Getting ready for the birthday party of one of the most powerful people in the kingdom was no small task. Servants zipped through the castle at break-neck speeds, yet still managed not to run. Their efficiency and ability to predict what everyone wanted in advance left Felicia breathless.

She wished she could leave a review: 10/10 Would Stay Here Again!

The party was held around 3pm and went until 8pm. There would be food, alcohol, dancing, and even games. The games were split between men and women. The men’s side was straight gambling but women gambling was considered vulgar so they played for prizes. Felicia was excited most about the games and prizes, though she was fairly sure she wouldn’t win anything.

In noble society, bootlickers never tried to win, always giving way to whoever they were pandering to. Unless she sat at a table with people Calle didn’t respect very much, the host wasn’t going to help her win at all and everything would be left to Felicia to figure out. Knowing the rules for these types of games wasn’t enough as they were card games and games of chance—gambling games without the gambling—Felicia wasn’t experienced enough to win without any help from the host.

Preparation for this party was intense. Felicia woke up early and was provided a light breakfast. She was then put through her most detailed cleaning routine ever. Nobles wiped themselves down every morning and did a full bath that included a hair wash once a week. Today she was doing a full bath, with scented water and soaps. The hair was treated with more care than usual as well. She even had her face, hands, and legs massaged. Then a light lunch. The birthday gift was checked one more time, a special birthday note added on the spot, and then the dress and makeup.

Felicia grieved when she looked at that dress. She was sadder by the time the hair and makeup were finished. Black, dark reds, and bright gold, paired with a thick black head-covering with gold embroidered into it. It was hard to describe but… she looked evil. She gave a hesitant smile in the mirror and froze. Smiling made her look even worse! What the frick! This dress was a curse!

If she had anything positive to say about it, the shape flattered her figure. As an up-side down triangle, her shoulders were prominent and her waist was just…. Not there. The corset slimmed her waist down further and the crinoline—the wired petticoat—gave her dress a distinct bell shape, giving the illusion of an hourglass figure. Well, more precisely it hid the fact she had no hips.

Underwear during this time period was…. Interesting. She’d been under the impression that corsets were evil and caused internal organ failure leading to death, but having worn one every day for weeks she discovered that wasn’t true. It was tight fitting and warm, but it was custom-tailored to her natural shape and, like fancy leather shoes, got more comfortable the longer it was worn. It forced perfect posture but didn’t interfere with breathing and was a surprisingly good bra-system, keeping “the ladies” in place perfectly.

Despite being a noble, Calle had only three corsets: one for every day use, one for fancy parties like this, and a spare for emergencies. Having more than one was considered a sign of wealth. The one she wore every day was tightened just enough to be supportive for the chest. The “party corset” was tightened as much as possible, but still just short of interfering with breathing. She had to dance and fainting during the middle of a dance due to an over-tight corset was a rookie mistake only young girls made.

The main difference between the regular corset and one used at fancy parties was shape: the party corset was designed to flatter her figure in an evening gown and bear the weight of a many-layered dress— which was much more elaborate than her regular outfits. It was the difference between a strapless pushup bra and a sports bra.

Felicia thought it was strange how everyone during her time period ragged on the corset but no one mentioned the atrocious panties— or lack thereof. They had something like bloomers, which were long pants made of breathable fabric that were tied with a string at the waist and went just below their knees. If she were a man, that would be fine, but she wasn’t a man.

Women had a monthly problem, ok? Pantie shape played a pivitol role in dealing with this problem. Without proper panties, women just rolled up old cloth and stuck it between their legs. Sometimes they used a belt system. Felicia was so scandalized by this crude way of doing things, she darkly vowed to revolutionize women's underwear.

She didn’t have many lines in the sand she wasn't willing to cross, but this was definitely one of them. The other was the deadly medical practices used in this era, but that would take a much longer time to fix. Panties were something she could deal with immediately.

