The rest of the day was spent observing. Calle was oblivious to anything she didn’t find interesting. She didn’t find servants interesting, treating them similar to furniture. Unless a servant messed up in front of her, she never paid any attention to them. What they did, where they did it, she had not the foggiest idea.

But Felicia wanted to know. She’d never lived in this time period before and was curious. What’s more, she couldn’t run something she didn’t understand.

Unlike in her original life and then her second life, this world had very little automation. It’s not that machines didn’t exist, but they were larger or more crudely built than what was available during her time.

She saw hand pumps used for getting water. There were pendulum clocks hanging from the walls in various parts of the manor. She recalled the Viscount wore spectacles. Calle had seen guards carrying guns along with swords. And recently the pocket watch had been invented and was all the rage among the gentry, something their wives— noblewomen that Calle spent time with—had noted.

In terms of domestic machines, like washing machines, indoor plumbing, and electricity for lighting, there was none at all. Everything from food to furniture was made from scratch, usually by a local farmer or craftsman. Donkeys and horses pulled carts. Human muscle and hard work was needed to get most things done.

All this to say, there was a job for everything in the mansion. Even the bathrooms had dedicated servants. No matter where she walked, she was never alone because a servant was somewhere nearby. It was really remarkable to Felicia that her host managed to ignore so many people…

Thinking back on the sparse accounting books for the mansion she sighed. Instead of having a list of all the servants, their jobs and pay, where they lived, there were generic titles like “Outside Servants”, “Gardners”, “Mansion Servants”, and “Kitchen”. A number was listed underneath each title with, what she guessed was, all their wages added together in a lump sum. This sum changed from month to month, sometimes by quite a lot.

Highly suspicious.

How do you run a mansion? After aimlessly walking around—confusing her maids and scaring servants— she could only conclude: with a lot of manpower. Of course that observation wasn’t useful for anything.

After mulling it over, she went to the tea room and told one of her maids to bring the Housekeeper. From Calle’s vague understanding of mansion management, the Housekeeper dealt with the people.

The Housekeeper appeared barely a minute later. Felicia inwardly applauded her speed.

It wasn’t proper for servants to speak first so the Housekeeper waited for Calle to talk with her head bowed. Felicia opened her mouth and then realized she had no idea what this woman’s name was…. Her brows showed slight displeasure at this discovery which made the Housekeeper nervous.

Realizing she was accidently tormenting the woman, Felicia cleared her throat.

“You, Housekeeper, it occurs to me your existence is so miniscule I don’t know your name.” Felicia inwardly raged at how her request for a name got garbled so badly.

“My name is Alta, Marchioness.” Housekeeper Alta responded without the slightest rancor.

Felicia was relieved to see Alta didn’t take Calle’s harsh observation to heart.

“Tomorrow, after I take breakfast, gather all the servants to the backyard by the gazebo on the south side.”

“Yes, Marchioness.”

“Also, provide me with plenty of paper, quill, ink, and something to set that on before the servants arrive.”

“As you wish, Marchioness.” There was a small pause, “Might I ask what the Marchioness plans on doing?”

“Just do as I say.”

“Of course!”

“You are dismissed.”

Felicia watched the Housekeeper leave with a slightly perplexed expression on her face and relaxed a little. Within this mansion, Felicia didn’t know who could be trusted, if anyone. Rather than explain herself and risk people interfering, she would keep them in the dark until the last moment. They can’t stop her if they don’t know what she’s doing.

Thinking along those lines, she took a sip of tea and hummed a tune no one in this timeline knew.

The next morning she, once again, told her maid to bring her son to breakfast. Unlike the day before, every maid in her room visibly paused. Probably they’d thought yesterday was a fluke. But for it to be done twice in a row….. That was planned.

When she got to breakfast, her son and his Nanny were standing in exactly the same place they had yesterday.

“From now on,” Calle said stiffly, “have the Heir Childe sit in his seat even if I have not arrived.”

The Nanny, being mute, could only nod in acknowledgement with slightly widened eyes.

After breakfast, Felicia turned to Nanny Flor and said, “Follow me. You may bring him if you like.”

She then walked to a small seating room and sat down. Both the Nanny and the boy remained standing.

