I reincarnated as the Duke from the North.

Diary log #11 excerpt 4

 

Today has been the most exciting and frightening day of my life. From hiding for our lives in the mayhem of murder to standing above the servants as the new Duchess. From wanting to vomit to almost fainting. They looked at me with judgement in their glares. I am sure they know. I am not even a proper Hodge, yet I am to marry the greatest noble in the land. I know as well. I don’t fit this position. My sister would be better. They would accept a legitimate child over me.

I felt anxiety looking at the paintings of eras long gone that hung in the corridor. The cloak I wore was present in many of them. It suddenly felt heavy on me.

I slipped the cloak off my back and I asked the maid. “Can you give this back to the Tarion?”

The maid scowled, but took it anyway, gently folding it. “I will have it cleaned for His Grace.” Her stern eyes glanced to the right at the large, dark door.

“Your Duchess suite. Your Grace.”

The maid opened the door and it felt like I was walking into another world. There was enough room for an entire family, cousins and all, to live. On a dark oak floor lay a red carpet by a blazing fireplace. A large four-post bed was draped with a red curtain, and more red coloured the satin sheets and pillows. The walls also match the red motif. I walked further into the room, touching the office table made of mahogany, reflecting fire and candlelight. I walked more to the back and there was an immense wall cased in books next to a window seat with pillows arranged The perfect reading corner.

“His grace ordered those especially for you.” The maid noted.

It was too much for me. This room. The title. Too much. But I was here anyway. And so, I thought I should do my duty as the wife of a Duke.

When the maid was about to leave, I asked. No, I ordered, “Help me prepare.”

“First are greetings. Like hello. Or good evening, esteemed gentleman.” The pyjama-dressed ninja dropped to his knees, groaning from my gut punch. “Come on, little guy, I didn’t even use mana. It can't have hurt that much.” I cracked the knife with my mana-imbued fingers. Shattered pieces of metal fell on my floor.

I crouched and another black knife cut the air above me from behind. “After greetings, we exchange names,” My elbow cracked a nose, and the new attacker collapsed. “For example, Duke Greystone of Osberg, it's a pleasure to meet you.” I gestured for the two hiding -male and female forms - in the shadows to respond. Silence.

“Rude bastards. Fine. We will talk the only way warriors can.” I started bouncing on each foot, embodying my inner Muhammed Ali and Bruce Lee. Right hand to my chin, left low to my crotch.

“Come, I won't hurt you too much,” I goad with a smirk.

The assailants started sprinting. Their speeds greatly exceeded their third circles. I heard shings as they pulled out a one-sided short sword and a pair of shredder-like claws. A right claw failed to scratch my bare chest and a front kick pushed the ninja away. I weaved to the right and a short sword cut the air. Switching to Southpaw, I threw a right hook to her spleen. To her knee, she dropped. A left uppercut connected on her chin, rattling her to the ground.

Like hopping on a bike.

I danced back, moving my head away from repeated clawings. Heightened Senses, slowed the stranger, his attacks a breeze to evade compared to the hipster bandit. My bare right foot flickered, smacking the masked man on his right cheek. Using the momentum, I jumped, spun, and tornado-kicked the intruder in the chest. The unconscious body bounced across my master bedroom until a boot stopped them from sliding on the floor.

Inspect.

Oh… I see…

If Tarion's memory served me well, the Umbra is a secretive recon, espionage, and investigative group, funded and operated by the Greystone Household. Managed by vassal families, they specialise in camouflage techniques, close-quarters combat, and assassination. A prized jewel in the Greystone crown. However, with its secrecy, come archaic rules. Rules of succession. Which I wasn't considered for, for obvious reasons. The vassal families decide whether to give a greystone heir the keys to the group. And since my father died, the keys no longer had any worthy owners. Until me.

The short woman stepped over her shadow. Cracking her wrapped fingers, the fourth circle slowly strode towards me, hunching her back like a wild beast.

I smiled wide, feeling absolutely ecstatic.

Finally, a new training partner!

Grasping fingers appeared centimetres from my nose. A step back and she then grabbed the air. The air burst and popped within her fist.

Lands above…

The agent of Umbra dropped low, trying to hold my leg. Past memories of another world kicked in.

I fell on her, hands on her shoulders. My leg spread backwards on the floor.

A good old sprawl always works.

I swiftly repositioned myself to her back, wrapping my arm around the small neck of the hooded shadow. In a tight headlock, the shadow struggled and wiggled. I sensed mana in her fingers and quickly let go, standing straight again.

Could have gotten my arm pinched off.

From all fours, the umbra pounced into the air, with two fingers. The back of my left hand parried the fingers away. Mana extended from the tips.

Ooo, I gotta learn this!

She evaded my right straight, countering with a left hook to the body. My right knee blocked it. My right knuckles backhand at her face as a response. Wind ruffled her hood as she bent back, retreating by a metre.

I inspected her attributes again. Senses at double digits, strength, and agility stood out, being five points higher than the rest of her attributes. A silver grade with stats like this and no system.

I am surrounded by talent. How fortunate I am!

I saw the ticking clock on the wall.

"Ah, I wish I could play longer, but I have to meet someone soon.”

