"Things are proceeding as you designed, my master. The Loyalists are being pushed back, and soon their only stronghold will be their tomb. While our agents in Tristian have inserted themselves into many positions of power, the Queen is too busy mourning to notice our efforts and the Regent is unable to catch all of them."

"And of our agent, Fouquet? I do not believe we have gotten a report from her in some time."

I believe she has had some success stealing minor artifacts and our agents acquiring blackmail material. But she has yet to steal the Staff of Destruction, her main objective."

"If you need to, remind her, of who we have, and what happens if she fails, during your mission to Tristian, then I would see no issues."

"You are the most cruel, my master. And what should I do if she does fail?"

"If she fails to live up to the expectations she has set, then there would be no issue using her as an asset one last time. After all, where would you think they'd take one of the most famous theirs of our time if they were arrested? A mage of her capabilities would make for an excellent distraction, would she not?"

"So I have permission to use the ring, my master?"

"Within reason, yes. I'd rather avoid tipping too much of our hand so soon."

"Of course, my master."

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I was starting to get curious as to why there were so many vases and pots filled with water scattered throughout the castle. There had to be a reason for it. Some type of anti-fire system, perhaps? Water magic seemed like an effective solution to such measures, but I suppose it didn't hurt to have a backup plan.

Of course, in a world with magic, they could be signs of countless other things. Of what, I didn't know. Magic was completely out of my wheelhouse. I knew nothing of the specifics of how it worked, what rules it followed, and what its limits were. I'd learned about the basic elemental square of fire, earth, water, and wind, a nice little Avatar reference, only that a person could pick up all the other elements with skill and practice. But that was mostly through people talking about things around me when they think I couldn't hear them.

What? I was a maid. The amount of stuff you heard in an average day was, staggering. Nobody paid you any mind. You were just a servant, nobody important, who cared if you heard anything. The only thing that didn't make this fun was the complete lack of context I had for what I heard on an average day. This place leaked like a four-inch sieve some days!

Maybe that was just how medieval politics went. Either way, I don't think I'd heard anything all that interesting. Or all that dangerous for that matter. Well, nothing that was obviously dangerous, like plots to overthrow the Queen or things of that nature. Sure, she was, for better lack of a word, a mess, though that was a private thought, but regicide? That was something I'd blow the whistle on in a heartbeat.

Because it sounded like the international situation was an even hotter mess at the moment, and that wouldn't do anything to help stability. Plus, I doubt Henrietta would take having her mom die well. Most people don't, even if the relationship could be a bit, complicated. Plus, leaving the Kingdom to a child, one that would likely be depressed, even if the good Cardinal kept his position, wouldn't be great either.

But thankfully, I'd yet to hear any indication of such talk. There is probably a lot of corruption that should be tipped off to the proper people. Possibly corruption. I was, a bit unsure of if it was or not. By my standards, most likely, but I was from a completely different world, with largely different standards. It was best that I keep my head down, and don't stir things up. What I consider corruption might just be the norm. I wasn't familiar with how things worked in the period leading up to the industrial revolution, other than, expect murder in the court.

Things seemed more stable. Maybe this weird magistracy helped keep things stable? But I doubt it would last. The Industrial Revolution was likely inching its way forward, and all the social change that would bring with it. I might have been able to help get Tristian ahead of the curb. But I wasn't an engineer. Machines and all the necessary innovations that allowed the Industrial Revolution to happen weren't exactly part of my wheelhouse. I might be able to give pointers, such as building factories next to rivers until steam power took off, but beyond that?

Provided, you know, people listen to the weird servant girl. Which was not a given, thanks to the whole, nobles with magic thing. Henrietta probably would, and I'd probably talk about some of the things I heard from her at some point. I just needed to find the time. It wasn't like she had a lot of free time as Princess, I'd imagine. Even if she wasn't the crown Princess, there were probably a range of diplomatic functions and other important business she needed to deal with.

I let out a slight sigh, knowing nobody was around to hear the slight breach of propriety, as I watered the plant inside a beautiful vase. There were hundreds of these things, at least it felt like it, all about the castle. They were very pretty plants, too, with bright flowers. Either a gift from some far-off foreign country or something a bit more local. I had no way of really knowing which was the case.