“You may sit.” She motioned to the nearby chairs.

Querido sat down while Nanny remained standing.

Calle raised an eyebrow at the Nanny, “I said sit.”

The Nanny’s mouth fell open in shock. Servants weren’t supposed to sit in the same seats as the nobles…. But since she’d been commanded she didn’t dare disobey. She quickly found a seat and sat on the very edge of it, as if ready to hop up at any moment.

Without any pre-amble, Calle began explaining, “Starting tomorrow, Heir Childe— no, my son—will eat all his meals with me.”

Nanny Flor’s eyes widened substantially.

Felicia glanced at Querido and was disappointed to see a blank expression. Thinking about his little stone-face reminded her of the etiquette governess.

Turning slightly to one of her maids she asked, “We still employ the etiquette governess, correct?”

“Yes, Marchioness.”

“Is she under contract or paid month-by-month?”

The maid looked surprised and then nervous.

“My apologies, I don’t know.”

Felicia thought for a moment and realized she’d asked the wrong person. She turned to the Nanny.

“Do you know?”

The Nanny nodded.

“Hold up one finger if under contract and two if month-by-month.”

The Nanny held up one finger.

“Hm… one finger for yes, two for no. If I release her early, will we have to pay a fee?”

The Nanny held up one finger.

Calle grimaced. She’d rather not give that woman any extra money but part of recovering from corruption was keeping to the contracts that were made.

Pointing to the maid and then to the Nanny, “Tomorrow when my son and I are having lunch, you will go and find the governess. Tell her we are letting her go. Whatever money she wants, give it to her. If she demands an explanation,” A sneer played across Calle’s face, “Tell her she has performed her tasks too well and turned my son into a puppet rather than a polite little boy.”

Not just the Nanny, every maid in the room was visibly startled. For 6 years their Marchioness had barely shown her son any attention. The maids who served under her directly could count on one hand how many times she spoke about her son in a month.

Years of service honed their senses. In that moment they all felt it: the Marchioness was changing. In what direction and why, they had no idea. But the old ways of doing things, they were sure, were about to get flipped on their heads. This thought unsettled them, as they weren’t sure how to behave from this point forward.

Unnoticed by everyone, the stony faced little boy’s eyes flickered. For the first time he looked at his mother as if she were really there.

As she’d commanded, all the servants met her at the gazebo after breakfast. The Housekeeper and the Steward stood on either side of her. There was also another man she did not recognize who turned out to be the cook, or Head Chef.

Being well trained, none of them talked, quietly waiting to see what was going on. Some of them wondered if they’d been caught doing this and that, others wondered if that mistake last time was finally getting them dismissed, and others had emptied their minds, accepting whatever was to come.

Standing up, Felicia looked out over the servants and guessed there were a little under a hundred of them. Taking a deep breath, she began:

“Those who are in charge of two or more people, step forward….”

First she organized the leadership. They stood in front. Behind them in a neat line was everyone they were in charge of, with a few random people left to stand by themselves. First she asked their names, what they did, length of employment, marital status, if they had children, ages, where they lived, their wage, and how often they were paid.

When it got to their wages, they would inevitably look towards the three people standing with her, as if to ask if giving this kind of information away was alright. Annoyed at this, she turned to the three and commanded, “Turn around so that they can only see your backs. You may not look behind you or turn around until I give you permission.”

The Steward, Housekeeper, and Cook all stiffened noticeably. They clearly did not want to do as she commanded.

Her lip curled in displeasure, “If you will not turn, then I will dismiss you from the mansion instead.”

They immediately turned their backs to the servants.

From then on it was easier to get information from the workers. They still felt uncomfortable about stating their wages, so she would say a domination and have them hold up their fingers to show how much. This way, their “bosses” wouldn’t know what was being said.

By the end she discovered she had 96 people working for Fresa Mansion.

Directly under the Steward was the Butler. All male servants reported to him. Under the Housekeeper was the Head Maid, all the female servants reported to her. There was also a Head Gardner, Stable Master, and Gamekeeper. These were called Senior Household Servants and those who worked under them were Junior Household Servants.

