#sorry this is like a kafka journal entry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meaningofaeons · 11 months

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-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ majesty: chapter I. trepidation

⊹ word count - 2.5k ⊹ warnings/notes - mentions of blood, violence, etc. ⊹ taglist - @xphantasmagoriax @thatweirdcheshirecat @sparkleasteroid @fluffy-koalala @chopid @just-a-fuegoleon-fangirl @bigbrain411 @koraneki @cupsof-pinkdrinks @anima-m @hoo-hoo

⊹ majesty masterpost ⊹ next part ⇾ chapter II. (COMING SOON) ⊹ previous part ⇾ prologue.

sorry for the delay! please enjoy chapter 1! these first few chapters will likely be shorter, as they are mostly introductory. however, I did want at least ONE romanceable character to appear, so... [^._.^]ﾉ彡 I anticipate the coming chapters will get longer as we get into the more exciting stuff! stay tuned!

The second the door clicked shut behind Cecilia, you were quick to rush to the desk by your window, rifling through the drawers to bring out a small journal you had kept.

You snatched up a quill and ink from the other end, flipping past the various entries you had made in your youth.

"...low-bred girl, with the audacity..."

"...tea party... that wench mocked me in front of everyone! I just..."

You couldn't help but wince at your past entries. You really did have a foul mouth and temperament ever since you were small...

Indeed, even though you had not yet had your debut, it was not uncommon for ladies of all ages to visit banquets and parties of the unofficial sort—especially less so if they had their mother accompanying you.

Of course, your mother had long since passed away.

The entry on the last filled page caught your eye, reminding you of that and sending a pang through your chest.

"I wonder if Father will even attend my debut in the future. It's not as though he must, but it would be nice. Most young ladies get escorted by their parents, so why should I, the most dignified young lady of all, not be afforded the same right?"

Then, a pause in line.

"But I don't think so. After all, it's my fault that mother—"

You swiftly skipped to the next page over, taking a deep breath as you steadied your hand. No need to get into any of that. The past is the past.

Or so you thought, recalling with a jolt the cold steel of a blade through your chest. Shuddering, you dipped your quill in ink.

Then, you began jotting down every single thing you knew.

It’s currently Stellar Year X90, according to Cecilia. Your debutante ball is only three months away. When you had been banished and subsequently killed, it was Stellar Year X01, as the debutantes of the higher nobles always occurred at the Imperial Palace in the first month of the year…

As far as you could tell, everything was just as it was ten years prior. Cecilia was your personal maid. She hadn’t been executed for standing up for you in the face of Saintess Kafka’s poisoning. You hadn’t caught a glimpse of your butler, Hyacinthe, but surely he was also around too.

Not only that, but the bandits—that bit of news alone had proven you really did go back in time. You knew of magic and its existence, but without a strong affinity for it yourself, you were never sent to the academy for adolescent nobles talented in affairs of magic.

Besides, a life of fancy dresses, luxurious jewelry, and endless indulgences suited you much more than the life of a hardworking, never-sleeping researcher stuck high in that ivory tower.

You shook your head.

That life of indulgence is exactly what got you hated and killed.

You took a deep breath, laying out all the pages you had scribbled across. You glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of your room.

8:42 a.m. Breakfast would be at 9:30 a.m. sharp. There wasn’t any more time to delay on this matter—you could always finish writing down what you remember of the future later on.

You walked over to the small bell at your bedside, tugging the rope and hearing the soft chime as it no doubt alerted Cecilia to your needs. She was at your door in record time, knocking nigh-frantically as she called in.

“My lady, it’s Cecilia. May I enter?”

“Yes,” you murmured, folding your hands over your lap as you turned to face her. When she entered, mild shock flitted across her face at the lack of any broken objects or torn papers. Your room seemed, for all intents and purposes, perfectly neat. But your maid still seemed apprehensive of your every move, perhaps even more nervous at your supposed calmness.

“Cecilia, I need to prepare for breakfast. Please prepare my bath and my dress. I’d like an elegant hairstyle today, as well, but modest accessories.”

This time, she couldn’t even school her expression. Cecilia’s jaw practically dropped, and you had to refrain from getting cross with her.

After all, you had to change the rumors about yourself… not fuel them further. Besides, her reaction was plenty understandable given your past behavior.

“A-Ah! Forgive my languor, my lady! I’ll do so right away!”

And off she went. You sighed, slumping against your couch and placing a hand to your head as you went over today’s events.

