I reincarnated as the Duke from the North.

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Diary log #13.5

Divorce. It never once crossed my mind. I was simply following father's orders to marry a total stranger. I saw no escape. I resigned to a life as the carer of a sick man. Which I had no issues with. Plenty of experience working in an infirmary placed in the slums had set me apart as the woman for the job. So you can understand how discombobulating it was to see a man with such vitality announce he was my husband. And on the same day, as I fell to the floor in a crying mess, he asked for a divorce. Embarrassing. Luckily, the trip took my mind away from yesterday. Jen by my side, her warm shoulder giving comfort, her laugh bringing joy to my soul and Tarion. Whenever I am near him, I feel safe, as he said.

I tried many clothes. Jen and Tarion found my choices…undesirable. I don't think I dress badly. Do I? My soon-to-be ex-husband's ruby eyes examined me as I tried each dress. I felt his gaze working down my body. Like a wolf looking at where to bite to bring me down. But when his beastly gaze left me, it felt lonely.

My sister came into the store after Tarion left to work. Servants she had brought from Hamber followed behind her. She avoided looking at me as if I were an eyesore.

“Do you normally invite commoners to this establishment?” Caroline asked the store owner. Posing a noble. Typical Caroline. But she is richer than any normal noble, so does it matter?

The owner quietly reminded her that I was the Duke’s wife.

My sister laughed. “How unfortunate. To be shacked up with an illegitimate child like her. If he had working eyes, he could see a better option nearby.” She finally looked at me, then at my dress and chuckled. Jen called her a bitch numerous times. Insults flew in the air. Jen was screaming the things my mouth couldn't utter but wanted so much to say. But my thoughts were elsewhere.

I contemplated what Tarion said in the carriage. His representative. Osberg’s representative.

I saw that look in their eyes. One I have seen many times. ‘The rumours are true’ their frightened expressions say. Their movements are stiff in the middle of flight or fight. My blade makes them want to flee, and the money makes them stay. Ten were left out of the many that attacked. Most are seconds and some are very lucky first circles. Their mouths twisted as they made a decision.

A lone second circle broke the standstill. I thrust and air burst into clouds on the point of my sword. A head exploded before a sword could reach me. Chunks of an idiot’s brain covered a poor fool. I stood straight, my blade pointing to the ground.

“Is it still worth it?”

Prideful gangsters unleashed their anger, and nine advanced with blind fury. I turned away from a strike to my back while parrying a blade. Finding a wall, I faced my back to it, steadily reversing into it. Flashes of light illuminated the avenue when our steel clinked and clanged. My blade danced from sword to sword, parrying each. With my greatsword’s length hampering my ability to block, I maintain my guard with small movements, choosing to wait until their swords reache mine. Brick touched my cloak and felt a little secure. Now I only have to worry about what is in my field of vision. A sword coated in blue mana stabbed into the wall near the bleeding right cheek.

“My beautiful face!”

The second circle cut the wall down to my right shoulder. Only the fur on my cloak was disturbed as my greatsword blocked. One of the fortunate tried his luck once more and slashed from my left at my body.

“Fuck..OFF!” Mana collected in my gloved left palm. The young man’s sword hit my hand with a thunderous clap. Shock changed his face when his blade was flung out of his hold into the far wall.

Plonk

Still blocking the Seconds’ blade, I let it get slack, strafing away while the sword cut a groove into the avenue wall. The greatword rolled around my forearm and its centre of gravity flipped it back in my grip. A great slice of flaring aura cut two heads.

No More Walls.

My feet left the ground and arrived on the bricks behind. Heightened strength caused my feet to chip the wall as I jumped again. A Down slash killed. Bending under a slice to my head, a lunge slew another. A parry to my left surprised the brain-covered assailant. A pommel caved in his chest. While he vomited blood, a thrust from the enemy was repulsed away, and my mana essence sparkled as the first circle struggled to hold on to his only weapon. I pulled my sword on the stone floor, sparking as my sword grated. A side swing ripped in meat and bone. The top half fell before the bottom, gushing filth and blood.

The three left glanced at each other. Deciding in silence. They spread out. Three second circles howl with mana blazing from the weapons.

I felt calm. I felt bored. I wondered whether I had given my sizes to the tailor.

As a unit, they strike. A kamikaze attack with a fortune on the line. A stupid gamble.

I stabbed my greatsword in the ground. Three blades tinged on my blade. I looked down. My hair wild, in free fall, I handstand on my pommel. Mid-air, I tore my sword from the stone floor, slicing a man on the way up. My body spun and a mana-amoured boot crushed the middle attacker. I finished my spin with my greatsword lodged into the temple of the last man on the right. I land softly, hearing bodies drop. A gangster’s head a fountain, I whacked my crossguard, fully severing him.

“Nice.”

I bent down to wipe the blood off my weapon on one of the dead, hoping it wouldn't smell too much. I heard a rip on my back.

"I guess I need to send new measurements anyway, don't I?" I said to a corpse.

"Fuck, I forgot to keep one alive.”

Plonk,