Almost every female Junior servant was a teenager, with the youngest being 12 and the oldest being a woman who had some kind of mental handicap in her 30s. When she asked one of the teenagers why there were so few adult juniors, they were dumbfounded at her ignorance. Wasn’t it obviously because they got married when they were old enough to do so and had to quit to raise children?

Felicia felt a bit embarrassed for not seeing what was right in front of her.

The men didn’t have the same restriction as the women, so the age ranges were wider among the male Junior Servants. At least one man was still working despite having great-great grandchildren. It seemed that the teenagers worked the heavy labor and dangerous jobs, while the older men worked the safer but more detail-oriented jobs.

There was also a noticeable wage gap between the men and women. Most of it could be explained away because the maids were typically younger, weaker, and less experienced temporary workers. Therefore, they didn’t get paid as much. But the Head Maid did essentially the same job as the Butler, but was still paid less.

After getting everyone’s information, she sent them away. Only after they were gone did she allow her three “bosses” to turn around. They did not look happy at how they were treated but that didn’t matter. She could vaguely sense she hadn’t crossed the point of no return with them.

“You three, sit.” She pointed at the empty chairs

They all stared at her in shock and didn’t move. Rubbing her forehead she repeated the order twice before they finally, very hesitantly, sat down. How many times was she going to get a shocked expression for telling someone to sit down? This was ridiculous!

Once they were seated she grilled them in a similar manner as all the other servants. However, unlike them, she asked more in depth questions. She asked about upkeep of the mansion, annual repairs, future repairs, staffing issues, and so on.

They all answered automatically, their expressions slightly dazed as they watched her smoothly jot down everything they said. Occasionally they’d look into her face, as if checking to make sure they were really talking to their Marchioness. Felicia ignored all this and focused on business.

Once everything was done, she gave a firm nod.

“After looking it over, I’m noticing that how and when we pay mansion staff is not consistent. This won’t do. If we aren’t consistent in this area, we can’t keep decent accounting books—”

She noticed the Steward stiffen at the mention of those books and gave a wry laugh. So he was the one cooking the books.

“—and we also can’t give raises, time off, holidays, and rewards. These aren’t common workers in the fields, they are servants of a noble. Their treatment ought to be equal to their status.”

They stared at her blankly. They understood what she meant by raises and rewards, got the gist of “time off”, but what was this about holidays?

“Tomorrow, I will write everything out and we will switch over to my method. A month from now, I will discuss with you how these new changes were implemented and if anything needs to be modified. Understood?”

The Chef slowly raised his hand, similar to a child in a school room.

“Speak, Chef Gordo.”

“What…. What did Marchioness mean… by holidays?”

“A period of time over two days set aside where servants may take leave of the mansion without losing their jobs.”

They stared at her silently, deeply confused and a little anxious.

‘DARS, what’s their deal?’

[Holidays are the realm of the church, you, as a secular ruler, don’t set them. They do not understand how you can make a holiday. To do so would be blasphemous.]

‘Oh then… a vacation maybe…’

[They don’t have a word for that yet.]

‘Wut?’

[Servants don’t take vacations. That is a modern idea.]

‘.....oh.’

She frowned slightly and rephrased herself, “I’m not talking about the holidays instituted by God and the church. I’m talking about….” She suddenly went silent. “I mean a time period where servants can do as they like, unrelated to religion, the church or God.”

They all nodded slowly, looking slightly relieved.

“If I may, Marchioness?”

“Speak, Steward.”

“What is the point of a holiday if it is not related to God?”

“To rest and relax.”

“Is that not what sleeping is for?”

Felicia was momentarily speechless. Did this guy think people worked from the moment they woke up till the moment they slept?! Unreasonable! Absolutely unreasonable!

“Sleeping is not enough.”

“Pardon my impudence, but it has been enough in the past.”

She narrowed her eyes at the Steward. He definitely wanted to fight her on this.

“Indeed you are impudent. I can tell you are against this idea and, frankly speaking, I do not care. As the Guardian of this estate, if I deem sleeping not enough for my servants, then it is not enough. You need only carry out my orders.”

The Steward couldn’t quite hide his disdain for her in that moment. She gave a light laugh that carried a sliver of malice in it.

She turned to the Housekeeper, “Who keeps the accounting books?”