According to your calendar, as well as what your raven-haired maid had said, today was the day you were to meet Madame Floelle for your dress-fitting.

Even in your past life, when luxury was all you cared for, you could resistantly recall the way that fiery-haired woman was. Extravagant in both looks and personality, while she had always provided you the best of the best, the first of every trend, she was not the easiest to deal with.

Today would be rough, to say the least.

—

In the past, you remembered Madame Floelle’s unwavering enthusiasm for her craft, even in light of your irritation and indignance towards her disposition. She wasn’t a complete fool, though, and you had exited the tailor shop with your designs solidified and ready to be sewn before the lunch hour had arrived.

With your newfound patience, it seemed you wouldn’t be getting out of the shop before sunset at the very least—you hadn’t even had time for a proper meal!

“My lady, this next dress absolutely brings out the radiance of your skin, not to mention your eyes! I’m thinking we combine the gemstones embroidered at the top near the bust here with the tulle of the other’s skirt for the Imperial Banquet. Ooh, and—!”

Cecilia offered you a glass of water, which you gladly accepted and nursed as you held your poor, aching head.

“It seems I’ll be living on breakfast alone, today…”

“It certainly does seem so, my lady…” your maid concurred with a light laugh. You had noticed it slowly throughout the day, but it seems the young woman was adapting to your newfound personality quicker than you could’ve ever expected.

The designs Madame Floelle had prepared previously for both your debutante and the banquet were already lovely, but she had truly gone above and beyond. Yet it didn’t seem to occur to her that there was a place to stop making changes and accept a gown as-was.

You worked your mind to the limit, about to request the Madame bring out some variations of the same blue shade for your perusal, if only to get her to stop talking for even a moment.

However, it seemed to prove unnecessary.

“Madame!” A tall, cloaked figure burst into the shop, startling both you and Cecilia. The family knight assigned to you for this outing placed his hand lightly over his sword’s hilt, but you raised a hand to indicate against it. “I’m here for my new robes!”

The man was wearing a lapel chain connected to a brooch, and not just any brooch—it had the insignia of the Herta Magic Tower.

As most mages tended to originate from the nobility, you had no reason to fear this loud, somewhat rude stranger, preoccupying yourself with the catalog in your hands as Madame Floelle excused herself politely, storming over to the door as the shop attendants glanced at her.

“My, sir! Please do mind your manners! We are in the presence of her ladyship of the Stella Duchy, so if you wouldn’t mind!”

Still, the more you thought about it… something like this hadn’t happened in the past.

You calmed yourself at once. Of course it wouldn’t have, you were long gone from the shop by this point in the day before. If the cloaked man showed up in the afternoon, it was clear you would have missed him.

You took your cup of tea gingerly, sipping on it as you leisurely flipped through the catalog some more. The springtime designs were truly something else this year… you hadn’t bothered to look in advance before.

“Ohoh~? The future Duchess? What an honor!”

Only when you heard your guard halfway unsheathing his sword did you glance up from your cup, catching onto the sharp emeralds that stared down at you as Madame Floelle protested loudly. Despite most of his face being encased in shadow, you could see the pearly whites that formed a wolfish grin as he raised a hand to rub his chin.

“A real looker, isn’t she? Thought she didn’t get out much.”

“How insolent!” your guard raised his voice, thrusting his blade right in front of the man’s face. “Show proper respect to her ladyship! Apologize at once!”

The situation was mildly startling, but a random mage posed no threat when you thought it over logically, and thus, you did not stir or panic.

“Oh? But I didn’t hear her protest or anything.” He gazed back down at you again, chuckling. “I was only complimenting her.”

You eyed your guard, seeing the veins nearly pop out of his face. You considered the situation thoughtfully, and acknowledged that it would be better to assuage your escort lest he go for the man’s neck in consideration of his ‘insult’ against the Stella Duchy.

“Well, for one, I’d appreciate it if you spoke directly to me. Talking as though I’m not here… That’s the real insult here.” You addressed your guard. “Lower your sword.”

“But, Lady Y/N—!”

You set your teacup down and glowered, quickly shutting the knight up.

Even if you had to be kinder to prevent your downfall in this life… it did not mean you had to become a pushover, either.

“I didn’t realize you had authority over me so as to speak your mind on my decisions, Sir Milo. Or is that why you spoke up on my behalf before, as well? Your actions are degrading to the family name.”

