"I'm glad to see you again, Your Highness. How have these past months been?" —said Angelica, her tone firm, worthy of a Redgrave, before adding quickly—: "I hope for an exemplary year." She didn't even wait for his reply.
"I hope so too, Lady Redgrave," Julius replied. I could almost picture the forced smile forming on his face. That Angelica never noticed told me how little she truly cared about him as a person, just as Julius always said.
Their conversation continued in the polite tones befitting their titles, but to me, it was just background noise. All my focus was on the person beside the young duchess.
His posture was rigid, like a soldier's, yet his arms hung relaxed, as if the role of bodyguard barely warranted his attention. His right hand rested on the hilt of his sword—a gesture all too familiar—while the fingers of his other hand tapped an unsettling rhythm against his thigh. His eyes, dark and bored, roamed over the group, but for a fleeting moment, I swear a cruel glint crossed his gaze.
How can someone who terrifies me so much seem so utterly ordinary?
I glance at my five friends, searching for a spark of recognition of the danger standing before them. Nothing. They don't even notice him, though he's right there in plain sight. Only Chris fixes his eyes on Bartfort's sword, completely ignoring his face.
"Oh, I almost forgot, Your Highness. Allow me to introduce Sir Leon Fou Bartfort, the new baron in service to my house," Angelica said, a spark of enthusiasm in her voice, as if Julius ought to know who he was.
Julius finally turned his gaze toward the Lord of the Machines. It seemed both he and Jilk were surprised.
Could some part of them recognize him as an enemy? I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't notice someone was there. You have so little presence!" Julius said, his tone of genuine surprise bordering on mockery, as if Bartfort had just materialized out of thin air before his eyes. Jilk, ever discreet, covered a sly smile with his hand, his eyes gleaming with contained amusement. Brad and Greg, on the other hand, didn't bother to hide it: they let out loud guffaws that echoed among Angelica's entourage, joined by the shrill giggles of her followers. The sound of their laughter sliced through the air like a blade, and for a moment, I wondered if any of them sensed the weight of what they were overlooking.
Leon didn't flinch. His face remained impassive, with that maddening calm of someone tolerating a spoiled child's antics. His lips curved slightly, a smirk that didn't quite become a smile, while his dark eyes—those eyes I knew all too well—swept over the group with silent disdain. I read his soul instinctively, a habit I couldn't shake with him: mild irritation, a faint tingle beneath his mask of indifference. It didn't matter enough to truly bother him. Angelica, though, furrowed her brow slightly, a flash of surprise crossing her perfectly composed face. She clearly expected more from Julius, as if the name "Leon Fou Bartfort" should have sparked recognition in the prince. Her confusion might have amused me another time, but now it only fueled my anxiety.
"Well, Sir Bartfort isn't one to draw attention with his appearance..." Angelica interjected, regaining her firm tone and lifting her chin as if to reclaim control of the conversation. "But listen, Your Highness! He's a recent adventurer who, with just a small ship, discovered uncharted islands and a relic of ancient technology." Her voice flared with unexpected fire, an enthusiasm that clashed with her usual aristocratic coolness. Her eyes sparkled, and for a second, she almost seemed like a child showing off a prize.
I felt her soul without meaning to: pure admiration, an almost possessive pride, and a hint of jealousy that caught me off guard. Jealousy? Of what? His freedom, his achievements? I never imagined someone like Angelica, so obsessed with etiquette and decorum, could harbor such vivid, human emotions. It threw me off, and I hated to admit it, but for a moment, I saw her as more than the tyrant of my memories.
The boys, meanwhile, reacted with a murmur of interest. Their faces lit up, and it didn't surprise me—adventure was their lifeblood. I remembered their radiant smiles in the dungeons, the gleam in their eyes as we unearthed forgotten treasures. Brad tilted his head, intrigued, while Greg crossed his arms with a grimace that tried to mask his curiosity. Chris, his gaze locked on Bartfort's sword, seemed to weigh its worth in combat. Even Jilk raised an eyebrow, his interest betraying his usual composure. Only Julius kept his mask of disinterest, though his eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of fascination breaking through.