It was a shame she couldn’t wear the panties she was in the process of designing with her private seamstress. Everything was still in the testing phase. As such, it was too risky to wear for formal occasions. If her panties suddenly fell off in the middle of a dance, Felicia would die from embarrassment…

Everyone would meet at the ballroom, which could hold the most people. The lowest ranked people filed in first. Why? Because every noble had to be announced before entering, those inside were required to stand during the announcement, and the hosts arrived last, making a grand entrance in front of a crowd. That meant the first people were forced to stand around for a long time, waiting for everyone else to file in afterward. The very first person into the ballroom was particularly unlucky, their names were announced to an empty room.

When Felicia saw she was first in line, her face darkened. She was going to have to remain standing inside that ballroom for well over an hour on top of dancing afterward! Her feet were going to die! Plus, being one of the first there, she would have to pretend to care about the initial guests entering! She couldn’t just find a corner and stare off into space and talk to DARS.

Curse her host! After pandering and schmoozing for years, she got in but only by this much. Being put into the ballroom first meant everyone after knew that she was considered the “lowest man on the totem pole” for this party. Getting into this party was a big deal, but being treated as the least important guest was humiliating to the host and frustrating to Felicia.

She walked in and didn’t bother smiling. As the first person, she was forced to stand in the center-front of the room near the entrance so she could greet people as they came in… wasn’t this the host’s job?! Why did Felicia have to do it? So annoying!!!!!!

Time ticked by as people filtered in. Most of the people coming were married and middle-aged or older. Seeing Marchioness Fresa, some people barely hid their smirks while others looked surprised and still others pretended she wasn’t even there. The last group rankled the host the most— even if she was the least valued guest, she was still a guest and still a proper noble! Her existence mattered!

Felicia had to suppress her host’s desire to stir up trouble just to get attention from those ignoring her—seriously, was Calle an adult or a child?—and politely greet and make small talk with people as they came in. Most who talked to her did so with the express intention to needle Calle over the fact that she was the first to enter the ballroom. Occasionally a few came over to give her a genuine, proper greeting. Once enough people were there, Felicia stealthily backed herself out of the crowd and near the wall.

Once she was near the wall, she breathed a sigh of relief. There were chairs lined up along the walls, used for resting between dances. She couldn’t sit in them yet but she could find a seat and claim it in advance, so she did.

‘Hey DARS, you think anyone coming here might be a future ally?’

[Would you like me to check?]

‘Mmmhhhmmmm.’

[I will scan each person as they enter and then let you know.]

‘Thanks! You’re wonderful, amazing, fantastic!’

[...]

She mentally coughed, embarrassed. ‘Sorry, since I can’t thank anyone properly because of my stupid host, I can only shower you with praise to compensate.’

[...so that’s why.] DARS replied blandly before gliding away to hover over people, presumably to scan them.

Felicia watched DARS and the crowd. At some point servants came out, provided cold drinks and opened the upper windows of the ballroom. Felicia grabbed a drink, relieved and audibly sighed when she felt a cool draft overhead from the open windows.

She realized in that moment the servants had timed everything perfectly. As people filed in, the crowd’s body heat caused the room’s temperature to rise. When the windows were propped open, it was just before she got uncomfortably warm. When the drinks came out, she’d just started getting thirsty. Before she knew what she wanted, the castle servants had provided it.

Mentally she was giving everyone thumbs up and five stars when her and a random servant's eyes met. They both froze in surprise. Nobles didn’t look at servants unless they wanted something or to criticize. Felicia had her drink, there was a smile on her face—which probably looked creepy, considering— and obviously didn’t need anything, so why was she staring at the servants so intently?

Felicia knew thanks to her host her behavior was really odd and making the servants feel uncomfortable. It was similar to how it feels being a cashier and having the boss of your company stare at you while taking an order from a customer. No matter how well intentioned the boss, being watched so closely was nerve wracking!

