in spite of my misgivings, I pressed on and introduced myself while entertaining the possibility that a racial quirk necessitated it. With how far the conversation had progressed, I had no choice but to answer honestly; one question posed to someone who knew the truth was enough to peg me as Lady Agrippina’s attendant.
“I am Erich of Konigstuhl, servant to Count Agrippina von Ubiorum.”
“Ah... So you’re from House Ubiorum.”
The utter lack of a reaction hinted to me that she’d approached me knowing my identity from the outset. I felt less like I was being appraised and more like I was being hunted.
After exchanging another two or three rounds of small talk, the door to the room opened, and a palace servant announced Count Ubiorum’s intent to retire for the night. Only a select few individuals could employ communications magic on the premises, giving rise to physical messengers like these.
I glanced at the time and found that it had slipped away from me at a rapid pace. Solving the dilemma of how I would replace Child Prodigy had really bogged me down, it seemed—which then made me wonder: How long had she been watching me from the ceiling?
Thinking that I had no enemies here—or that they’d at least be unable to break the rules of the palace—I’d let myself get too comfortable. Permanent Battlefield was strong, but it wasn’t impervious; it would do to keep my master’s position in society in mind and carry myself accordingly. Even if I died because I lacked the strength to defend myself, I wanted to make sure I went out holding my sword at the ready. Being stabbed in the back was the most shameful way a swordsman could go out.
“If you’ll excuse me, my master is calling.”
“Of course. Apologies again for surprising you. May we meet again.”
Pulling myself together, I stood up and said my farewells, only for her poker face to waver for the first time since meeting. Her lips parted in a faint smile that let a tiny sliver of her mouth peek through, but what flashed through were not teeth...but mandibles, neatly tucked inside.
Ah, I see. She must have been trained to speak without exposing the intimidating presence of her jaw. It seemed likely that a noble might consider it inelegant to allow something so frightening to show.
Oh, this is bad. Things are looking bad, Lady Agrippina. I’d been marked by an obviously talented scout—nay, she better fit the image of an assassin. Our enemies were just raring to get this show on the road...

[Tips] Sepa are a demihuman race that come from the tropical areas near the Southern Sea. While they can be found all over the globe, their presence is a rarity in the North’s icy climate. Their most notable characteristic is their long, segmented trunks, which boast a great number of legs, enabling them to scurry about whether on flat ground or sheer bluffs.
Equipped with a second jaw—known as a mandible—protruding from the insides of their mouths, they can crack incredibly hard shells and carapaces to facilitate their omnivorous diets. Some subgroups can inject venom with this inner bite, which has led certain migrant groups within the Trialist Empire to develop a culture of hiding their fangs whenever possible.