The Housekeeper, who had been trying to stay small in this conversation, blinked rapidly at suddenly getting dragged into the argument. Unconsciously, her eyes flickered to the Steward.

“You need not say, your eyes tell the truth.” Calle turned back to the Steward. “I know you haven’t been recording the financial state of this mansion properly. The only time you accurately record anything is if it’s money I spent directly.”

The Steward’s disdain vanished and his whole body froze.

“You have worked hard for me and the Viscount—”

She noted his jaw twitch at the mention of the Viscount.

“—and that is praiseworthy. It is so praiseworthy that I am willing to overlook all those inconsistent and missing numbers in the accounts.”

His body relaxed slightly but his eyes narrowed, showing his guard wasn’t down.

“Thank you for your mercy concerning my mistakes and recognizing my work over the years, Marchioness.”

“Mmmhmmm. But starting right now, your past hard work will no longer cover future indiscretions. You will be reporting directly to me concerning the repairs, funds, and wages of the Mansion. If I find that people aren’t being paid properly, or the repairs aren’t being made, or the funds set aside for something suddenly disappear, or that for any reason the numbers don’t match up…..” She gave a nasty smile. “....well, the next person you’ll need mercy from is not me, but God. Do you understand?”

This indirect death threat was not lost on the Steward. He had helped Calle get rid of servants she disliked in the past. He understood exactly what she could do.

Gripping his hands into fists underneath the table, he gave a bow of his upper body.

“I understand. Your wish is my command, Marchioness.”

After everyone had left, Felicia asked DARS, ‘Hey, can you do me a favor?’

[If I am able.]

‘Can you fly around the mansion and eavesdrop on all the servants? Figure out who the hard workers are, the lazy ones, the mean ones, the ones with the best reputations, things along those lines?’

[Yes, I can do that.]

‘Sweet, thanks!’ She then grabbed him on the sly and gave him a big smooch on his cheek. Or what she assumed was a cheek.

DARS had several \\ appear on his face, his circumference turning pink, and froze. It wasn’t until she mentally started laughing at him that he was finally able to move. He fled like he was being chased.

He was gone until just before her host would usually go to bed. Turning to her maid, she had them get her a heap of papers, her quill and more ink. Instead of going to bed, she stayed up and worked.

Her maids left with looks of blank astonishment in their eyes. The only time they’d seen the Marchioness stay up past her bedtime was if a “gentleman” was visiting. Had she been possessed by the devil? What on earth was going on???

The next day, the mansion was hit with several bits of shocking news.

Wages had been adjusted. Rather than your pay being determined by who you knew and how good you were at bootlicking, it was by length of service and the quantity and quality of work. Some people found themselves with a pay cut but most people were given a raise. The Housekeeper got the biggest raise of them all and was so stunned she actually had to sit down and fan herself.

Naturally the people who got a pay cut weren’t happy, but they discovered no one felt sorry for them. They were either lazy or mean or both, only able to get paid because they slept with someone or were related to the right person. Most of the servants didn’t like them. Threatening to quit didn’t work because everyone would be happy if they left. Complaining to the Senior servants didn’t work either, because most of them had got a slight boost in pay. Going to the Marchioness was absolutely out of the question, she was the whole reason they got a pay cut.

Felicia had been a little surprised by the information she got back from DARS. While there were definitely some corrupt individuals in the mansion, such as the Steward, many were sincere in their jobs but misguided thanks to Calle’s terrible— or non existent— leadership.

The Housekeeper, for instance, did her own job plus anything the Steward didn’t want to do. She was short tempered thanks to being overworked but she still did an excellent job. Anyone trained under her directly never failed to perform a task. If they displeased their fickle Marchioness, the Housekeeper would quietly send them away instead of “punishing” them as Calle would have preferred. Yet the Housekeeper had the lowest pay of the top three servants.

After wages came “payday”, “time off”, “sick leave”, and a word none of them had heard of before “vacation”. Everyone would be paid once a week on the same day. Their pay would be handed over and counted in front of the Butler and Head Maid. If there was a dispute over the pay, the Housekeeper, Steward, or Cook would be called in to sort it out. This kept everyone accountable. Anyone caught trying to steal or “borrow” wages from other servants would be instantly dismissed.