She immediately broke eye contact, looking vaguely towards the guests. No longer on the receiving end of a noble’s gaze, the servant hot-footed it out as fast as possible. Felicia felt bitter: she couldn’t even stare at a person without it having all kinds of complications attached.

Who wants to be a noble? Commoners at least had the freedom to ogle as they liked. She mentally sniffed, feeling sorry for herself.

DARS was still floating over people’s heads. Sometimes he paused for a long time at a particular one before moving on. She wondered if he was making predictions for potential allies, to see how useful they would be in the long run.

Interestingly, no one came to talk to Marchioness Fresa after the initial greetings when the group was small. Felicia thought that was good, but the longer she was left alone, the more worrying it became.

Calle was the type to insert herself into a group and force them to acknowledge her. This gave the impression she was popular or— at the very least— “known” to the right people. Felicia had been fooled too, thinking Calle must have at least a few people who liked her—even if their intentions weren’t pure—enough to initiate conversation.

But it turned out if Calle didn’t force herself in, she was treated like air. No one wanted to willingly associate with her. They all wanted, in a similar manner as Calle, to be acknowledged by the elites in their peer group. Calle wasn’t an elite, she was a sucker fish, sucking on the blood of bigger fishes in the sea to stay alive. Without a big fish to latch onto…

...she was alone.

Felicia’s mood dropped upon this realization.

Everything Calle had done to prop herself up was an illusion. There was no substance to any of it. She had no real allies, friends, or supporters. From beginning to end, people only paid attention to her if they could use her. Even her father had been the same.

How could a person be happy with this kind of shallow existence? It was no wonder Calle acted the way she did… she surrounded herself with things that would never make her happy. But because she was shallow and foolish, she couldn’t identify what would make her happy and kept repeating the same mistakes. Every repeat made her more unhappy, causing her to do more foolish things to compensate. A never ending cycle of unhappiness.

Felicia looked at the indistinct reflection in the paned glass windows of the ballroom.

‘I know we don’t agree on much, but… your method doesn’t work.’ She spoke to her host through the reflection. ‘You not only got nothing from it, you’re unhappy on top of everything else. If doing the same thing over and over doesn’t work, how about giving my way a chance? It can’t be any worse for you than this, right?’

She felt her host’s inner struggle. Pride wouldn’t let her admit she was wrong, but the despair over how things had turned out was very real. Even the most self-absorbed person would feel hurt when they realized they were unpopular and no one liked them.

‘Look, I’m not saying we’ve got to change everything all at once. I’m willing to compromise, ok?’ Seeing the host was still stubborn, she offered an olive branch, “If you’re more cooperative, I won’t scold you in the mornings anymore. How about that?’

There was a pause and the host’s emotions finally settled down, followed by an intense sense of relief. This was an implicit agreement.

Felicia eyebrows jumped in amusement.

It turned out weeks of consistent scolding proved useful. No matter how prideful Calle may be, even she must be tired of having every single fault shoved in her face at the beginning of the day. And because they shared a body and mind with Felicia as the boss, Calle couldn’t ignore the scolding, she had to bear under it, every word. The host probably viewed escaping her morning torture as a big win for a small cost.

The Duke and Duchess Maiz finally arrived. The chattering in the ballroom stopped immediately at their announcement and everyone looked towards them.

Duke Maiz walked forward holding his wife’s arm, the crowd dispersing before them. Once they were in the middle of the ballroom, he turned towards the musicians. They immediately began playing a soft melody.

“Gentleman and ladies,” Duke Maiz projected his voice so everyone could hear. “I sincerely welcome you to my beautiful wife’s 67th birthday party. I know you’ve all been waiting, so I will dispense with the pleasantries and start off the dance.” He then turned to his wife, took a single step back, bowed and offered his hand, “May I have this dance, my heart?”

Duchess Maiz blushed slightly, an adoring smile on her old face. She elegantly curtsied and replied as was custom, “It is my greatest pleasure, my strength.”

