The Heroine Feels More like a Villainess to Me - Chapter 5

I was laying on one of the chaise lounges in the library when I woke up, the count and another, older man staring down at me. It took me a moment to remember what happened, but once I had I was flooded with a sense of embarrassment and shame.

"There she is," the older man said. "How are you feeling, my lady?"

I blinked at the older man, taking in his tidy, salt and pepper hair and the warm expression in his eyes. He had a stethoscope around his neck, so I could only conclude that this was the Chernov family's doctor.

"I feel silly," I answered, hiding the flush on my cheeks with my hands. "I'm sorry for making everyone worry."

The doctor reached out to pat my head much like the count had. "Don't be silly, my lady. It's a parent's job to worry about their child and a doctor's job to worry about their patients. I'm just glad you're alright."

I nodded, eyes trained on my shoes as the doctor packed up and went on his way. I heard the count thank him quietly, but still did not look up. It wasn't until the count knelt before me and took my hands in his that I dared to let my eyes drift upwards to meet his.

"Are you sure you're alright, Elizaveta?" he asked, concern still heavy in his voice.

I nodded. "I was just...shocked and overwhelmed. I haven't even debuted yet, and yet I'm going to go to such an important event." I chewed on my lip, my eyes drifting downwards once more.

The count squeezed my hands reassuringly. "You'll be fine, Liza. No one is expecting you to be perfect and know everything, especially not the queen. And you'll have myself and your mother there with you the whole time. And I'm sure you're friend, Clara, will be there too."

Oh, that's right. If all the noble families were coming, then Clara would be there, too. Even if the heroine did show up, at least I'd have Clara.

I looked up at the count and flashed him a shy smile. "Okay."

The count sighed in relief. "Good. Now, let's find Missus Frisk. She'll know just what to pack for you."

The ride to the capital was a long one, what with our travel restricted to a horse-drawn carriage. About two days in, I swore I'd never complain about airplanes again. The wooden wheels made us feel every rock and dip we went over. While the kingdom had a set of well-maintained, stone-paved highways, they still weren't nearly as smooth as the asphalt and concrete roads I was used to.

For a world where magic was abundant, you'd think they'd come up with some sort of magical object to make these sorts of things easier. Why didn't these carriages float? My ass hurt something awful. Is this what Clara had to deal with on her trip up to meet me? I felt sorry for her.

We would stay in fancy inns or stage-houses as we traveled, all of which were expecting us ahead of time. This should have surprised me, but it didn't. Such a route likely would have been planned well in advance, likely by a servant on their own horse who rode a few days ahead and informed the innkeepers to expect us.

More than once I swore I saw another noble family as I wandered about the inns to stretch my leg after hours of travel, though I never spoke to them.

The roads in the capital were much smoother, to the point I could immediately tell when we arrived in the city. I climbed up onto my knees, looking out the windows of the carriage at the people milling about on the main thoroughfare. While some stared at our passing carriage and gossiped to one another, most went about their day as if nothing was happening. Considering social season happened every year, it was easy to see how people could have gotten used to such things.

I, however, had not yet gotten used to anything.

The Chernov manor, much like the various other manors that lined the residential streets closest to the palace, was surrounded by a stone wall and a wrought iron gate. The manor itself was smaller than the manor back in our territory, but no less ornate. The gardens were filled with blooming flowers and meticulously maintained shrubbery.

The servants had lined up outside the manor to greet us as he rolled up. It was a smaller staff to go with a smaller house, but their uniforms looked as sharply tailored as the servants' back home.

The count stepped out of the coach first, offering a hand to the countess as she descended from the carriage with a grace I could only hope to match. Anton went next, jumping defiantly down the last two steps of the carriage with a mildly smug smirk on his face. I rolled my eyes as the Countess clicked her tongue in gentle admonishment. When it was my turn, the coachman offered me his hand, which I took gratefully. The carriage steps were deep for my short legs, and I tried hard not to look like I was struggling. If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything.

The butler and head maid bowed first, the rest of the staff following suit as the butler greeted us.

"Welcome back to the capital, my lord, my lady," the butler said, his voice deep and a bit gravely. "I, as always, am your humble servant and steward of this manor, Yevgeny."

"And I am the head maid, Ulyana," the head maid introduced with a curtsy. "We hope the manor has been prepared to your standards. Please let us know if anything is amiss and we shall rectify it forthwith."

"As the young miss and young master have come with you this season, we have prepared a list of governesses for your perusal, should you wish to hire one," Yevgeny informed the count stiffly.

"Of course," the count said. "Thank you for your diligence, Yevgeny, Ulyana."

The two bowed once more. The staff here at the capital seemed far more formal and stiffer than those back home. Perhaps it was because they only saw the Chernov's for a few months out of the year?