A gorgeous pair moved rhythmically to an elegant melody in triple meter, drawing one another close; yet even in the face of their opposite’s beauty, the couple’s dance was merely the backdrop for their conversation.
“This year’s winter is a cold one indeed. The weather brings hope for a great bounty next spring.”
“Oh, is that so? I was unaware that harsh winters are prone to give way to ample harvests.”
“Yes, for the frigid cold that coats the earth kills a great deal of the vermin who burrow in its shallows. The lack of pests to pick away at produce allows for greater yields.”
At first glance, this was a joyous scene: the young lady, welcomed into noble spheres with red carpets but otherwise lacking in basic knowledge, was receiving a word of sagacious advice from an experienced lord. Alas, the reality of the situation was nothing more than a pair of liars groping for the other’s real intentions.
Agrippina was a voracious reader who powered through any book that came her way; pastoral writing had been a mainstay of her literary diet. The memoirs of career agriculturalists reflecting on their work had left her with more vocational knowledge than the average farmhand getting by without much thought.
On the other hand, Marquis Donnersmarck knew that drawing attention to what a talented actress the count proved to be would be uncouth. Not wanting to paint himself as the villain—it was clear whom the other gentlemen present would choose to defend between a handsome yet dubious man and a dazzlingly beautiful woman—he simply smiled and played along.
A private exchange might offer the opportunity to scope out flaws to be picked at, but they both wore cordial masks when in public. Although they were mutually aware that their attempts to feign innocence failed to work on one another, the need to keep up their airs with everyone else meant the show must go on.
“How lovely—you have me excited for the spring. A bountiful field of wheat cradled by the wind bobbing this way and that is such a wondrous sight.”
“The overflowing vitality of crops reaching up for the skies is a fantastic scene indeed, Agrippina. Wit have a villa back home with quite the view of the plains... What say you come to visit next summer to get away from the heat?”
The marquis wove in an invitation; it signaled their intimacy to those listening in and probed at her schedule without having to ask outright.
Agrippina could have sidestepped the question, escaping into the safety of ambiguity, but she didn’t. No, she deliberately chose to rock the boat; tidying up all her problems in one fell swoop was her key to good fortune. When tasked with waking the lethargic fools cluttering a bedroom, the best course of action was ever to pour cold water on everyone at once.
“My, thank you for the charming invitation. Unfortunately...I will be greatly busy come next spring, and it may prove rather difficult to take time off in the summer.”
The implication of something greater caused the man’s gentle brow to arc ever so slightly. Where most would have missed this cue, Agrippina took it as her opportunity to layer on an even more shocking reveal. Those within the Ubiorum county would find out soon enough anyway; she figured leaking this to him was the best way of stirring up the pot.
“His Majesty has given me strict orders to enrich the territory he has granted me. It won’t do to forgo a personal tour of the region, now will it? I’m sure that the local lords wouldn’t be pleased for an absentee ruler to dole out orders without any personal investment.”
Experienced in backroom dealings, the lady-killer reaffirmed his suspicions: taking her in as a subordinate was a pipe dream. Truth be told, the cleanest, cheapest method of laying claim to the Ubiorum county was to bring Agrippina into his sphere of influence—the odds of that were looking slimmer than ever.
Setting aside her monstrous and indomitable spirit, her proximity to the Emperor made it difficult to string her along with the prospect of profit. He had a loose read on her lack of passion for loyalty, meaning she had taken her position with full intent to use its privileges; it was obvious to see she was competent enough to do so.
But Agrippina wouldn’t be satisfied until she dropped an earth-shattering bomb.
Steeped in the pretext of dance, the pair were the life of the party. Naturally, their eavesdroppers were plentiful. There were no doubt a good number of people utilizing various tricks to duck under the palace’s antimagic field and snoop on their conversation; she made her statement as much for them as for the marquis.
“On top of that, I’ve been entrusted with the honor of being count thaumapalatine. I’m sure an official notice will be sent out soon, but the truth is, a practical demonstration of new aeroship-related technologies is slated to occur in the near future.”
“Oh? Are you sure my ears were meant to hear such news?”
“Many of the regular visitors to the palace are already in the know, and the imperial announcement is not so far off. I’m sure His Majesty would be more than happy to share with someone as neighborly as you, Marquis.”
In awe at just how sly the fox before him was, Gunther’s interest in the young methuselah swelled. He wanted her, and that desire showed no signs of simmering down. If only he could make this girl his own, the possibilities for the future would expand beyond the horizons; better yet, she would surely make these political games all the more entertaining.
“We’ve developed new techniques for surveying land that involve using the vessel’s elevation. By making use of mystic waves to accurately measure the distance from ship to ground, this advanced method will allow us to recalculate agricultural acreage to within a razor-thin margin of error, all from the comfort of the aeroship.”
“That is...quite the technology. An epiphany of the talented minds of the imperial topographical association, Wit take it. Put into practice, it will surely lead to great gains for the Empire at large.”
“You couldn’t be more right. The original idea came from the topographers, and I hear a group of capable Daybreak mathematicians turned it into reality. We hope to use the new arrangement to verify the lay of the lands and adjust any errors that might be present in current official records.”
This is bad. Though his expression remained static, the marquis was too deeply embedded in the wrongdoings of the Ubiorum county to remain calm. He was thankful that no one could see the cold sweat dripping down his back.
The protracted absence of any form of oversight save for the occasional imperial minister that could be led astray with a cut of the profits had reduced the territory’s revenue to a tragic state of affairs. Having been a key figure in creating this haven for tax evasion and corruption, receiving this bombshell at the worst possible time imaginable made Marquis Donnersmarck want to scream.
By the time Agrippina was sworn in in autumn, it had already been too late to fix the numbers: the tax reports she’d received were exactly as fraudulent as the taxes themselves. If she surveyed the land now, the jig would be up.
He couldn’t line the pockets of those working on the aeroship; having been the last Emperor’s pet project, the whole crew was staffed with unshakable imperial loyalists. And of course, destroying the ship was out of the question. There was no way to prevent her from reassessing the county’s arable acreage.
With the count herself involved in the mission, it would be impossible to hide his crimes. He doubted she’d be susceptible to the tricks of psychosorcery that he sometimes used to implant convenient memories in those that vexed him, as well.
As the marquis contemplated the many people who would be backed into corners by this move, the young lady drew herself closer, almost pressing her chest into his own.
Showy beyond words, her smile was so very articulate: Well? Checkmate is nearly at hand—whatever might be your next move?
The woman had been suddenly thrust into an impossible task but had turned it around, crafting a trap inescapable for anyone lacking even a single piece of the puzzle. The man’s avenues of reversal were limited—so limited that he would need to begin considering less than elegant solutions to his problems.
Knowing that the pawns he would need to sacrifice were many, Marquis Donnersmarck readied himself for battle with an unchanging smile. He, too, believed that checkmate was close.

