Training Montage

After the meeting in the courtyard, Vivian committed to an arduous daily schedule and worked with an endurance I hadn’t seen since I had been reincarnated.

Maybe, just maybe, her investment into stamina had yielded some results.

An added benefit of her efforts was she leveled up faster than I anticipated. With my new guided user interface and her renewed vigor combined, we made great progress on her character attributes in the last two weeks before the Royal Ball.

In the mornings, after breakfast, she held etiquette lessons with Vladimir. Vladimir, despite his incessant remarks that he was “rusty,” showcased a profoundly deep understanding of court affairs.

“You have to remember that curtsies are often political,” he once remarked.

“You’re joking,” Vivian rolled her eyes.

“It absolutely is, and you’re tall, so it plays to your advantage,” he replied while demonstrating, “If you bow modestly, tuck your chin like I’m doing now, and if you’re still taller than your adversary, what happens? What does this look like?”

“Like you’re looking down on them.”

“That you are.”

After her lessons, Vivian spent the remainder of the morning and the early afternoon often with Stefan, where she poured over the list of attendees for the Royal Ball.

“You already know Diane, Viv, and maybe that’s all you really need to know,” Stefan had said.

“What about the prince’s inner circle?”

“His knights? Who do you think they hang out with? The Astral Viscount is a war hero and his wife has met every last one of her husband’s former comrades.”

“It’s not enough to just know Diane,” Vivian shook her head, “She won’t be present to help me at all times.”

“Well, the first one you’re going to need to know then is Gareth.”

The rest of the afternoon was devoted to her family and the estate. Much of it concerned acting as John Greymoor’s de facto political advisor. Every time Vivian visited his study, however, the head of the Greymoor estate seemed to have lost just a tad more hair.

“You’re right. At this point, it’s a stalling game,” John sighed, “Use the ball to sow enough doubt to postpone the vote on the decree. We don’t have enough weapons. We don’t have men. The imperial coffers have been ransacked. Anything to get them to think we need to think about it a little longer.”

“Stall to gain more votes in the parliament?” Vivian rubbed her chin, “No, stall for time. Many of the houses are retiring this year, whether by bankruptcy or death in the family. We can advocate for a specific kind of member to rejoin the court.”

“And form a coalition with members of parliament more favorable to peace,” John smirked, “Clever girl.”

But above all, what I looked forward to most was late in the evenings, after dinner, after Emily had prepared Vivian’s nighttime beverage and rearranged the drapes on the windows. Once the maid left, Vivian spent the evenings talking to her bracelet, which I was not ashamed to admit, I pretended it to be me.

“Lots of things learned today, my magical bracelet,” Vivian beamed, “And really it’s all thanks to you. I would’ve never thought to do any of this without your guidance.”

Yes. Shower me with praise.

“It’s a little crazy,” Vivian blushed, “But sometimes I do feel like you’re talking back to me. But maybe I’m just getting better at having conversations with myself.”

No, I think we’re actually getting to know each other better.

“You know, bracelet, I’ve been thinking,” Vivian rubbed her palms nervously, “With all the help you’ve given me, the path you’ve set me on.”

Wait, was this what I thought it was?

“Do you think,” Vivian took a deep breath, “Do you think it’s possible that I meet a good man at the ball? Someone who I can maybe fall in love with?”

The excitement disappeared like my spirit.

These particular conversations entertaining Vivian’s possible love life happened infrequently, but they always drew my ire and frustration whenever they occurred. Didn’t she know she was looking in the wrong place? What kind of man at the ball would even be good enough for Vivian? Would they match her intelligence, her ferocity? I couldn’t see it, so much so that I jokingly released an update to her daily user interface with only one attribute listed.

“Oh, another notification. Did I level up? Wow, I’m getting used to saying that out loud now,” Vivian murmured. She stared at her screen and shortly realized only the luck attribute was available, “Huh. So I have to get really lucky, is that right, bracelet? That’s a little bit of a bummer.”

That’s right. The chances were so slim that it might not happen in the lifespan of this present universe.

After feeling like the joke had run its course, I sifted through my repository for the actual version of the interface I wanted Vivian to see, only for my joke to be thrown right back at me.

“Well, let’s add another point into luck then when I level up again,” Vivian laughed, “Thanks bracelet. It’s almost like you’re actually looking out for my love life too. That’s charming.”

I concluded later that night that the foul up was my fault even though all logical evidence suggested otherwise. I had forgotten the quintessential rule with respect to Vivian Greymoor: if you gave her an inch, she would rip out your soul.

In the final days before the Royal Ball, the Greymoors learned that the royal court was holding a prelude to the entire event.

“Really it’s just an excuse for more drinking,” Stefan explained at dinner, “Tensions are high right now in the courts. They don’t care so much for the votes, but I believe some people are concerned that victory against the Kapur rebels won’t come easily.”

“So they intend to drink and forget the whole affair,” Vladimir finished.

“Is there even a reason to attend then?” Vivian asked.

“Dear sister, every revenge story begins with the opening act.”

And so that night, under bright chandeliers and starlit windows, with a string quartet playing fanciful sonatas, to a crowd of speechless guests who believed she had disappeared for good, Vivian Greymoor made her first debut back onto the banquet hall.

Emily’s choice of clothing proved pristine. While everyone else wrote bright colorful outfits for what should have been a jubilant affair, Vivian announced her presence with a sleeveless indigo dress and a mahogany shawl. She stood out, and it was what she wanted, and the first shadow to cast their aspersions in her direction fell right into her hands.

“I can’t believe she’s here,” someone whispered, “The witch of Caerleon.”

Vivian swirled on her sepia heels and strode confidently towards a retreating old woman, who was dressed from top to bottom in stereotypically extravagant attire. Gold amulets, fabrics, earrings, rings. Vivian towered over her and curtsied just as Vladimir had instructed.

“Lady Simone,” Vivian said, “It’s been so long since we’ve last spoken. How have you been?”

“W-well,” the old woman stammered, “I’ve been well thank you.”

“That’s lovely to hear!” Vivian approached and pulled Lady Simone into an embrace, “We’ve all been so worried about you, after all.”

“Worried?”

“That’s right,” Vivian smiled, “After all, it must be devastating, the news of the hostile takeover of your husband’s textile business. I can’t imagine what you must be doing to make end’s meet! What does the prince have to say about it?”

“How-” Lady Simone exclaimed.

“How do I know, you ask?” Vivian cut her off, grinning from ear to ear, “Oh, news gets around. You know Stefan Greymoor, my brother? He runs such a comprehensive intelligence network. But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Vivian withdrew from the conversation. Lady Simone slumped against a wall, frail and speechless. Every other attendee within earshot had heard about her husband’s deleterious business affairs and while they were taken aback by Vivian’s aggressive approach, their minds lingered on the demise of the Simone family name.

For the next hour and a half, Vivian paced through the banquet hall, making casual conversation with key names attending the party. She revealed scandals on those who had wronged her in the past and exchanged pleasantries and bargains with those who had not.

“Sir Gywn, it’s such a shame your wife’s scandal has cost you the favor of the treasury committee.”

“Yes, of course! Stefan is happy to help with an investigation into the Moncrieffs.”

All the attendees realized quickly where the power balance had shifted. The rumors and nasty whispers faded away and a spectacle gathered around Lady Greymoor.

This was it, the culmination of Vivian and my efforts over the last month. With her charm and my highly optimized stat builds, the tide had finally turned against the other aristocrats.

Victory appeared near, until a bell rang, three times with clarion tones. Vivian froze. The main doors behind us swung open, and through it came Prince Pendragon and his lover.