People who had worked over a year got a paid day off once a week, while those under a year got a single unpaid day off once a week. Getting a day off wasn’t unusual, getting a set day off once a week was strange and getting paid not work? Absolutely never been done before. Of course, no one would complain about it. If the Marchioness wanted to pay them not to work, they’d be stupid to tell her otherwise.

With days off came a large board put up near several entrances of the mansion used by the servants. Each Board had clearly marked days of the week lists and pegs which had hanging wood markers with names of servants on them underneath. These boards showed who was working and who had a day off. People who worked similar jobs or were proficient in more than one job, could even exchange days off with other servants if they were amicable, further customizing time off.

Everyone thought this was a really novel system. Not only did it let everyone know when they had a day off, it also made it public so no one could sneak out of work or claim they had days off that they didn’t have… all a person had to do was look at the board to find out who was working for the day.

Sick leave was also revolutionary. Previously, getting sick meant working through it until they were better or going home and not getting paid. Now, a person who was sick was required to go home and rest. Not only would they still get paid, but a doctor would be sent to check on them and give any medicine that was needed. The doctor would then report the illness to the mansion, where it would be recorded. Why their illnesses needed to be recorded, no one understood. But most of them had never been seen by a doctor, much less got paid while sick, so they weren’t going to question it and simply accepted this benefit with open arms.

Felicia decided to do “sick leave” in place of health insurance. It was also a good way to keep track of diseases and illnesses that might be spreading among the servants. And having the doctor visit made it so they couldn’t fake being sick.

Lastly was “vacation”. No one had heard this word before but when they found out what it was, they decided to etch it in their hearts. Vacations were similar to paid time off, but two days or more. To get vacations, a person had to work at the mansion for more than a year. For every year they worked, they got more vacation days. They could get up to a month off in paid vacation. And that time would be paid for… in advance. If, at the end of the year, the allotted vacation time wasn’t used, it would be paid out in something called a “bonus”. The only restrictions were long vacations had to be thoroughly planned out in advance so that the mansion didn’t suffer in someone's absence.

There were several servants who’d worked at that mansion for over 20 years. Not only did they qualify for a pay raise, they got paid days off and a month worth of paid vacation allotted to them right off the bat. They actually had to find a wall to lean on because they wept so heavily at the sudden windfall of good fortune.

Everyone walked around in a daze the whole day. They couldn’t believe any of this really happened. Many were silently skeptical but deeply hopeful. They wanted it to be true so badly but they also knew their Marchioness. She was fickle and easily changed her mind. Who knows if all these benefits would remain this time next year?

And how could Fesa Mansion afford to do all this?

When Felicia went over everyone's pay and compared it to the previous years expenditures, she found that numbers differed wildly. The “low” numbers she had seen were the most accurate representation on how much it costs to pay the servants. When she calculated how much it would cost to include raises, paid days off, vacation, and doctors visits, it still fell short of last year's incorrectly reported wage expenses.

She had no idea where that extra money was going, but it certainly wasn’t being used to pay for mansion expenses or servant wages. And even should someone still try to defraud her through the mansion accounts, there was a second source of “income” she could use to pay for the servants.

Her personal allowance. This was the money set aside every year to feed, clothe, and entertain her. Reducing her shopping expenditures— like getting fewer new dresses— would cover the servants wages. She could also sell the quantities of jewelry she had but rarely wore in a pinch.

When she realized how much money her host spent on frivolous crap— enough to pay for the entire mansion's wages— she was so angry she went to the mirror and scolded her host furiously. Thankfully it was late at night and no one saw, otherwise they really might think the Marchioness had lost her mind.

A whole two weeks passed before the Viscount paid her a visit. Truthfully she’d expected to see him sooner, but he hadn’t been in the mansion. Who knew where he went off to? The assistant had only known he was “out on business” and nothing else.

Viscount Barrera was a “lesser noble”. It meant that he didn’t govern— or wasn’t supposed to anyway— any land. Viscounts were generally assistants to higher nobles, such as Count or Duke. They helped with paperwork and travelled frequently in the place of their lord. Basically, they were the hands and feet of whoever they worked under.