The man trembled momentarily, but eventually caved to your whims, sheathing his weapon and bowing deeply.

“...My deepest apologies, my lady. I meant no disrespect.”

“I will overlook it this time.”

Throughout your exchange, the mage had been watching you with keen interest, eyes glimmering with curiosity.

“...I’d heard the rumors, but I’m quite shocked, Lady Y/N. You don’t seem to fit the bill in the slightest.”

Cecilia, Sir Milo, and Madame Floelle all shared a glance, which you gracefully chose to ignore.

“I don’t suppose you’re hankering for any sort of information services or magical services? I’d be most happy to provide… for a fee, of course!”

Rather than acknowledge his statement, you merely lifted your cup again, taking a small sip.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate for a gentleman to address a lady with such a casual manner of speech, especially since you haven’t deigned to give me your name at all. What family are you from?”

“Would you believe me if I said none?”

You chuckled, and the green-eyed man’s smile widened.

“Far be it from me to insist on an answer. Keep your secrets. Madame Floelle,” you addressed the woman at last, who stood up straight at your words. “Do not let my presence impede your business with this gentleman. Feel free to assist him now.”

“Ah, y-yes, of course, my lady!”

As she and the other shop attendants hurried the mage off to the other room, you could just barely catch the way he shot you one last glance, assessing you once again.

‘Sampo Koski. Do come find me at the Mage’s Tower should you have any business. I’d be delighted to entertain a lady of prestige such as yourself~’

You jolted, whipping your head over to him, but he was long gone.

Telepathy…?

Most mages could only control the elements they had an affinity for from birth, along with some basics like telekinesis and teleportation. Some higher-level mages, however, could extend their abilities beyond that—telepathy was one such mythical power that came to only the most gifted.

And his name… Sampo Koski. The family name was strange, certainly not a noble house you had ever heard of, but his first name seemed familiar.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Cecilia murmured. You nodded slowly, and Madame Floelle was swift to emerge from the other room, looking positively frazzled.

“My lady, I’ve finalized the designs for your gowns… If you would approve—”

“Already approved, Madame. Please do as you see fit.”

“Then…”

You laughed under your breath. Even the indomitable spirit of the fiery dressmaker was nothing in comparison to that fox-like man, it seems. You supposed you should silently thank the man known as Sampo Koski for draining her enough to get you out of her shop before supper.

“Of course, Madame Floelle. I will be off. As always, the Stella Duchy will send a check to your shop at once.”

“I expect nothing less. Enjoy your evening, my lady.”

As soon as you had taken one step outside of the shop, you nearly sagged—if it weren’t for your need to keep proper decorum in public, lest your reputation be dragged through the mud even further, you might’ve fallen to the ground just then.

“My lady! Oh, dear… let’s get you back to the estate at once.”

You quietly thanked Cecilia for rending her assistance in helping you to the carriage. Your maid took your hand gingerly, leading you down the stone path as Sir Milo trailed just a few steps behind.

How is it possible that you’re this tired when all you did was sit around for hours on end?!

Suddenly, you paused.

The unpleasant sensation of eyes on you crawled up your spine, and you whipped your head to the side.

A bit of shuffling was heard from the alley you stared into, but after a few moments, nothing incriminating appeared in your vision. Cecilia fretted somewhat.

“My lady?”

“Ah…” You turned back to her, waving a hand. “It’s nothing. I just thought I saw something. Let’s go.”

“I think you need your rest, my lady…”

Still, you couldn’t help but toss one last look at the alleyway behind you, before trying to shove the feeling to the back of your mind.

—

“Haah…”

The figure breathed a deep sigh, slumping against the alleyway wall once he had vanished far enough into its shadows. He ran a hand through his hair, peeking out at the carriage that hauled you off.

“She’s really back.”

Pulling the rolled newspaper from his cloak, the man stared down at the latest article.

‘Terrifying ‘Fragmentum’ Bandits Overtaking North and South — Archduke Blade To The Front Lines, Landau Marquessate Dispatching Famed Heir’

He sighed again.

Tossing the paper to the ground, he snatched up his weapon, and made his way in the direction of the Capital’s walls.

“I suppose I should take care of this early. That way… she’ll have one less thing troubling her. That barbaric Archduke could never handle this properly.”

Then, he shot a quick gaze to the sky, mixing hues of orange and red.

“Y/N…”

“...For now, I’ll be content… in just helping you out from the shadows.”

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