𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨 | 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝐈𝐕

No matter how good of a strategy Wolf possessed, it would be near impossible to take down a kingdom with wit alone. But there was something that could turn the tide, another thing crucial for strategic planning.

Information.

And that was precisely what she was collecting right now.

***

Concerning Countess Isolde von Mareva, she would have to wait a little while more before sending the duchess a letter. The Countess was the type of woman to use the excuse of the delay of human message carrying to go through with things before the nobles superior to her were even aware—she wasn't underneath such underhanded tricks.

In a sense, she had aided the royals in a way.

She idly tested the fluidity of the Von Mareva County's local ink, humming as she imagined how long it would take to properly finish the letter. Her gaze languidly landed on the copies of the countess' letters which she used as reference and she huffed out a laugh—this was actually quite fun, against all odds.

She morphed her form again, letting auburn locks of hair cascade down the sides of her face, the hair in the back pulled back into many braids tied together into a bun—all that had changed there was the length and colour of the hair, the style hadn't. She flexed her fingers to get a feel of the unfamiliar body and scrunched her nose.

It was uncomfortable, but she would manage.

Rolling her shoulders, she grabbed her quill and dipped the tip into some ink, testing out strokes in order to get a feel for Countess Isolde von Mareva's writing style. It didn't take long, her current body swiftly adapting to the strokes and curves of the countess' elegant manuscript to such a level that it took less than an hour for her to fully grasp the way the woman wrote.

Now, she had to observe the way the countess wrote, the voice and tone emitted from the sentences and the way the language was formulated. She was, after all, a poetess—there wasn't any way she would forget such details when they were a crucial part of what she did.

It took longer to settle in the skin of Countess Isolde von Mareva, but by the end, the letter she had to write came to her easier than most would think. The countess liked toying with the people she conversed with, and she always insinuated more than what she wrote straight up.

With the body she donned, this would be easy.

When she finally sent the letter away, she felt her body fluidly melt back into her own, young adult form, her hair still the same blonde as this morning. She wouldn't turn off the polymorphing until she was fully done with her job—no, she still had something to do.

She stood by and watched as a crowd formed around an announcement she had put up in the main square, keeping her eyes peeled for her informant. In barely a few minutes, she appeared, donning unremarkable clothes and her face sprinkled with soot. The girl simply passed by her, handing her a scroll before continuing on her way. Maestra smirked, finally leaning away from the wall and walking past the crowd.

She instinctively remembered what she had written and scoffed at the commoners' curious reactions.

{ None can be forever erased. }

She clutched the scroll in her hand and kept walking, passing by the bustling people of the district. She just had to check over one more thing before she was done with this mission. When she reached a quiet alley, she unfurled the scroll and read its contents, nodding her head as she only confirmed what she knew.

The countess' troops were beginning to rebel.

She creased her eyes in amusement as she imagined the scene and started walking again. When she reached another cavern, she strode in and threw the scroll into the fireplace she found inside. She gave the sputtering owner a sweet smile and walked right past anyone, back into the dark dampness of the alley.

Now, she just had to wait.

Dear Grand Duchess Asfi,

I trust this note reaches you in the gracious splendour befitting your station. My humble self, undeniably beneath you, finds itself invested in the well-being of its beloved people. You see, it has come to my attention that they are... underappreciated. Given such an oversight, I will be taking them back with me, where they rightfully belong. A handful of regiments surely makes little difference to one of your considerable influence, yes? Why, I daresay a loss of a few thousand could hardly tarnish the kingdom's illustrious reputation.

I am quite intrigued regarding the troubles you are facing as of late—I simply cannot wait to witness how the events play out from the cold comfort of my county!

Despite these words, be not sorrowed by my modest departure from this esteemed alliance—the price of my promises is inconsequential compared to your remarkable authority. My, I might even consider it greater than that of the monarchs themselves! Forgive my impertinence in mentioning such rumours, Grand Duchess, but what's a Countess to do when such delightful thoughts are so carelessly spoken?

With that, I wish your path nothing but favour. May the best side, indeed, come to prosper—though it's best if both sides are equal, don't you agree?

Ever your humble servant,
Isolde von Mareva, Countess of the Far North.