"Is that so?" he finally remarked, addressing Bartfort directly. His voice was dry, sharp, as it always was when he avoided speaking more than necessary with Angelica. It was his way of keeping her at arm's length, and I wondered if she noticed.
"That's right, Your Highness," Leon replied, and I swear I caught an edge in his tone, a trace of annoyance as he uttered the title. His soul thrummed with deeper irritation this time, as if every word to Julius was a pebble in his shoe—or perhaps it was Julius himself that grated on him. He straightened slightly, his hand still on his sword's hilt, and continued, "A ship, some treasures, weapons from lost civilizations... and a few golems." He paused, and his eyes met mine for a split second, a mischievous glint flashing through them. "I was lucky to find them before the school year started. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here with Milady."
That last word came with a slight bow toward Angelica, a gesture so polished it felt rehearsed. She smiled, satisfied, her shoulders easing as if the compliment had restored her control. But I couldn't look away from him. Golems. Ancient weapons. The pieces clicked together with terrifying clarity: the Lord of the Machines was already weaving his web, rebuilding his metal army in this timeline. My breath grew shallow, and an icy chill crept up my spine. If I'd had doubts before, they were crushed under the weight of his words. This wasn't chance. This was him.
"Had you met before?" Julius asked, tilting his head with a curiosity that felt more feigned than real. His tone was light, almost indifferent, but his eyes narrowed faintly, as if probing for something useful in the exchange. It was typical of him: say little, but always watch for details that might serve him.
"A little," Leon answered, his voice low and calm, yet edged with a sharpness that cut through the air like a freshly honed blade. He paused, letting the silence settle, before going on. "The Redgraves did me a favor... a big one. They saved my family from a pirate attack that would've ended everything I had." His fingers stopped tapping his thigh for a moment, his hand clenching into a brief, almost imperceptible fist before relaxing again. Then he looked up at Angelica with a slight nod that felt more practiced than heartfelt. "I swore my loyalty to Lord Guilbert after that. And I can't think of a better way to prove it than by looking after his precious little sister..."—he paused again, his lips curling into that mocking smile that chilled me to the bone—"...and future queen of the realm."
Julius's soul turned bitter, a reminder that he was bound to someone who neither loved nor understood him. In contrast, Bartfort's soul radiated satisfaction; there was no doubt that comment had been calculated to needle Julius.
Julius was at his limit—I could feel it in the air. His shoulders stiffened beneath his royal cloak, and his fingers tapped a nervous rhythm against his leg, a tic that always betrayed his impatience. He'd endured just enough, the bare minimum of courtesy his title demanded in this exchange with his fiancée. I know that look: eyes darting, jaw clenched, searching for an escape. He was likely crafting a farewell in his mind, something short and polished like "I must attend to an urgent matter" or a simple "We'll speak later," enough to slip out of Angelica's net without raising suspicion. I'd seen him do it countless times at the academy, dodging formalities with the grace of someone who knows they can't be fully caught. He hated being trapped, especially with her, with her firm tone and that confidence that seemed to shout "future queen" in every word.
I could picture it clearly: a step back, a near-mechanical nod, maybe a quick glance at Jilk to cover for him with some improvised excuse. His lips parted, ready to deliver the line that would free him, and I almost wished he'd succeed, that he'd escape before things twisted further. But then, just as the air seemed to hum with his imminent retreat, something shattered the moment. The Lord of the Machines turned his head toward me.
His eyes found me in the crowd, cutting through the distance as if he'd known exactly where I was all along. That gaze—dark, sharp, all too familiar—pierced me like a spear. And then, with a playful smirk—that damned smirk that still haunts my nightmares, twisted and cruel—he winked at me. My heart lurched, a dull thud echoing in my chest. My hands trembled, sweat chilling them instantly, and for a second, the air turned to ice in my lungs. Everything stopped: the academy's clamor, Angelica and Julius's voices, the entire world. It was just him and me, and the terrifying certainty that he'd seen me, that he'd chosen me.