They then stepped forward, hands placed exactly where they needed to be, and began dancing with practiced ease. Those guests that were close to the Duke and Duchess took their partner's hands and began dancing along with them while the crowd all backed to the walls to give the dancers proper space. It was only after this first dance that the guests would start rotating in and out, starting from most important to least important.

As the first one to enter the ballroom, she would be the last expected to dance, unless a more favored guest asked her to the floor. By the time she was allowed to dance, she wouldn’t even be able to ask. Single women or widows didn’t ask men to dance, it was considered crass. So unless someone asked her, she would be a wallflower the entire way through.

That was fine by Felicia. The gown she was wearing was heavy and her feet were already aching from standing under the weight of it. She promptly sat down, since it was now considered acceptable to do so, with a sigh of relief.

DARS finally floated back to her side.

‘You were gone a long time…’ She commented as she watched people unconsciously avoid sitting next to her.

[There are many people and finding an ally is not easy with your host’s current unpopularity.]

Felicia could only feel depressed at the truth of his statement.

[Having searched the entire room, I finally found one person.]

‘Just one, huh? Out of all these people, only one… frick my life….’

[Technically they are a couple, but first you must get to know the one to get the other as an ally.]

‘Gotcha, who is it?’

[Countess Marron.]

Felicia furrowed her brow, trying to figure out who that was and came up empty.

‘I recognize the name but there’s no face to go along with it. It seems my host has never met her, or doesn’t remember meeting her at least.’

[That isn’t surprising because the Count and Countess Marron are both good people.]

‘Ah… naturally Calle wouldn’t do anything sensible like hang out with good people. It might make her notice her deficiencies.’ Felicia thought sarcastically, ‘So who am I trying to win over as an ally in this couple and why?’

[Count Marron is the ally you need, his wife is the way to gain his trust. As to why… Count Marron is leader of the Loyalist Faction.]

‘Never heard of it.’

[They believe power comes with inherent responsibilities. Those who ignore their responsibilities should be stripped of their power. For instance, nobles protect commoners and in return commoners obey nobles. If a noble does not protect their people, they have forfeited their right to rule. In the same way, commoners who will not obey their nobles, do not deserve any protection. Nobles protecting their people is more than just from outside threats, but also natural disasters and crime. And commoner obedience is more than doing as the noble tells them, but also actively striving to help a noble to do their job to the best of their ability.]

Felicia physically blinked in surprise.

‘...woah.... That’s a bit scandalous isn’t it? It’s basically saying that nobility doesn’t gain power through birthright but merit.’

Her host would 100% reject that premise and, if she was able, beat whoever spoke such heresy. Her whole snooty existence rested on the premise she was owed something through birthright.

[It isn’t a popular political theory, especially among your host’s peers, but it’s what the church teaches.]

‘Is it really?’

Calle had as little to do with the church as possible, so Felicia's impression of religion here was pretty vague.

[Yes, the church also teaches that all men are created by God as equals, a statement the Loyalist Faction supports and wants to get enshrined into law.]

‘Isn’t the church, like, state sanctioned or whatever? Can’t they just make the King put it into law?’

[The church has been, and will always be, a neutral party as an institution. Individuals within the church may think a certain way about this or that, but they have a policy of non-interference with the King and nobles. This avoids the possibility of the church being seen as a threat against the ruling powers, as well as granting them a greater degree of independence.]

‘But don’t Priests act as witnesses for legal stuff? That’s part of the state isn’t it?’

[Priests are trained in mediation and reconciliation, something akin to therapists in your timeline. And because they ARE a neutral party, they can be trusted for an impartial opinion when speaking in an official capacity. If someone wants to resolve a dispute outside of court, privately, they go to the church. This way, no one’s reputation will suffer if they lose. Nobles do this frequently to avoid the court system, which may result in loss of property, title reduction or removal. As to being used as witnesses in a legal capacity, the church wasn’t the one that pushed for that, it was something put into law by a prior King. Almost all laws with a religious basis came from the King’s insisting on it, not the church.]