In appearance Barrera was a short, fat balding man who constantly carried a pair of spectacles in his front pocket. He had originally worked for the deceased Marquess Fresa but got bribed into working for Calle. The good thing about this kind of person was you could buy them, the bad thing about this kind of person was you could buy them. Basically, his greed was a double edged sword.

The host’s view of him was positive. Firstly because he was a noble, even if he was a lesser one. That made him intrinsically better than everyone and an acceptable person for Calle to talk with. Secondly, anything she demanded he gave her. All in exchange for her not looking too deeply into fief business. It was a pretty good deal for Calle but a stinky pile of poo for Felicia.

Though he was an expert suckup and looked harmless, Felicia knew he was the most dangerous of Calle’s minions. Just by virtue of being a lesser noble, he was in a position to cause her real trouble. Of all the people Calle knew directly, he could most easily blackmail her or send her to court.

As was proper, he made an appointment to see her. Though he didn’t need to bow and only nodded his head politely, as a lesser noble he still had to wait for Calle to greet him before speaking.

“Come in Viscount Barrera and have a seat.” Calle offered in a tender friendly voice.

Felicial was left internally speechless. Why was it the one person she actually wanted to be arrogant and domineering towards, her host was treating like an old friend?!

“Marchioness Fresa, thank you for having me.” He said before promptly sitting down. Unlike servants, a noble sitting down with another noble wasn’t usual. “It’s been quite some time. How have you been?”

“Busy with a new interest of mine.” Felicia knew that it was common for nobles to talk around a problem because it was “polite” but she wasn’t willing. The alternative was to indirectly directly bring up the main topic, which is what she just did.

Viscount Barrera was startled at her for skipping the polite small talk but quickly adapted.

“Would that be the changes in the mansion I’ve been hearing about?”

“So you’ve noticed?”

He chuckled, his face jiggling along with him. “It would be hard not to notice, even before I arrived at the mansion, people were talking about it in the town.”

“My, my… word spread that far. Wonderful!”

His eyebrows rose slightly, not expecting that this would please her. “Ever since I heard I’ve been dreadfully curious to find out what sparked this new… interest?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She sighed dramatically. “As you know, the Heir Childe’s reputation is not very good. I can’t even begin to tell you what dreadful things people are saying behind my back because of it. Initially I thought an etiquette governess would fix the problem but it turned out that wasn’t enough. A whole new slew of rumors spread instead while I wasn’t looking. Do you know what they say?”

“Marchioness, I naturally don’t pay attention to shallow gossip.” He smiled gently, but Felicia had plenty of memories from her host about this man gossiping in the most malicious way. She knew he was being fake.

“Then I will tell you straightforwardly: they are saying the Heir Childe’s soul was eaten by the Mora Witch so she can cast curses on her enemies. That’s why she hid him away in the mansion and now he shows no emotion.”

The Viscount’s gentle smile froze. He cautiously asked, “Where did you hear such a… shocking rumor?”

She chuckled, round eyes narrowing in amusement. “Here and there.”

It was no wonder he was alarmed. That wasn’t a rumor in higher noble circles, but from lesser nobles circles, like the Viscount, and even commoners.

Felicia heard about it from DARS, who she periodically sent out to spy and gather information for her. These kinds of rumors never reached Calle’s ears because they were “vulgar gossip”, that is, gossip that wasn’t talked about in her social circles. And no one locally would dare repeat them to her face unless they had a death wish.

“When I heard, my oh my, you can imagine how upset I was…. Heir Childe doesn’t have a soul? What nonsense! And me being a witch that casts curses?” She gave a malicious chuckle, “Since when did I need magic to harm my enemies?”

The Viscount laughed, but without any humor.

“Then I calmed down and realized it was true that something was wrong with the Heir Childe. I started to inquire more closely about it and decided the etiquette governess was to blame. She had been too good at her job. He certainly learned to be polite, but he lacks… humanness. So I decided to get rid of the governess and began teaching him myself.”

“Very wise, Marchioness.” Viscount nodded in agreement, though he looked a little distracted, as if he was suffering from a shock he hadn’t quite recovered from.

“As for me being a witch who eats souls, goodness… for my reputation to be that bad… even affecting the Heir Childe too...” She tilted her head and pouted, “How absolutely vexing.”