A wild right fist careened for my head. I guided it below; my left hand held it down. A gust flapped the shadow’s mask, and my fist stopped an inch from her face

“One.”

With imperceptible speed, my hands switch positions. “Two.”

The umbra threw a desperate left hook, but it was intercepted by my right palm. Knuckles touched her built chest. “Three.”

From feet, knees, waist and shoulder, I spun. Power gathered to my knuckles and I twisted my left wrist. My one-inch punch blew the leader metres away. She rolled before flipping herself into a cat-like stance.

Plonk,

My past knowledge is acceptable? Nice. The system's not so bad after all. But level fifteen? I thought it would be higher.

“Three times. Three times, I beat you. Is the test over, Beatrice?”

The test? Survive a fight with five umbras. At once. Only then you are acknowledged by Umbra as its leader.

The female umbra flinched. “And they can stop pretending to sleep now. I got places to be, you know.” The shadows woke up like zombies, running to kneel before their leader. Masks are removed and hoods are brought down. A valet with a hurt chest, a footman holding his stomach, a carriage driver with a bleeding nose, a handmaid with a bruised chin, and a head maid revealed their faces.

Under our noses the whole time.

“How long, Your Grace?” Beatrice asked.

“Suspected since the day of the mayor's demise. I figured Greystone does not hire normal people.” And I can see your attributes. I reasoned out in the moment that it was Beatrice who always helped Vanessa in the shadows, giving her hints. She probably converted to her side when the Greystone family collapsed, preferring her as a true successor over my brother. That’s how shit he was.

“Why now? Today?” I asked.

Beatrice kneeled with her fellow Umbra. “You are strong enough now.”

It makes sense but it still pisses me off.

“So, how’s your investigation been going? Find any leads to the mayor’s ties to the underground.” The shadows look at each other. “You are Umbra. You don't waste time. What have you learned?”

Knuckles to the ground, Beatrice reports. “The mayor had excluded certain key members of local gangs from paying taxes. Using the Osberg guard, he protects those who traffic in and out of goods. Be it drugs weapons or-”

“People. I see.”

“We have been working on a case regarding a pimp in the red district. The late mayor had been keeping his hands off him while prosecuting his rivals. He is a gangster by the name of Fjord Hasel but his victims called him Horn. Owns various unsavoury brothels known for the bad treatment of workers.”

I remembered from Tarion’s memory that prostitution wasn’t illegal but it was heavily regulated and taxed. Neither seemed to apply to this Horn fellow.

“Good, continue with the case. Give me regular updates.”

“Yes, Your Grace!” They exclaimed.

“I must say, Davis has been quite glued to the dowager as of recently.” I stared down at Beatrice. Making sure she understood clearly.

“Not one bag of poison tea has been found. He is Umbra. Was. He can hide evidence. But I will find out his motives.” Beatrice pounded her chest. “I swear on Umbra’s honour.”

I smiled. “Then it will be done. I have some of the tea stored. Send it to be tested. And monitor the old bitch as well. I know she's about to go wild.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Suggestions for the late mayor?” I asked.

“We can leak evidence of his crimes.” The valet answered. “Even the more unsavoury kind to press. They will see your actions as just, soon enough.”

“Good plan, see it done.” My valet smiled to himself proudly.

I waited a moment to speak. “Is Susan well?”

Beatrice looked down. “She is crestfallen, realising she has failed you for so many years. She will accept whatever punishment is given gladly.”

“Give the pedantic shit a rest. Have her field ready, assuming that she is one of you. She will be in charge of finding the true culprits of my attempted murder.” Five pairs of eyes burned with determination.

“Yes, Your Grace!”

“Dismissed.”

I turned to the door on my way to take my bath, hearing my Umbra slither into the dark. I noticed my cloak folded by the bed.

I have to see her. Such a busy day.

I opened the door before Charles could knock.

“Your bath is ready, sire.”

I stood in front of a large, dark door, freshly cleaned, hair damp, wearing black breeches and a white blouse with slippers. When it was Tarion’s mother's room, she would barely sleep there. Choosing to use the Duchess suite as her office. Now there is a new lady of the house occupying the room and I feel at peace. Or Tarion does. There's no other woman more worthy than Vanessa. No one else is worthy of this room or title. But it's only for a short time. She would reach higher levels soon enough.

I sighed hard, hesitating. I knocked.

“It's me, Tarion.”

I heard footsteps and a curly-haired woman opened the door, wrapped in a deep red silk robe.

“Hello.” She studied me up and down.

My mind froze, and my gaze stuck on her.

“Want to come in?” Vanessa asked, breaking me out of the ice.

“S-sure.” I strolled into the red room, smelly perfume in the air. Vanessa slowly sat on the mattress, expecting me to talk. I stood aside, looking around, anxiously.

“How is Osberg? Acclimating to the climate?” My eyes kept drifting to her bare legs crossed together.

“I am. But it's so much colder than my hometown so it may take some time to get used to.”

“I figured. South Korea doesn't have snowstorms as harsh as today's.”

Vanessa tilted her head in confusion. “South Korea? I have only lived in Hamber since I was a babe.”

Huh?

“Is that a town near Burnid?”

HUH?

PLONK.

OH, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!