"Forgive me for interrupting this conversation, Milady," Leon said, his voice sharp yet cloaked in a courtesy that sounded more like mockery than respect. His words were aimed solely at Angelica, dismissing Julius and the rest as if they weren't worth his notice. He paused briefly, just long enough for the silence to weigh heavy, before adding with a tone dripping with amusement, "But it seems the scholarship student is here."
Angelica, Julius, and both their entourages turned to look at me with mild interest. I didn't have to fake my nervousness; it poured out of me like water from a broken dam. My hands shook, and I pressed them against my sides to hide it, but heat crept up my neck, betraying me. This wasn't in my plans.
"Oh, you must be Olivia," Lady Redgrave greeted me, her tone diplomatic. "Queen Mylene requested in a letter that I ensure your stay at the academy is as smooth as possible."
"R-Really?" I stammered, stunned. That hadn't happened before! My eyes darted to Bartfort. He flashed one of those mocking smiles—silent, hateful—that practically begged for a punch.
"That's right. She knows how overwhelming such a big change in environment can be for you," Angelica continued, her voice laced with a sweetness so fake I could almost taste it. She paused, tilting her head slightly as if choosing her words with care, though her eyes gleamed with that superiority I knew so well. "Not to mention that some of the less tolerant nobles might feel... uncomfortable with your presence and could act in ways unbecoming of their titles."
What a fancy way to put it, huh? "Uncomfortable." A pretty word to mask the visceral contempt most nobles—and her, oh, especially her—felt about sharing the same air as a commoner like me. They'd do anything to drive me out: venomous whispers, cutting glares, subtle traps disguised as accidents. I knew it well. I'd lived it. And Angelica, with her pack of vipers and veiled commands, had been the worst of them all.
"If it's alright with you, we'll arrange brief etiquette lessons every weekend," Angelica said, her voice soft but carrying an authority that brooked no argument. "From what I've heard, you're intelligent, a quick learner. I'm sure that with your talent, my guidance, and my protection, you'll have no trouble at the academy." Her smile was so sincere, so warm, that it caught me off guard. For a moment, I wavered. I never imagined someone like her—the same one who'd turned my days into a living hell—could look at me with anything close to kindness. Was this real? Or just another mask?
"No doubt, the lessons will be interesting," Leon cut in, his voice sliding between us like a cold current. Unlike Angelica, his tone held something more, a hidden edge that prickled my skin. His eyes met mine, and that damned smile of his—sly, calculating—made me clench my fists. "As the third son of a baron, no one thought I'd need to learn etiquette. So Milady offered me a crash course in becoming a proper knight. I'm sure you and I can... help each other with this."
What was his game? Why was he getting close to me? My mind spun in frantic circles. Had he manipulated Angelica into taking this "protective" role? Or was this part of a bigger scheme? His soul buzzed with ulterior motives, an echo of amusement that chilled me to the bone. "I think it'd be too much trouble for you, Lady Redgrave," I said, my voice shaking despite my efforts. "And for you too, Sir Bartfort." It was a desperate bid to escape, but I knew it was futile. The Lord of the Machines already held the reins of our lives, and no one else seemed to notice.
Angelica gave me another smile, softer this time, likely mistaking my clumsiness for modesty. "Don't worry, Miss Olivia. It's my duty as student council president to help students in need." Her tone was so noble, so perfect, that I nearly choked on the irony. Where was that help when you cornered me in the halls, hissing that I should stay away from Julius, that I should "know my place"? The memory of her words—sharp as daggers—clashed with her current façade, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from spitting the truth in her face.
"Don't underestimate high society, Olivia," Leon said, stealing the floor again. His voice dropped slightly, like a cat stalking a mouse before pouncing. His soul danced with dark delight, and that smile—that damned smile—widened as he spoke. "After all, there are people here who don't even know what the crown prince, Lord Julius Rapha Holfort, looks like." As he said it, he bent into an exaggerated bow that teetered on mockery, aimed straight at Julius. Julius shot him a glare that burned with irritation, his lips pressing into a thin line. The others—Jilk, Brad, Greg, Chris—exchanged quick glances, some stifling laughs, others frowning, but none grasped what I did.