The Viscount stopped being distracted and suddenly focused on her. Though he was still smiling, it definitely didn’t reach his eyes.

“Naturally that would be upsetting. If you tell me who was spreading such terrible rumors—”

Calle waved her hand dismissively. “What good would telling you do? Will you cut off the tongues of the speakers? Even if you did that, it won’t stop the rumors, only drive people to believe they are true. No, violence, though satisfying, isn’t the long term solution.”

The Viscount nodded begrudgingly, “I suppose… that is a point to consider…”

“I thought deeply about this problem all night and then had an epiphany.” She smiled broadly, as if proud of herself. “The best way to fix the Heir Childe’s reputation is by fixing my reputation. And to fix my reputation, I must be the opposite of a witch who curses. I must be… well, this is a bit sacrilegious but I hope you understand my meaning… I must be an angel.”

“...an angel?” The Viscount’s face slackened, stupefied by her conclusion.

“That’s right, an angel. More precisely, I must be angelic. But where to start? Being widowed so young, I know so very little about the world…” She pretended to look sad and the Viscount pretended to be sympathetic. “At first I thought of doing something big. I’ve heard of noblewomen supporting or running a charity in their fief. They’re greatly admired by the church for it and commoners love them. But to be honest, I am not confident I can run one. I don’t know anything about how the fief works and so don’t know what kind of charity is needed. Before the late Marquess ran everything and now you, his reliable right hand, is running everything. Any charity idea of mine might cause more harm than good because of my ignorance…”

The Viscount nodded, “Marchioness, you are so wise. If you should ever want to do something… generous… just leave the toilsome work to me. I will execute it perfectly.”

“It’s because you would do it so perfectly that I ended up doing nothing.” She smiled and gave a sigh, while thinking this guy would definitely find a way to pocket the money. “You weren’t in the mansion at the time, and without you there, I didn’t dare to do anything. But I was eager to do something, anything to help boost my reputation. How could I fix my reputation to a lot of people all at once if not through the fief...? Then I realized I was sitting in a place I could do that. Here, the Fresa Mansion.”

“Ah…. I see.”

“I admit my management of the mansion has been…. Lacking, ever so slightly.” Calle gave a self-deprecating look, as if admitting to a secret. “I was taught how to properly manage an estate before I was married, I just… well, I did not expect to marry the late Marquess Fresa and I’m afraid the sudden change left me all out of sorts.”

Viscount was very clear on the fact that Calle had been sold to the Marquess. He was also sensible enough to know an 18 year old would not be eager to marry someone 45 years older than her. He raised his eyebrows at her indirect slap to the deceased Marquess and wisely chose not to comment.

“As you know, the wife, even as a widow, is responsible for the mansion. A wife who runs her home well is a virtuous woman. A woman who can make her house a home is the paragon of femininity and loveliness. Since I had been… neglectful… in such a basic area, then the easiest place to start repairing my reputation was at the home. So that’s what I did.”

“While that is true….” The Viscount spoke slowly, “...isn’t it only among the commoners your reputation will increase?”

Him bringing this point up was sensible, considering Calle’s usual behavior and mindset. No one but the commoners would benefit from her improving the mansion management. How well a mansion was taken care of was not the topic of higher nobles unless someone was aggreviously incompetent at it.

She raised an eyebrow, “But Viscount Barrerra, is that not how you heard about my wonderful change? Through commoners?”

Viscount paused and blinked, apparently not expecting her to think things through to such a degree.

“But I’m a lesser noble, how will me knowing help your reputation among your peers…”

“Lesser nobles talk to higher nobles, don’t they? You’re doing so right now. In fact, I’ve been thinking… if you want to spread a rumor— good or bad— and make it seem natural, the best place to start is with commoners. The lower nobles hear about the rumor from commoners, they tell the lesser nobles, who tell the higher nobles. Eventually, if the rumor is interesting enough, it reaches the royal family. And because it started from the commoners and made its way up that far, everyone thinks there must be some truth to the rumor. After all, how could every strata of society be talking about the same thing and be wrong?” She smiled at him innocently.

The Viscount gave a forced smile back, but inside he was reeling from shock.