‘Really?’ Felicia felt extremely skeptical that it was the King’s idea.

[Really. Though the church lacks political power, it has social power. As the common religion of the region, shared by surrounding countries, many in the ruling classes create laws based on this religion because they sincerely believe it and want to appease God or they are trying to appeal to those believers who are in power. The church doesn’t promote itself politically but of course benefits from the creation of such laws. Basically, it’s a win-win for both sides.’

‘Heh, I’m sure it is,’ Felicia made a face, ‘But what good is having the laws based on the church’s teachings? They even have Priests as legal witnesses and they’re worthless… I mean look what they did to my host... they let an 18 year old marry a 65 year old… bet that’s not the only time they messed up either...’

[It is rather naive to think that a Priest isn’t subject to the same foibles and flaws as the rest of mankind.]

‘Yeah but their teachings—’

[Nobles are taught to obey the King but do they?]

She pursed her lips. ‘The King is weak and he isn’t God.’

[God is more merciful than the King. That is not a weakness, but a benefit to mankind. Otherwise, wouldn’t most of the population end up dead from angering God with their sins?]

‘We’re not that bad….’

[Can you really sit there in that host, with her family, and say that without irony?]

‘If God didn’t like it, he should have done something!’

[....User.]

‘What?’

[In this timeline, God DID do something. And people chose to ignore it. Your host, before getting married, despised being told what God wanted her to do and actively ignored basic teachings, such as, ‘Treat others as you would like to be treated.’]

‘Well, what about fate, huh? We’re all forced to do whatever fate tells us. Isn’t that God’s fault?’

Felicia had originally been a deist, believing there was some kind of supreme being out there, and thus was not hostile towards religion by nature. When she found herself fixing timelines, her belief in the concept of God was strengthened, but in a direction she hadn’t expected.

She was sure fate and God was tied together somehow, but because DARS was so vague about the connection she could only guess on the details.

[I have told you in the past, fate is not inherently evil. And what you do with your fate is up to you.] DARS said with absolute calmness.

Felicia paused, subtly rebuffed by DARS unwillingness to fight her over this topic. She realized her responses weren’t right and she was far more annoyed than she should be over this topic.

‘Ugh, never mind.’ She suddenly gave up the idea of arguing in a huff, ‘I can’t think about this topic well in this host. Her hatred for the church is rubbing off on me.’

[It is good you realize you are being affected.] DARS commented neutrally before continuing. [Getting back to the main point then, Count Marron is the leader of his own political faction. Among higher and lesser nobility, his faction is not very popular. But among the lower nobility, he has quite a following. What’s more, he’s got ardent supporters within church leadership and among influential commoners. Gain his trust and you gain a vast network of support. Not everyone involved in this faction is a good person, but there is no such thing as a perfect group of people. It is enough that their goals are honorable.]

Felicia tapped her foot thoughtfully, ‘What’s Countess Marron like?’

[She loves her husband and her four children, has a gentle personality and a good sense of humor. Her last child’s birth, a daughter a year younger than Querido, almost killed her. She never recovered from it properly and had to withdraw from society for the most part. The reason why Count Marron was invited was because Duchess Maiz felt sorry for his wife. Today is a good day for Count Marron to network but also a rare time for Countess Marron to enjoy herself. That being said, she can not dance because of her poor health and her activities are limited.]

‘Her daughter is a year younger than Querido?’

[Correct.]

Felicia internally nodded, ‘I can use our kids to strike up a conversation then.’

[Ah, one more thing.]

‘Yeah?’

[In fact, their mansion is less than half a day carriage ride from where your host lives.]

‘....’

[....]

‘ARE YOU SAYING WE’RE NEIGHBORS?!’

[Yes.]