And then it hit me. The Lord of the Machines had played his pieces with terrifying precision. Right in front of everyone, he'd ensured I knew who Julius was. My plan—to feign ignorance, to recreate that awkward first meeting that bonded us—crumbled to ashes in my hands. He'd severed the bridge to my friends, my second family. Was this a game to him? Did he just want to watch me squirm under his control? My breath grew shallow, and a knot tightened in my chest.
Noticing my silence, Angelica frowned for a moment, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face as if she thought I was ignoring her. But she quickly slipped back into that impeccable mask of formality. "I'll send one of my followers to fetch you for the lessons, Miss Olivia. I hope we'll get along," she said, her tone final. On instinct, I gave an awkward bow, which seemed to please her. Her smile returned, satisfied, though it didn't last long. Julius and his entourage seized the moment to slip away, melting into the crowd with the skill of those who've mastered the art of escape. Angelica watched them go, her expression hardening for a second, before turning to her own group and signaling their retreat, with Leon trailing her like a shadow.
"By the way, Olivia," he said, pausing just before following her. His voice was low, almost a whisper, and when he looked at me, that mocking smirk curved his lips again. "The girls' dorms are that way." He turned without waiting for a reply, his silent laughter ringing in my head as he walked off with the rest.
There was no doubt. That last comment sealed it: somehow, he knew. He knew my first meeting with Julius had sprung from my clumsiness, from getting lost looking for the dorms and stumbling into a prince I didn't recognize. A shiver ran across my skin, like hundreds of icy needles pricking my back. How could he know something so intimate, so trivial from my life as a commoner? There was no way he could've spied on me back then, when I was nobody, when I had no merit worth his notice. Who are you, Lord of the Machines? What are you?
With no other choice, I headed to the auditorium where Julius would give the opening speech. The air buzzed with murmurs and anticipation. From my seat, I saw pride shining in Jilk's and Angelica's eyes, each for different reasons: Jilk out of loyalty, Angelica out of ambition. Greg, Chris, and Brad, meanwhile, swapped mocking glances, stifling laughs at Julius's obvious distaste for being there. I knew how much he hated those speeches, how his voice strained as he recited words he didn't mean. But my focus drifted to Leon. He sat off to the side, his posture relaxed but his eyes dull, bored. Every time Julius spoke, a sneer of contempt crossed his face, as if he heard nothing but nonsense spilling from his mouth. That disrespect toward one of my best friends ignited a fire in me, but what could I expect from the man who'd killed them all in our other life?
When the assembly ended, I went straight to my dorm. Talking to Julius was impossible now, with the present so warped and Leon weaving his web to keep me from my friends. My body sank heavily onto the bed, exhausted, defeated. Leon had beaten me this time, but for now, at least, he didn't seem intent on destroying us—not me, not my friends, not the kingdom. Trying to unravel his motives was like chasing shadows; it only left me with a throbbing headache. But one thing was certain: no matter how much his presence terrified me, I'd defeated him once. And I'd do it again. Plans to ramp up my training and strategies to reconnect with the boys flooded my mind, a whirlwind of resolve that held me up until exhaustion pulled me into sleep.
The next morning, a rumor spread like wildfire through the halls: a short girl had slapped Julius.
Thank you for reading my story and sorry for the delay in the chapter.
I would like to make some notes for those who have read this far.
-Leon and Olivia will not be a couple, Olivia would never harbour romantic feelings for someone who cruelly killed her friends.
-Olivia can read souls on a basic level, only emotions or whether they are being truthful or lying.
-Both Olivia and Leon are unreliable narrators. One example is Olivia's whole perception of Angelica.
Leon's fighting style is based on the soulborne, using his shotgun to perform parrys and his sword to perform ashes of war type magics.
Olivia is a combination of cleric fighting and Elden Ring holy spells.
Although I'll get to that later, Leon is using the Redgraves but at the same time he's fond of them, especially Angelica (nothing romantic at the moment).