Calle Mora Fresa was greedy, vain, and selfish. She could scheme only by using people more intelligent and well connected than herself. And those intelligent people agreed to being used because she was easy to manipulate in return and someone of high status. She was a doorway to bigger and better things. He knew because that’s what he’d been doing safely all this time.

But what she just said wasn’t inline with the simpleton he’d been working with for years. Except for clever people such as himself, very few realized that rumors circulating among commoners were actually controlled by those with great wealth or power. And the reason why was exactly as she stated: why would all of society talk about the same thing if it wasn’t true? Rumors could sway public opinion and public opinion could make or break people.

Taking out his handkerchief, he wiped his sweating forehead.

“I’m quite impressed with your insight Marchioness.” He praised before repeating his statement from earlier in the conversation, “As I said before, if there’s anything you want to do in relation to the fief, please just tell me and I’ll do my utmost to carry out your orders.”

Felicia inwardly rolled her eyes. This guy was acting like he’d be helpful but in truth he just wanted to confirm she wasn’t going to upset their previous agreement concerning fief leadership. Since there was a lot she didn’t know because Calle was willfully ignorant in the areas that mattered, she had no choice but to depend on him for the moment.

Calle waived her hand. “Not at all, not at all. Truthfully, the mansion and Heir Childe is keeping me busy. And a woman should stay at home and raise her child properly before worrying about other people.” Felicia internally gagged at this statement. “Charity work will have to wait. It is better for me to focus on raising the Heir Childe in the end. I’ll leave the fief concerns in your capable hands, as always.”

Viscount unease lessened slightly at her statement. But only slightly.

The Marchioness had changed. The rationale behind why barely passed inspection. The major problem with it was that the Marchioness had never cared about anyone outside higher society. That is, even if she was called a witch, she’d never link it to how she treated people below her. How she raised her reputation was by flaunting her wealth, always keeping with the latest fad, knowing the juiciest gossip…. And to her, she did all those perfectly.

This idea of her reputation being bad thanks to her mistreatment of lower classes was, as far as he knew, a foreign concept to her mind.

And yet.

That’s exactly what she was espousing.

If he hadn’t heard it with his own two ears he would not have believed it. In fact, that’s why he came. His spies had told him about all the things she’d done and he couldn’t believe it. To confirm it wasn’t all someone else’s doing he’d made an appointment to test the waters. But it turned out it really was all her doing.

Where had she heard those rumors about her being a witch? Those rumors had been floating around ever since the Marquess got ill after marrying her. She’d never heard them— or maybe she had but didn’t care. Now suddenly she did? And cared?

He’d have investigated further… not just how she heard those rumors, but other things as well. This change was so sudden, he couldn’t help being suspicious.

Of course this may just be another one of her whimsies. It would not be the first time she became obsessed with something. Though it would be the first time the obsession would be helpful to the people below her….

He could tolerate any change she made just as long as she didn’t touch the fief management. That had been their unspoken deal all these years. She got to live how she liked and he covered it all up for her, but in return she gave up managing the fief. All the real power was given to him.

He’d lived like a king for years thanks to her short-sightedness. If she suddenly wanted it back… he wasn’t willing to give it to her. He was too used to this glorious life now and he refused to go back to being ordered around like a dog….

Ah.

When he thought about being ordered around like a dog, he suddenly remembered the mansion steward, Doblar.

He’d been skimming money from the mansion to pay for his gambling debts all these years. The Viscount knew but didn’t care because a gambling vice made him easy to control. Anything the Viscount wanted, Steward Doblar would do lest he end up in debtor’s prison due to his addiction. That was useful to the Viscount, who often assigned him the nastier tasks requested by the Marchioness.

After all, it was the Viscount’s policy to never do anything illegal or morally questionable directly. Always use someone else. That way the blame would never fall on him.

But if the Marchioness found out about the Steward’s gambling and decided she disliked it...

Well. The Steward was only a commoner. If he found himself in hot water from the Marchioness, he better not expect anyone to save him. Whatever was needed to make the Marchioness happy, and away from the fief, the Viscount would do in a heartbeat. That included abandoning one of his pawns in the mansion.

The Marchioness was the reason he, a Viscount, could rule a fief. If she wasn’t there, he would be back to being under someone’s thumb. He had to protect her… for his own sake.