An Anne Interlude

The trip to the little town was familiar to Anne by now.

She had little in the way of luggage, merely a change of clothes and sleepwear. She had a purse with her with some money for emergencies and maybe something nice for her dear lady, but that was kept buried in the bottom. Alice had no use or desire for her money.

They neared the house, and Anne was getting ready to step down when there was a knock on the wood from the driver.

Frowning in confusion, Anne stuck her head out the window of the still-moving vehicle. "Yes, Carver? What is it?"

The carriage driver pointed. "Is the door supposed to be open like that?"

The words chilled Anne. Alice always kept the door closed and locked. She raised herself up, mindful of the bumps on the road, and tried to see.

Even from this distance, she could tell on of the windows of the first floor had been broken into.

"Carver, drive up to the house please," Anne said, her voice defaulting to the flat, emotionless voice it always did when she had learned it was safer to hide her feelings from the man who'd sired her. "And keep an eye out. With the club."

The carriage driver nodded. Anne saw one of the light crossbows that was stored next to the driver had been taken out and drawn.

The carriage stopped in front of the house and Anne got down, clutching a club that had been stored under the carriage's seat. There had been other weapons in there, but she didn't know how to use them, and so had taken this one.

The door was slightly ajar, swaying with the wind. Anne quickly circled the house. There was no other movement from it, not from any of the windows, either upstairs or downstairs. It all seemed still and abandoned.

The ice inside Anne got colder and started creeping towards her heart.

She moved back to the front of the house and hesitantly pushed open the door…

Maria rode a leather saddle under the blazing sun, and wore no shining stars. No miscreants appeared to offer her battle, and she wondered if there were any nearby at all, near or far. Last night's encounter with Sadako, imbuing with fear of death and letting her at least partially conquer her hate of her current life, made the knight look out optimistically over the day to come.

And so she rode her leather saddle to the town of Estus near the Academy, and needed no torch to light her way.

While she and Sophia had divided duties between themselves such that Maria mostly stayed at her manor,

The town's blacksmith workshop was full of smiths as usual, masters, journeymen, and apprentices, all working on various tasks. Even to her admittedly unversed eye, many of the latter seemed to be engaged in busywork. Needful busywork, as it probably WAS necessary to ensure that tools were organized… but busywork nonetheless.

She detected a change in mood as she came closer, however, and though no work was interrupted, some of it was handed off to journeymen and juniors as the head blacksmith came forward. The smiths, no matter their mastery, seemed eager, He didn't rush out to meet her like a sycophant, but stood in welcome at the front of his smithy as she secured her horse.

"Your ladyship," he said, voice gruff but polite. "Do you have a new project for us?"

"Not right now, Master Aegon," Maria said, "But sometime in the near future. In the meantime, I would like to make you and yours an offer. I am in need of skilled smiths for a manufactory for the creation of devices of which you might be familiar."

"Hmm…" the head smith said. He didn't have a beard, but if he did he would likely have been stroking it. "Would you like to step inside and speak of this privately, your ladyship?"

"That is exactly why I am here, Master Aegon," Maria said. "While my offer is open to all who wish to take it, I hope to ask all who contributed to my humble little commissions. You once mentioned something about a clockmaker…?"

That had been a fruitful morning.

Maria hadn't insisted that they make a decision right away. The building for the manufactory, not to mention the new dormitory for the blacksmiths (since they would need to move to work for her) and the royal guard, would still take some time to finish. She gave them a week to think it over and hopefully allow those who chose to accept to arrange their affairs to their satisfaction. The married blacksmiths were unlikely to take the invitation, and she almost hoped they didn't since it would likely mean extended quarters for their families.

The bigger question was the tools they would need. When Maria had asked, she had been given a list that started with 'anvils and a whole lot of hammers' and ended with strange, esoteric things that apparently only a smith could properly build for himself. Which was fine since as most of those likely to accept were journeymen hoping to become masters and apprentices hoping to become journeymen, they'd have to make those tools for themselves anyway.

Their requirement that the building have sufficient light and be hard to catch on fire was duly noted though.

A thought came to her, and she sighed as she realized she would have to keep the younger blacksmiths away from her older wards, who were… unlikely to welcome such attention. Perhaps a separate kitchen, to provide their meals for them… and a separate bathing and laundry facility…

Another list was made up of things Maria needed to build for her manor and need souls to build with as she turned her horse– who also needed a name, she realized– back towards her lands.