Still, it was best to make sure all the plants got the necessary water. I know others were taking up the task as well, but that wasn't any excuse for me to slack off.

I took a step away from the vase, preparing to turn towards the door. Only for my back to hit something. My blood ran cold. I hadn't heard someone enter the room. Were they a Noble of some sort?

I turned around to apologize, only to find, nothing. There was no person standing behind me. That was strange. I could have sworn I'd bumped into something. Was it a ghost? I'd say that was impossible, but magic existed here, and so did things like griffins. Who was to say a ghost was far-fetched?

But would I have felt something physical? On Earth, the ghost hypothesis made that maybe, even at the best of times. But there was something there. A faint, nearly imperceptible flicker, that looked like it was fading in and out.

Okay, ghost or no ghost, that was probably a sign to leave. As in, right this very second. I immediately began heading towards the door, only to find something cold pressed against my throat. Fingers began to wrap their way around the back of my neck as I stood perfectly still.

Was I, going to die? Were they even speaking? Blood thundered in my ears and my heart beat like an engine. Think. Think! I needed to get whatever blade they were using away from my neck, then break their hold. Or was it to break their hold on the knife? I needed time, needed to think! I. I.

"Would you like paper or plastic?"

Oh God, those couldn't be my last words. I refuse to let those be my last words.

"What?" A voice said from behind me, grip loosening as I scanned the ground. That's, good enough, I suppose. I raised my foot, before stomping down. Hard.

The thing holding the back of my throat screamed in pain as my shoe found its foot, the blade falling away as I turned.

Objectively speaking, whoever or whatever they were, I was hopelessly outmatched. With a weapon, I could probably take them. But I didn't exactly have one of those on hand.

What I did have was a pitcher of water, a whole lot of adrenaline, and the element of surprise. And the ability to throw a punch.

"You little bitch! I would have left you alive," the voice, that of a man said, until the point where I'd cut him off. Smashing a pitcher against someone's face as hard as possible made it hard to talk.

If the first scream didn't tell somebody that something was going wrong, then the second certainly should have. Hopefully, that would get someone moving right along.

"You will die for that commoner," ice began to fill the room, even spreading out from the pitcher in my hand. I promptly lobbed it at the man, for all the good it would do. Of course, there would be magical assassins. Just my damn luck. Was there anything I could use, even as an impromptu weapon? The room was fairly bare. There wasn't much that could be useful. Except for a single spear.

It looked purely decorative, but what else was I supposed to do? Please let this work. Please let this work. I wrapped my fingers around the weapon.

Then the room exploded. The door came completely off its hinges, knocked aside by some type of weird, magical bullet. It caught the man by surprise as it impacted his chest, detonating in a windstorm that knocked me off my feet, tumbling against the tile floor. I tucked my head against my chest as I was sent rolling backward. Using the momentum, I slapped the ground with my arms, cutting most of the roll as I threw my legs over my shoulder, allowing what was left to carry me back onto my feet, if somewhat unsteadily.

Once my vision stopped spinning, I was able to look at what had happened. My assailant was slumped against the wall. He was, unconscious. Yeah, that was the case. Unconscious.

Standing in the middle of the room was a man, sword pointed towards the downed assassin. His hair was silver, almost grey, complete with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. I couldn't get a good look at his eyes, but he wore a blue hat with a white feather in it. His outfit, outside of the black cape, was different shades of blue, from light to dark.

"Viscount Wardes!" in came soldiers wearing proper heavy armor, clanking reverberating off the walls. "We heard the commotion. What is going on here?"

"I believe one of the maids stumbled across an infiltrator and managed to distract him," the Viscount's voice was harsh, but there was an underlying smoothness to it. "He's injured, but alive. Take him to the dungeon and try and keep him that way. We'll need to find out why he is here, and who sent him."

"And what about the girl?" I'd long since slipped out of what could pass as a fighting stance, hoping to pass myself off as just a nervous and freaked-out member of the staff. Which, to be fair, wasn't going to be a hard sell.

Because holy shit, I nearly died! I. Nearly died. I could have died. I could have died so very, very easily right there. My breath hitched in my throat. I. I needed to breathe, needed to think, no not think. Breath. Just. Breath. In and out. In and out. I was alive. That was all that mattered.