Felicia laughed to herself sourly.

Visiting neighbors was a big thing in noble society. Even if you disliked someone, you had to maintain some courtesy by at least sending a card to ask about visiting a few times a year. It was fine for the other person to turn you down, but you had to at least ask.

The Marron’s left no impression on Calle, other than knowing who they were by rank, which meant her host never sent a card. Not even a card! This was social snubbing to an extreme degree, yet she had to figure out how to approach the women the host had snubbed for years.

‘Ah host, host host host…. How many things are you going to screw up to make my life difficult? If I didn’t just promise not to scold you in the mornings…’ Felicia muttered angrily to herself.

After fretting over it for several minutes she mentally shook herself. She stood up and slowly made her way around the ballroom. It was a big room and everyone was standing near or sitting on the chairs while waiting for their turns to dance. Felicia could feel the looks of curiosity, derision, and disapproval. Without realizing it, she raised her chin and her face settled into a haughty look.

The Marron couple were on the other side of the ballroom. The Countess was sitting down, as expected of someone who was ill. She had a cup in one hand and a handkerchief in the other. Her husband was a few feet away, talking to gentlemen that Calle only vaguely recognized. The Countess had light blue hair and and steel blue eyes while her husband had sandy brown hair and dark brown eyes.

Felicia hesitated as she drew closer. She had hustled over but honestly she didn’t know what to do. Count and Marquess were equal noble ranks, but the Count had arrived at the ballroom later, meaning they were more valued guests. Etiquette demanded Calle wait for the Countess to speak first. But considering how Calle had snubbed the Countess, there was no reason for the Countess to be nice and speak to her…

“Is that Marchioness Fesa?”

“Goodness, what’s she doing on this side?”

“I thought she considered herself too good for the likes of us.”

“Perhaps she’s just passing by?”

Felicia had stopped a little bit away from the Marron’s, unsure how to approach. The women around the Countess had spotted her—well, Calle’s dress was pretty obnoxious—and had started talking about her.

They did so knowing Calle was close enough to hear everything.

The Countess glanced towards Calle curiously. There was no animosity in her eyes, which Felicia was intensely thankful for.

“I don’t think she’s passing by, isn’t she looking at us?”

“Well, I wish she’d stop it.”

“Is she here to gawk? I say, a person who arrived in the ballroom first—”

“Countess Brazo,” Countess Marron interrupted, “I heard your third son just completed his knighthood. Is he going to try for one of the Orders?”

“Hm? Oh yes, I say, we’re all quite proud of him! As to an Order…”

Countess Brazo and the other noblewomen were skillfully distracted by Countess Marron. This small act of kindness, though not very obvious, touched Felicia’s heart. The Countess could have just let them have at Calle and Felicia wouldn’t have blamed her.

After a while, the women left. Either to dance with their husbands or to talk with other noblewomen. Rotating between people in a big social gathering like this was expected. As Countess Marron was restricted in her movement, she was sometimes left by herself between rotations. It happened to be one of those times.

Felicia had simply stood there stupidly, ignored by everyone, waiting. The moment all the women had left she took a single step forward. At the same time, Count Marron approached his wife and began whispering a conversation with her. She almost thought it was a coincidence but then realized the Count had positioned his body between herself and the Countess.

Calle’s nostrils flared in annoyance, ‘Am I a monster? I’m not gonna eat your wife, ok? Jeesh!’

“Marchioness Fresa, did you want to have a word with me?”

Caught by surprise, Calle’s whole body momentarily froze. The Countess had taken the initiative, decent nobles really did exist in this world!

Count Marron didn’t look happy, blatantly giving Calle the stink eye.

Seeing she had not gotten an immediate response, the Countess looked a little embarrassed, “Was I mistaken? Pardo—”

“I came to speak with you.” Felicia walked over as fast as possible and, without being polite, immediately sat down next to her.

