Beware the Black Feathers
"Frederica, beware the black feathers scattering under the sun. It is an omen that the crows will come to you. If the emperor's crows have seen you, do not resist. Resistance will only prolong the pain."
"I really hated crows as a kid. And now, as an adult, I end up hearing their caws."
Cornelius Noir, commonly known as the Intelligence Bureau—the emperor's shadowy secret division. Though "secret" in name, it was an open secret among Orléans' high society, which only made it all the more terrifying: the emperor's ferocious crows.
Their symbol, a beak-shaped mask, and their black uniforms had become icons of terror for those who defied the emperor.
And today, Frederica was shedding that mask and uniform.
"Are you really going to quit just like this?"
"It's been over a month since I submitted my resignation. Isn't it a bit late to ask now?"
Frederica turned from the mask on her desk to face her junior's question.
"If you're thinking of grabbing me by the ankle now, forget it. I never planned to wear this mask for life like our seniors from the previous cohort."
"I get that, but... what am I supposed to do after you leave?"
Frederica thought her junior seemed even more brazen than usual today, though she was never one for perfect etiquette.
"Just pick up where I left off."
"That's the problem. Once you're gone, won't all the dealings with superiors and paperwork supervision fall on me?"
Frederica chuckled at her junior shaking her head like the future looked pitch black.
"You've had it easy enough so far. And wasn't it you who said desk work is safer and better than fieldwork?"
"That was back when I was a clueless rookie. Now, rolling in the field feels easier. Maybe 'cause I ain't got much book learnin'—just looking at letters makes me wanna puke."
That was her junior: a field agent through and through, born for the grit rather than a desk.
"I've told you before: always manage your hair with care and consistency. You know how much effort I put into getting this texture back."
"It's such a hassle... Anyway, why does the dye we use here always wreck my hair? It ain't cheap stuff."
"That's just how dyes are. I have a feeling even after a hundred or two hundred years, they'll still ruin your hair."
Frederica never skimped on advice for her junior. Partly because she was her direct subordinate from the next cohort, but mostly to ensure her absence could be filled seamlessly when the time came to leave.
"...Can't you just stay? I really can't handle your workload."
"You sure don't mince words with nobles."
"Nobles? Commoners? In here, everyone's stripped of their names the moment they walk through the door—highborn or street rat."
"Fair point."
Frederica closed her eyes, mulling over her junior's words—her own way of expressing reluctance at the farewell.
Years spent not as Frederica Mirhane, but as a single crow, pecking out the eyes of traitors.
"But now it's time to go back."
Time to set down those years, along with the mask.
"Marriageable age and all."
The crow had finally reclaimed its name.
—— Frederica Mirhane. Eldest daughter of the Mirhane family, and a character set to appear as a fencing instructor at École Berger in the original story. Not from the start—she's invited midway, as I recall. Early on, she pulls every aggro imaginable, disciplining the bratty Bathory for the first cathartic payoff.
"To think I'd meet her this soon..."
I'd figured September at the earliest, when the new semester starts.
But this is the Mirhane estate, and Frederica is practically the lady of the house.
What can you do when the homeowner comes home?
"Not exactly a face I wanted to see."
"I bet the eldest lady feels the same about you."
"Cheeky, Schuett. Looks like your discipline needs work. Fifteen burpees—call them out yourself, no final count from me."
I pondered as I reined in Schuett, who was testing boundaries more boldly lately.
How to pass without clashing with that woman.
Unlike with Urtic, I had no reason to get close to Frederica.
Urtic was necessary for Eclair's assignment, but not her.
Besides, original Frederica was one of the toughest characters to befriend. Gentle with her inner circle, but breaching that wall was near impossible. Even the protagonist, with no bad blood, struggled—and here I was, someone she plainly disliked.
"Fourteen! Fiftee—"
"I said no final call."
"P-please, just once, miss...!!"
First things first: stay out of sight. Avoid crossing paths.
No real reason to fear her, but still... she scared me a bit.
Her personality was worlds apart from Urtic's.
"I was gonna make it thirty, but... that's enough. Time for an outing."
"An outing...? Out of nowhere?"
"Can't keep the kid cooped up inside. She needs fresh air and play."
I lifted Hia from my lap, where she'd been munching a lollipop, and set her on her feet.
"Speaking of, who is that kid? I meant to ask earlier."
"Your little sister starting today."
"Wh-what!?"
Formally hiring Hia was simple. Borrowing Urtic's name, the butler approved without fuss.
In a world without child labor laws—fantasy perks.
"I'll watch her inside the mansion, but after hours, you're on duty. Got it?"
"No matter how you say it, that sounds like an order..."
"Feel free."
This estate had far more day-workers than live-ins. Schuett was one.
The live-ins were older; better for childcare, but shoving a kid on near-strangers was rude.
"Shall we?"
"Not even married, and she has a kid..."
Ignoring Schuett's lament, I took Hia's hand and headed out.
Kids need dirt under their nails, after all.
——I'd ditched the wheelchair even while nursing Urtic. No twinges left—fully healed.
Thanks to Urtic's tea? Anyway, it let me stroll outside safely.
Outing meant the walled garden, but still.
"The stares are getting to me."
The garden was lovely. Save one thing.
"Not every day the young miss sits in the grass gazing at flowers—with a kid, no less."
"Even so. Feels like we're zoo animals."
Gazes from all sides. Servants blinking, sneaking peeks like we'd sprouted horns.
"You there."
"Y-yes?"
"Show's over? Gawking instead of working? That's not why we hired you."
Channel the villainess: sharp and venomous. Reputation dips more? What's left to tank?
"Hia, what're you staring at?"
Meanwhile, Hia slipped from my arms, squatting in the grass, fixated on something.
"Ants."
"Ants, huh. An ant parade."
Hia watched the line marching intently, like committing it to memory.
Makes sense—kids find everything wondrous. Given her origins, she knew even less than most her age.
"Carrying something huge."
"Ants can lift dozens of times their body weight. Tiny but mysterious insects."
Everything in nature's mysterious, but... felt like I was a kindergarten teacher. Odd vibe.
Is parenting like this? Complicated, even beyond Urtic.
"Schuett, wanna watch too?"
"Me? Uh... ants at my age?"
"Thought you were around my age. So I'm the senile one?"
"N-nooo!! I mean... I'll watch! Watching!"
Now Schuett squatted beside us— a ridiculous trio: noble miss, her maid, clueless kid. All mesmerized by ants.
What a sight.
"..."
But I didn't hate it. Wanted this once. With a sibling.
Though he wasn't here.
"What are you doing?"
"As you see: outing."
A gaze from behind—amused at our folly?
"Anyway, didn't I say focus on your work?"
"I've focused plenty. Can't I take a break?"
Another servant? I started to turn—
"What does that—"
A sudden doubt.
No one here doesn't know me. Even if not, no mistaking Mirhane pale-pink hair.
No servant would casual-tutoy me.
Eclair or Urtic? No—the voice wasn't theirs.
Then who behind me?
"Long time no see, but still no manners, Bathory."
One answer.
"Frederica... sis?"
"Yes, me. But that's odd."
Frederica Mirhane.
"You calling me sis."
The lady of the house had arrived.