"Are you okay?" the Viscount's voice broke through my thoughts, his eyes the same shade of silvery grey as his hair. He wasn't in my personal space, but I blushed all the same. In part, because I was embarrassed needing to be snapped out of my thoughts like that.

But also because he was, surprisingly handsome. Sure, he was probably several years my senior, based on the beard, but he wasn't exactly hard on the eyes, either.

"I'm unhurt, sir, if that is what you are asking," I said softly, shifting my feet. "I'm a bit shaken up is all. I'd, never experienced anything like that before."

"I see," the man paused for a moment. "May I ask exactly what happened? It might make explaining why this got a bit beat up a bit easier with the Head Maid."

A flick of his wand sword nearly made me flinch, as he levitated over the pitcher of water towards my hands. I winced, looking at it. The pitcher had no doubt seen better days, with the part I'd hit the man with bent completely out of shape, no part of the original surface remaining where it had been. Ice still covered the exterior, spikes of ice jutting through the metal, leaving everything but the handle irrecoverable. Maybe there was a magical fix?

"I was watering the plants, as instructed. As I finished, I bumped into someone, but I couldn't see anyone. When I was looking around, I saw something, flickering, near where I bumped into them. I went to leave, hoping to find someone, really, only for the man to hold a weapon to my throat," I started slowly, making sure to measure my words carefully. "He then held a weapon to my throat. I couldn't see what it was. It could have been a knife, but, I couldn't tell. He grabbed me by the back of my throat and, I think he might have said something, but I was scared. Panicking. If he did, I didn't hear it."

"I was panicking, and scared, and I didn't want him to kill me, so I stepped on his foot," I continued.

"You, stepped on his foot?" Viscount Wardes raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir. I think I was thinking that maybe, if I created enough noise, then maybe someone would rescue me," I said, still nervous. "Where you the one that created that wind?"

Was that the wrong question to ask? Was I even supposed to be asking questions like that?

"Indeed I am. Viscount Wardes, at your service," the man tipped his hat slightly, and this time I blushed for real. Shit. He's charming.

"Thank you for saving me," I bowed slightly.

"It is an honor. Though you have done the Kingdom a great service this day," Viscount Wardes returned the gesture, as I felt even more heat rise on my face. He was really charming. "Though I must ask, what happened after you stepped on his foot? I heard two yells of pain, and I don't think either came from you."

"I, panicked, and hit him in the face, with the pitcher," when I said it out loud, it sounded completely ridiculous. And yet, that was exactly what happened.

"I see," the tone of his voice sounded a bit, incredulous. Even if it was the truth. "Well, in that case."

He waved his wand, sword, thing, and the ice swiftly began to melt, as the pitcher began to return to its proper shape.

"I will make sure to tell the Head Maid about what has transpired, as well as the other necessary authorities. Aiding in the apprehension of an unknown infiltrator is no small feat. Thank you for your service, Miss," Viscount Wardes paused, asking for my name.

"Aimee, sir," I stubbled over the name, just about giving away my old one. Please let him interpret that as me being nervous about giving a noble my name.

"Aimee. I will try to remember that," the man nodded, heading towards the door. "And you can just call me Wardes if you wish."

"I, will try to remember that as well, Viscount Wardes," I tried to make myself sound as polite as possible. Viscount Wardes chuckled before he slipped out the door.

I looked down at the pitcher. Quite frankly, given what had happened, I would likely be able to wrangle my way into time off.

But that meant I'd have to think about what the absolute hell that was, and I'd rather not do that right now. So many people were going to get pissed off by this. I was supposed to lay low, not get into fistfights with magical, assassin, wizard, people. I mean, hopefully, Wardes would be willing to take most of the credit, because he was the one to do most of the work.

I made my way out the door. Work would help take my mind off things.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

That had proven, fairly unenlightening. Well, not entirely so. Aimee was incredibly polite, or at least was willing to behave as such. And if she was hostile then she was, at the very least, not working with whoever sent the assassin in the first place. That was something he would need to look into. If rebels were that assured in their victory, or this desperate to stir up trouble, then that was something to be addressed.

