Standing in the middle of the Witness Circle alongside Geneva as we direct the servants of the James family in setting up tables, a stuffy feeling fills my chest. The best way I can describe it is a mix of dread and nostalgia. It accompanies thoughts of what my life could have been.

The noblewomen of the capital don’t have many responsibilities. It used to be, in the time of the kingdom’s founding, that the women were just as much warriors as the men. They had to be to survive the Great War. I imagine the fledgling Harvest resembled Victory in their attitude. They had to conquer the continent. There was no other option. Victory or death.

It happened that it was best for the ladies to remain in the conquered territory to protect their new cities and growing families. With humanity routed and their numbers dwindling, large families were heavily encouraged. Motherhood became a duty more than a choice.

After a few generations, duty became tradition. Now, it’s a rare thing for ladies of Summer Spire to take up arms. Magic is seen as a hobby, a high coefficient and a powerful spell used for party tricks rather than slaying enemies.

It’s a rare thing for a daughter to take up arms. Practically unheard of for a lady. The exceptions are usually young peasant girls with few prospects who would rather fight monsters than end up in more unsavory careers.

A noblewoman’s pride is her family. Its wealth, prestige, and most importantly, its talents. Her role is to give birth to many children and guide their upbringing. She also represents the house in social gatherings, as the men are expected to be busy gathering achievements. Neither of which requires martial ability.

If a madman never snatched me from the King’s Road, it would be a future I would have to seriously consider. I might have dreamed of wandering the kingdom, doing odd jobs in whatever village I passed through for food and shelter, but I don’t know if the old me could have done it. That’s a hard life.

Back then, I didn’t have the strength to be so carefree. My ability as a summoner is real but my current contracts are a cheat. Without this god-given body of mine…I don’t know what kind of contract I would have made. It certainly wouldn’t have been to a creature as powerful or capable as Geneva.

As useful as it is, summoning doesn’t pay the bills. Father sent me to the Grand Hall with the expectation that I would work to stay. Odds are I would have left after a year or two. Then I would have had two choices; go my own way or return to the capital and play the part expected of me.

I want to say I’d never stoop to exchanging a marriage of convenience for an easy life but the truth is, two years ago, I thought about it. Usually with dread and distaste, but I thought about it. Under the suppression of the Grimoire family, the only chance of enjoying any form of status and luxury would be through joining a family of equal power.

If I had, arranging and attending events like the one I’m preparing would be my whole life. I suppose this is making me sentimental because I thought I would never be doing anything like this after my rebirth. How funny life is. Ah, well. I don’t mind so much if I’m playing wifey to a dashing Alana.

Hm. I wonder if I should consider doing a little more like this in the future. We are not done with the north but Alana has given up being the Duchess of Victory. It makes me wonder what she will do in the future. I can’t imagine her doing something as simple and unremarkable as joining a knight order, especially one not of the north. Far too tame.

Beyond that, what else is there for an aspiring hero to do in a peaceful kingdom? If becoming a knight is too tame, joining a city’s guard is a joke. The royal army is just as funny. They likely spend more time doing drills than fighting.

What’s left? Being a hunter? Impossible, unless we start our own guild. Ah. That’s not bad. Guildmaster Alana James. Bringing a bit of the north to the south. We’ll need something to do with our imminent influx of wealth. I’m liking it more and more. I’ll have to bring it up once we leave. Give the wounds inflicted by her home some time to scab over.

“I brought the seadog, my love.”

Earlier, I sent my sullen elf on an errand in hopes of lifting her spirits. Her tone hasn’t improved but she looks much better than the haggard pirate son walking beside her. His face is lined with exhaustion and his appearance is scruffy. A hand absently scratches at his uneven beard as his tired eyes meet my own. “You needed me, captain?”

“…you look like a titan swallowed you and shat you out whole.”

“Several weeks of running through ankle-high snow and not sleeping on a decent bed, interspersed with over a dozen life-threatening fights will do that.” Heh. If this was the old Arthur, he would already be cursing me. The new Arthur, despite his annoyance with me, doesn’t dare.