[Tips] Aerial surveying is a cutting-edge process planned to be tested in the near future. Upon discovering that the aeroship is capable of maintaining a fixed altitude and position, imperial topographers surmised that it could be an effective way of making maps or measuring acreage, and immediately put in a request with their contacts at the College. By using magic to accurately measure distance and geometry to rearrange those numbers, they have effectively created a mystic variant of laser surveying.

After preparing the carriage, I went to pick up my employer, whom I found waiting for me alone. A more rabid socialite standing at the center of gossip might have made her triumphant return with a man or two in tow, but it seemed the audhumbla gentleman had unfortunately not been up to snuff.
That said, I was happy for him, personally. I didn’t want to see the promising future generations that would lead our country sucked into the petals of this carnivorous plant. If any of them dared lay a finger on this woman, the enticing hope of nectar would give way to a hell handmade to suck them dry. Her rise as a noble in her own right meant she would probably need to find a spouse before long, but it was going to be a spectacle to see which poor bastard got slam-dunked into the ring of misfortune.
I’d be free from this mess by then, though. That meant I would be able to enjoy the show safely from a seat in the audience.
But tonight, I played my role without a fuss and saw to the madam’s postbanquet arrangements once we reached the atelier. She caught me off guard by giving me a tip—a consolation for making me wait so long, she said—suggesting that tonight’s ball had been a troublesome ordeal. Curious, I asked what had happened, but was met with an answer that made me want to furrow my brow.
“Marquis Donnersmarck came by to disturb me tonight. It seems he still has yet to fold his hand, so I flaunted a rather distressing secret to see if he wanted to continue this farce. With how numerous his conspirators seem to be, I’m sure it’ll come with the added value of drawing out reactions from them too.”
Sure enough, the name of interest came up. I told her about what had happened in the servants’ room, and she rolled her eyes, undoing her hair with a snap. Then, she began listing off unfamiliar family names, bending a finger for each one.
“What exactly are these evidently prestigious names meant to be?” I asked.
“These are the lords of the Ubiorum county who I’ll eventually have relocated to more scenic positions.”
Wowzers, I almost said aloud, breaking every rule in the servant’s handbook. A “more scenic position” was a euphemism for the gallows; reworded, it was an assertion that “hanged, your neck makes for a picturesque scene.”
While I understood why my master was planning out a massacre—collective punishment wasn’t on the table, but many would certainly die, especially seeing as nobles didn’t fare well in vocational changes—I was totally fed up with the sheer volume of her enemies. They weren’t harmless twigs on the forest floor; they were wielders of power who kept detectives and assassins in their back pockets. Just thinking about what was to come made me depressed.
Even now, I hardly wanted for unsavory visitors trying to meddle in my affairs; rather, what I wanted was for them to all go away. We were due for an uptick in desperate rebels whose only alternative was execution or jumpy magistrates whose hopeless situations pushed them to rash action.
“Honestly, the circumstances of a new noble unaligned with a strong political faction are so tiresome. My only company are fools misjudging my worth and those trying to exploit my position—even I find this exhausting. And all this is doubly true as a count of the palace.”
Lady Agrippina’s lackadaisical complaints ran on as she dropped her coat on the floor, kicked off her shoes after they untied themselves, and loosened up her dress. After degrading her fabulous party wear to a disheveled mess, she fell onto the sofa, pulled out her beloved pipe, and curled her lips into a wicked grin.
“But fair is fair. I shall use the cards I’ve been dealt to the fullest degree. The authority that comes with the credentials of a Great Pillar and the Emperor is no affectation. Not only have I wrung out plenty of funding, but I even managed to expedite a new technology slated for next year to be completed now.”
Man, did she look evil. I hadn’t seen her this devilish since the day she’d recognized Elisa as a changeling and invited us to join her. That smile was enough to bring a child to tears.
“Mmkay,” she hummed. “Run along and prepare my bath—ah, and I’m feeling like rose petals today. As for the scented oils...well, I shall leave it to you.”
“As you will, my liege.”
“Oh, and feel free to complete this any time before you leave tonight, but I’d like you to pen letters to all the names on this list. You’re aware of the reason I’m leaving this to you, I’m sure?”
“As an insurance policy to plausibly deny any official commitments on your part—yes, I’m very much aware. You know I haven’t written any concrete names andthat I take express care to diverge from your usual handwriting, yes?”
The madam simply puffed a cloud of smoke my way, and I lost any will to argue. Look, if this monster was going to make an effort, then things would probably work out. A lowly kid like me had no business worrying about whatever the hell she had in store.

[Tips] Ghostwritten letters are the product of busy masters entrusting the task of correspondence to their hired help. However, they come with the added benefit of being able to deflect any demands that the statements within be honored by the simple question, “Do you have any proof that I wrote this?” making them a useful tool in wrongdoing.
More official letters will include both a note apologizing for not penning the words personally and a seal to authenticate the contents within. However, even then, the writer will take great care to omit any evidence that might be able to prove the letter’s origins.