If not? Then there was likely a traitor, somewhere in Tristian. And that couldn't, and shouldn't, stand. Whoever sent him, Wardes needed to know. It could help determine who Aimee herself had been summoned by. Albion was fairly unlikely, now that he had given it some thought. But that could only mean one thing. Unless the Pope had sent their familiar, and she was the wrong gender for that, it meant that Tristian's void mage had summoned their familiar. But who was it? Henrietta seemed like an obvious choice, as she was around Aimee quite a bit, but that felt almost too straightforward of an answer.

Perhaps he had stepped in too soon? No, it wasn't worth it. Others had heard the fighting and were coming to investigate. This kept the secret of her skill just as hidden as it was before, and he would still be able to observe her.

He just hoped he was the only one who saw that whole fight.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

That's why big sis liked Aimee so much! She was some type of soldier maid or something! She just, beat up the int, intrud, the bad person! With nothing but a pitcher of water! She could have done it, but she was a water mage. Aimee?

Aimee was a commoner! Like Agnes! Agnes was good at keeping Henrietta safe. So that meant Aimee must have been like Agnes, but hidden. Hidden, but everyone could see her!

She should probably keep that revelation to herself. If that was what she was hired to do, then it would be best to not tell anyone. That would ruin the surprise, after all!

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You!" Agnes pinched her brow. "At least you didn't get seriously hurt. You didn't get cut or stabbed, right?"

"As far as I can tell, no," I said, crossing my arms. "And before you say anything, my mother was a nurse. I know infections aren't something to mess around with."

"Or poison," Agnes said, and I paused. I hadn't considered that. Which made it a really good thing I double check to make sure I didn't get any scratches. I hadn't. Just bruises.

"Still checked," I grumbled, as Agnes just shrugged. Frankly, between the two of them, I'm not sure who was taking the news worse. Agnes or Henrietta. Okay, it was Henrietta. I wasn't exactly the strongest person in the world and had no shame in admitting that fact, but was starting to think Henrietta was strong enough to use me as a weight if she so desired. Her death grip around my midsection was both impressive and terrifying.

"One way or another, rumors are probably going to spread like wildfire, once this gets out, and it's only a matter of time it does," Agnes paced back and forth. I would have joined her, but I had a limpet currently attached to me.

"Plus Aimee needs a way to defend herself," Henrietta cut in, causing Agnes to turn around.

"Princess, I don't think maids are allowed to carry a knife capable of hurting someone outside of the kitchen," Agnes spoke calmly. "And knives are among the most concealable weapons out there. I don't see any way to amend the rules, either. Not after something like this. If simply out of the safety of you and your family."

"I know of one that's a bit more concealable, and not as deadly," I spoke up, their gaze turning towards me. "They're called brass knuckles. It's this band of metal that you can put your fingers through, and when you punch someone, you're hitting them with the metal, instead of the bones in your hand."

"That, sounds like an interesting idea," Agnes spoke first. "Though I've never heard of such a weapon."

"They aren't, particularly a soldier's weapon," I did know of some modification made a spike that saw use in trench warfare, but I wasn't looking for something with killing power. "They're more used when you need to hurt someone, rather than run the risk of letting them bleed out."

"Would it work with the runes?" Henrietta asked the question that was likely the first one on everyone's mind. And the answer was most likely.

"I wouldn't see why not, though I don't know if there are any blacksmiths that could make such equipment, and even if I could find one, you'd have to keep them hidden on your person," Agnes frowned. "Or just, hidden in general. I don't know what the reaction would be if you're discovered carrying those would be."

"I mean, we could lean into the rumors," I said, the two giving me confused looks. "Look, the cat's already out of the bag, and it's only a matter of time before someone finds it. So maybe we lean into that, as some type of bodyguard disguised as a maid. Nothing directly confirmed, but kind of in a tongue-and-check sort of way. Not even aim it at me specifically, but just a sort of, yes, some of the maids are trained to protect the Royal family, that sort of thing."

I could practically hear Henrietta's eyes sparkling, as she clapped her hands together. As much as she could, anyway, without losing her grip. Agnes, on the other hand, sounded exasperated.

"That sounds terribly fictitious."