The Countess couldn’t help leaning away, a little surprised. The Count’s stink eye turned into lazers, ready to shoot holes through her head at the first opportunity.

“Does the Count need something?” Felicia said, directly meeting his gaze. As per their agreement, her host was not overly aggressive, but maintained a mild tone. It helped she was talking to her social peers.

The Count’s brow furrowed slightly, then smoothed. “I am just curious what brought you over here.”

“I was invited to this party by the Duchess and as this is a party I should talk with people. Countess Marron is a person, is she not? Naturally, I would speak with her.”

Count Marron’s face twitched slightly. This was the equivalent of saying “I got the right to be here as much as you, watch goin’ do about it, fight me?” and they both knew it. Felicia was aware she wasn’t winning any friends being this way, but if she was too sweet right up front, that would be even more suspicious.

The Countess’ eyebrows raised slightly and she cast her husband a knowing look. The kind of look that says, ‘Don’t butt in, this is women’s business’. The Count, a well trained husband, got the message.

After hesitating for a moment, he cheered up and said in self-deprecating good humor, “I see. Then I will not let my male boorishness get in the way of your delicate ladyship's refined conversation.”

When he walked away, the Countess had a slight smile on her face.

She turned to Calle and spoke in a gentle voice, “Marchioness Fresa, it has been quite some time since I last spoke with you. How have you been?”

Felicia wondered if Calle had spoken to her and forgotten, or if the Countess was just being polite. She hoped it was the latter…

“I have been doing well…” She paused and then decided to throw all her eggs in the basket at once. Lowering her voice so that people could not easily overhear, she spoke awkwardly, “To tell you the truth, I have just dismissed the governess teaching my son, Querido.”

The Countess blinked and asked, “Your son is only a year older than my Tanny, correct? I’m a little surprised you got him a governess so early.”

“I thought that starting his education early would be beneficial but…” Felicia channeled the real worry she had for Querido’s mental and physical well being onto her face, “...the governess was much harsher than I was expecting.”

She was betting that the Countess had a soft spot for children, and by proxy mothers who fret over their children. Showing her vulnerability as a mother would, from Felicia’s guess, be a way to hook the Countess and raise the low opinion she likely had for Calle.

Sure enough, the Countess looked troubled. “If you don’t mind me asking, how harsh was the governess?”

Calle looked down at her lap, at her soft hands carrying ugly gold rings, and her shoulders lowered slightly.

“I found bruising.”

The Countess gasped, “Then— then it is good you dismissed her!”

Calle fiddled with her overly ornate rings, clearly anxious.

“I have dismissed her, but because of my— my— negligence,” Felicia had to force the word out, the host really didn’t want to let it through, “he has already suffered. How many times must he suffer? His father is dead. He was born early and sickly. I am his Guardian but I have been too busy… now this. How can my son grow up healthy and strong having suffered so much?”

That Marchioness Fresa admitted to a fault in public, to someone she barely knew, was enough to leave the Countess momentarily speechless. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing outside and wondering if it was raining fish today.

After seeing clear skies, the Countess came back to herself. Feeling this whole thing was really strange, she couldn’t help asking, “Marchioness Fresa, why are you telling me this?”

“I know many people, but not… not many who are good mothers.” Calle clasped her hands together, continuing to look at her lap, and trembled slightly. “I am… I am trying to be a good mother but I don’t… I don’t know… how.”

There was a long silence and then the Countess asked in slight disbelief, “Are you… Marchioness, are you by any chance asking for my help?”

Calle gave a solid nod.

A moment later, a thin but delicate hand reached out and covered her own.

“Of course, of course I will help you Marchioness Fresa.”

Felicia glanced at the Countess and found a pair of compassionate blue eyes looking at her.

“...your help would be much appreciated.” Felicia whispered, just barely loud enough for the Countess to hear. This was the closest her host had ever let her come to saying “thank you” to someone and she felt a small mental relief at finally being able to express some form of gratitude.