The Countess took me by the hand as the head servants led us into the manor, her fingers thin but warm as they wrapped around mine. The dark wood of the front door was carved with a recreation of what I now knew to be the Chernov family crest -- a wreath of heather blossoms surrounding the head of a bear, its mouth clutching a four-pointed star. It was an aggressive image if you didn't understand what each piece meant. I hadn't, initially, but books of heraldry were abundant in the family's library.

Who would have thought a bear was a symbol of protection?

The interior of the manor was decorated in warm, cozy tones. The color palette was lighter than the territorial manor, denoting its status as the summer home. My shoes click-clacked on the wooden floors as my eyes passed over the ornate balusters of the twin staircase that framed the entryway and the grand portrait of the Count and Countess that graced the wall.

The Countess noticed my wandering eyes and squeezed my hand. "One day we'll have to update the portrait. Perhaps when you and Anton are of age."

I simply squeezed her hand in return.

"Ulyana?" the Countess called. "Send for a dressmaker. Someone of good reputation, but not the most popular. The children will need clothes for the ball and I need someone who understands the trends in the capital."

"Yes, my lady."

The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity. Servants carried our luggage up into the second floor where our chambers resided. The fires in the kitchen were stirred and the scent of cooking food started floating through the manor. Anton and I chased each other through the halls, opening every door to see what was hiding behind it. That's how we found the sunroom just off the kitchen where breakfast and afternoon tea would be served, and the study that doubled as a library, and the back door that led out into the gardens where heather and lavender grew and filled the air with a comforting scent.

The midday meal was served in the sunroom after Anton and I expressed our excitement. The servants brought in a fresh salad bursting with spring berries and roasted duck covered in some sweet-spicy glaze. I watched the breeze move the bloom-heavy branches of the trees out the windows as I sipped on honey-sweetened lemonade, made fresh for me and Anton as the adults sipped honey wine.

It made me miss the honeyed pastries that Missus Frisk would always make.

"Will we be here long?" I asked.

The Count hummed thoughtfully, swirling his wine about its class. "A while, at least through the end of spring. Why? Is something wrong, dear?"

The Countess turned her violet eyes my way, concern evident in the way her lips curved downwards.

"N-nothing really," I stuttered. How exactly could you explain you didn't want to risk running into your future nemesis out of fear that anything you might do could be construed as an attack? "I just...don't want Missus Frisk to worry about us."

"She is prone to fussing," Anton said, petulant as only a six-year-old boy could be.

The Countess chuckled behind her glass of wine. "Missus Frisk knows you two will be safe and well taken care of here. But, if you like, you could write her a letter after you're all settled in to let her know how you're doing. Does that sound nice?"

I nodded, making sure my panicked screaming remained internal.

The dressmaker was a young woman in her early 20s, her strawberry blonde hair pinned back in a simple bun so as not to interfere with her work, whether that was sewing or selling.

"I thank you for choosing my atelier for your needs, Countess," the woman said, her voice light and subdued.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," the Countess greeted blithely, leading the dressmaker into the parlor. "I do hope I haven't inconvenienced you."

"Of course not, my lady," the dressmaker assured. She sat in the offered chair, pulling out a writing pad and a large, leather-bound portfolio, which she set on the table. "I have brought my catalogue for your perusal, but I am also happy to alter or create something altogether original for you or the young miss."

The dressmaker smiled at me at the mention, her smile small but sweet. I wondered if she often worked with children, noble or otherwise.

The Countess plucked the catalogue from the table, flipping through it with mild interest. I leaned over her shoulder to see, my eyes going wide at the variety of dresses and suits laid out on the pages, ranging from simple, every day affairs to elaborate ballgowns fit for only the highest of nobles, too fancy for those like ourselves were were only Counts.

"As you can see, a few sample color swatches are included with each design," the dressmaker mentioned, drawing my eye to the sides of each page where a series of swatches brought a pop of color to each page. "If you wish, however, I am more than willing to work with you on a color scheme that better suits your tastes."

"We'll need something suitable for a spring ball," the Countess mused, flipping the page. "Can these designs be altered to fit a child's size?"

The dressmaker nodded. "Some would be better suited for such things than others, but yes."

The Countess hummed, flipping the page once more. My eyes widened and I reached out to stop her from turning the page again. The dress on the page was simple compared to some of the others, but I fell in love with the way the fabric draped and swirled over the model's body, the wispy, flowy sleeves that looked like flower petals, and the sweet lavender to baby blue ombre that the color swatch implied.

The Countess eyed me curiously. "Do you like this one, Liza?"

I nodded enthusiastically, Elizaveta's violet-black curls bouncing with the movement. The Countess turned the portfolio around to show the dressmaker.

"Would you be able to make this accommodate my daughter's size?"