Whatever grievances he has, he keeps them deep in his heart and keeps a respectful demeanor. Always amazes me how different he is. It makes clouding a few memories look like child’s play.

“How is the army?”

His eyes move to Geneva, who is busy directing the servants. “Would it not be easier to ask your pet?”

“I’m keeping them on a short leash.” While Bell may seem innocent, she is more Geneva’s creature than my own. All the succubi contracted to this realm are. “Besides, I want your perspective. The army’s perspective.”

He sighs. “Well, if I had to say, confused? They want to hate you but they’re about to get paid and none of their friends died, which is more than most expected. You’re also strong, so hating you is life-threatening, but if they forgive and forget, they betray a lifetime of gratitude to the guilds and their fallen comrades. They could also be fighting for their lives to stop you from robbing them in a few months. Aye, confused sums it up.”

Confused, huh. Suppose that’s better than angry. “That’s the hunters? What about the knights?”

“Wouldn’t know. They abandoned us as soon as we returned. Didn’t make any friends there. Most crews don’t make nice without good reason.”

Good news? At least I don’t have to worry about their attitudes. Or maybe I do. Bulliard implied there would be incidents.

“They aren’t the types to gossip. Not that we had time to. We had to scarf down dinner before the fire was put out and who has the energy to chat while sprinting? From the little I heard, they seemed annoyed to be on such a small campaign but impressed with blondie, er, Alana. She didn’t make any grievous errors and they loved having your creature prancing through the camp, waving away injuries. Heard a few whispers about the Stars keeping Alana so they can keep it.”

No one can fault them. “And the little job I asked you to do?”

“The hero.” Arthur scoffs. “What can I say? He still hates you. Still thinks Alana is being deceived. Still thinks your creature is evil, which isn’t wrong.”

“That is wrong.” Geneva is not evil. She is amoral. She has no concept of good and evil. Only what benefits her. If it will bring her benefits, she can be saintly. It just happens that “evil” gets her what she wants faster most times.

“Not surprised you’re defending it,” he mutters so softly it can’t even be called a whisper. Conscious of my hearing but underestimating my abilities. “He’s calmed down,” Arthur says louder. “Shifted his priorities. He’s finally realized that if he wants to be better than you, he has to get serious. He’s dedicating himself to growing stronger. Won’t make trouble until he’s ready to take you down.”

Won’t make trouble? I’ll believe it when I see it. Ah, well. At least this means I don’t have to worry about killing the kingdom’s most valuable asset accidentally. I had real concerns that he’d end up as collateral damage when the north demands its due from Quest. It’s easy to imagine him trying to fend off the “villain” harassing the innocent hunters. Never mind they got themselves into this mess.

“Good, good. Go on back and tell everyone that we’re holding the Rites for Alana’s army. The northerners will know what the means. For everyone else…tell them it’s a funeral with drinks. Except we’re not burning any bodies so I guess it’s less funeral and more drinks. Ah. Since it’s where they’re usually paid, they should already know what’s going on. Just tell people.”

“Aye, captain. Sure thing.”

“Arthur?” I call as he starts walking off. He turns his head. “I’m not blind to your efforts.” Loyalty deserves a reward if you want servants to stay loyal. If I can throw pieces of myself to the succubi, I can give the pirate son a favor or two for his dedicated service.

“Can I look forward to it?” he asks, not waiting for a response before going on his way.

Two long arms loop around my neck and a weight leans on my back. “He is your first soldier,” Kierra mutters into my ear. “Treat him well.”

“My first? What about our servants?”

“You said it yourself. They are servants. Guard dogs, not tracking dogs. I know hunters that raise the latter. They must be let into the wild. Their loyalty must be crafted carefully if you want them to come back.”

“I’ll treat him well.” I raise a hand to stroke her cheek. “You going to let me treat you well?”

She leans into the touch with a deep hum. Then she pulls away.

I watch her walk away with a sigh.