When she returned, there was a carriage with a familiar crest at her gate. For some reason, it was dusty as if it had been riding hard, even though the trip from the Claes Duchy wasn't that long.

As she drew closer though, something struck her as strange about the sight. She frowned in thought, then felt a chill as a she saw a thin plume of dark smoke that seemed to pass through the carriage's roof. Quickly, she drew her pistol, broke open a paper twist of priming powder and snapped the frizzen and hammer into place.

She rode even with the carriage and to her surprise found Anne Shelley in heated– for her– discussion with one of Maria's armsmen, who was telling her she was not allowed entry despite being on a Claes carriage as she was not Katarina Claes, who was pretty much the only Claes her men recognized. Thankfully the plume of dark smoke did not seem to be coming from Miss Shelley's head.

"Miss Shelley?" she called, drawing the maid's attention. She was not wearing her maid uniform, instead wearing a plain but well-kept dress that flattered her figure. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"Lady Campbell," Miss Shelley said, sounding genuinely distressed in a way Maria hadn't heard since Katarina fell into her Dark Magic-induced slumber. "Praise the sun that you have returned. Something has happened to your mother."

Had Maria been standing on her own two feet, she might have embarrassed herself by lunging at Miss Shelley and taking a painful and deserved grip on her neck. Seated on her horse, however, Maria merely almost fell off her saddle as she tried to move and was unable to. So instead she straightened and level a stare at Miss Shelley. "What has happened to her?" she said in a deadly quiet voice.

Miss Shelley seemed intimidated for some reason. She took a deep breath as if steeling herself. "I… went to visit your mother this morning, as I had been given leave from my duties. When I arrived however, I saw that a window was broken and the front door was ajar. I was concerned and entered. I found the dining room in disarray, as well as the landing at the head of the stairs. Your mother's room was open and I found…"

Wordlessly, Miss Shelley held a sheet of paper rolled into the shape of a scroll towards her. The plume of black smoke rose from it, completely saturating its form. Maria took it. Her hands were shaking. Why was her hand shaking? Perhaps it was some sort of sympathetic reaction with Miss Shelley, whose hand was shaking as well. How very queer.

As soon as she held it, she knew.

The darkness of abyssal smoke was thick upon the paper, such that she almost couldn't decipher the writing upon it. The letters were malformed, as if written by a child who had neglected to practice their letters.

'you hurt me I hurt you'

Maria's scream of rage rose from some place deep within her like the roar of a beast. She could taste blood in her throat as she kicked her horse into a gallop, towards the house that, even now, she considered home.

Bonus Material!

A (Cut, No Longer Canon) Third Prince Interlude (Yes, even in his own interlude, he doesn't get a name)

He had wasted a lot of time unconscious. Fortunately, he hadn't been the only one. Unfortunately, the most dangerous one, Keith Claes, hadn't been among their number. He had been neither a prince nor an official, and his concern had already been met, so he'd cheerfully made his way to the guest room assigned to him to sleep until morning, the lucky bastard (literally and figuratively).

He himself had spent most of the following day asleep, and then the day after that dealing with the aftermath of the intruder. The ones who had been subjected to dark magic had been declared cleared of its influences and sworn to secrecy on the matter. Lacking anything else to talk about, they had proceeded to inflate Lady Maria's skills to truly frightening proportions, all of them swearing up and down it was true and that was how they had been defeated.

Most of the other guardsmen had merely humored them and stood them drinks for taking wounds in honorable battle. They were most interested in whatever weapon had managed to penetrate their armor though, and already rumors and interest were rising, kept barely in check by the commanders who had been informed of the new weapon. If nothing else, this had shown the damage the new gehrmans could do in capable hands.

And this was with the version that had to be manually reloaded. He looked forward to seeing how effective the six-shots were…

…which was unlikely to happen within the next three decades unless he usurped his father or someone foolishly declared war on them.

In another life, he might had done just that out of sheer boredom.

But not in this one.

Smiling to himself in the privacy of his carriage, he pulled out the case containing the engagement ring again. It was woefully, woefully late, but better late than never. He would pit it on his Katarina's finger, making her his, and they could soon be wed now that there was no school or anything else to stop him! His Katarina would be his in truth and law, and it will be so wonderful…!

Then after that would be the slow work of slowly whittling away the things that distracted his Katarina away from him. Though he might let her keep Lady Campbell. The rare– and obviously insane– person who was not attracted to his Katarina after prolonged contact was a treasured amusement too good to miss!