The dressmaker took the portfolio from the Countess, mulling over the design. "Yes, this can be easily done. And the young miss is happy with the proposed colors?"

I nodded again. "Yes! It reminds me of the hydrangeas in the garden."

The Countess giggled. "Then that is the dress you shall have. Now, let me see the rest of the catalogue. I still need to pick out something for Anton."

The governess was younger than I expected, a third daughter from a Merlo branch house without much of an inheritance to speak of. Antonia Riesling carried herself with the sort of prove-myself kind of attitude that I couldn't relate to, but Elizaveta probably could have, had she and I not swapped places.

The governess focused on the basics of noble etiquette. I had learned a few things simply by living within a noble house the past few weeks, but there was still much I hadn't learned. Like the difference between a fish knife and a steak knife, apparently.

"You might be asked to dance with other young ones around your age," Governess Riesling informed me. "At your age, it is likely to be a group dance. As you get older, however, these will be individual dances. While you might be able to get away with dancing with the Young Lord before your formal debut, once you have become a Young Lady of society, you will not be able to use that as a means of escape."

I fought back an incredulous expression. She made the whole thing sound like a hostage situation.

"Do I have to dance with every man that asks me?" I asked.

"If you are formally acquainted and they are of proper standing, yes," Governess Riesling answered.

"What makes them of the proper standing?" I asked. "And what about casually acquainted? Does that make a difference?"

The governess sputtered a bit. I supposed she didn't expect a kid to ask these kinds of questions. But why wouldn't I?

She went on to ramble about what it meant to be in good standing -- your position in the family, the debts you might have, your noble rank (among other things) -- and it all seemed a bit complicated and silly to me.

"Is there anyone who might show up to a ball thrown by the queen that wouldn't be in good standing?" I ended up asking, interrupting her ramble.

Governess Riesling looked uncomfortable for a moment, almost as if she didn't want to tell me. "The heads of each family, either the main overseeing family of the territory or their branch families, will be invited. Which likely means Lord Alekto will be in appearance."

I scoured my brain for any reference I'd seen to a Lord Alekto in the game, but I couldn't remember anything. The name seemed familiar, but I couldn't place where I'd heard it.

"Who is Lord Alekto?" I asked.

Governess Riesling continued to look uncomfortable. She glanced at the door, as if expecting someone to burst in and scold her for telling me anything. "The Alekto family is a branch of the Calimeris family, which itself was originally a branch family of the royal Vasilikos house back at the time of the founding. He is distant cousins with the queen, who was born of the Calimeris household."

I scrunched my nose wondering just how distant the family trees of the Vasilikos and Calimeris families actually were. "And Lord Alekto is not in good standing? Why?"

Governess Riesling glanced at the door again before speaking in a hushed tone. "It is rumored that Lord Alekto's marriage was arranged by force."

I tilted my head. By force? Arranged marriages weren't exactly voluntary on the parts of the people getting married. At least, not to my understanding. "I don't understand."

"It is said that he blackmailed his wife's family so that he could marry her despite the fact they were arranging something with another family," she explained. "He then divorced her after she had given birth to their son...as in before the child was even a year old."

Okay, yeah. That was extremely shitty of him to do. I could see why he wasn't in good standing. Divorce for a young woman in a society like this was like a death sentence. I hoped she was okay. "But the queen still invited him?"

Governess Riesling shrugged helplessly. "He's family, Young Miss."

The evening air was warm, the sun not fully set over the horizon as our buggy approached the grand palace gates. Knights in full plate lined the boulevard where it passed through the gates and turned into a grand, circular courtyard that, at this point, was full of the carriages of the various noble families. Some were already empty, others were waiting for their turn. I caught sight of what I thought was Clara's sunshine hair a few buggies up, but I couldn't be sure.

"Sit properly, dear," the countess chided gently. "You'll mess up your dress."

I settled back in my seat, patting at the silky fabric of my skirt. "Yes, ma'am."

"Are we there yet?" Anton asked, arms crossed tightly across his chest. He looked like he was about to start pouting.

"We have to wait our turn, son," the count said placatingly. He turned to look over his shoulder at the line. "Shouldn't be much longer now."

Eventually, our driver brings us up to the front steps of the palace. Towering pillars of some clear, crystal-like material lined the front of the building, two banners in the queen's signature powder blue draped from the upper floors on either side of the grand double doors.

"Welcome to the Spring Palace, official residence of Her Royal Majesty Queen Maira," a manservant greeted as as we stepped down from our buggy. "Please allow me to escort you to the ballroom."

I took the count's hand tightly in my own as we climbed the white stone steps, my heart beating like a thundering drum in my chest. The lights inside were already blinding.

"Introducing the honorable Chernov family -- Count Aleksandr, Countess Yuliya, Lord Anton, and Lady Elizaveta."

I swallowed thickly. Here went nothing.