She was right. As usual, she was right. Even when she was wrong, she was somehow still right.
Dominik Tavanor was sitting in his office, wondering, not for the first time, if his daughter had secretly unlocked an [Oracle] class and not told anyone. When Verena started to worry about something, outside of her own struggles, she was always right, without fail. Even when she was undeniably wrong, such as her concerns with the sudden increase in assassinations, a situation which Dominik knew was because of Marianne, she was still right. An assassin had come for her. He was getting quite tired of being proven a fool by his own child. A child who was over four-hundred years younger than him.
As he sat, stewing in his frustration, there was a knock on the door. Dominik composed himself before speaking, "Enter."
The door opened, and the very daughter in question stepped into the room, closely followed by her lady-in-waiting. "Marianne, it's good to have you back. How was your time away?"
The woman laughed softly, shaking her head. "Don't worry, my lord. She knows the truth."
He nodded. "Alright. Well, I told you before, it's your life. It's your choice. Personally, I think you made the right decision by being honest." He then leaned back in his chair. "Now, why don't you both take a seat? It seems we have a lot to talk about."
They both nodded, sitting down across from him. Verena spoke first. "Father, I owe you an apology."
He turned to her, furrowing his brow. "What do you mean? It feels more like I'm the one who should be apologizing."
His daughter shook her head. "No. You were right. The assassinations I was so worried about were never a threat to us." She glanced at Marianne.
Dominik chuckled softly. "And yet, I still seem to have a dead assassin on my hands. Isn't it funny, how life goes?" He let out a heavy sigh. "You'd think I'd have learned to trust your intuition, by now."
Verena rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine. We were both wrong. That's not important." She leaned forward. "There are much more important things to talk about."
He raised an eyebrow. "Really? More important than whoever's trying to kill you?"
She glanced at Marianne, who nodded. "Yes, my lord."
Dominik was surprised. If even Marianne agreed, it must be something quite significant. "Alright, you have my attention."
Verena chose to start. "While Marianne was gone, she gained enough experience to level up and get a new skill point."
Dominik nodded slowly. "Alright. Skills are nice, but I feel like one skill isn't enough to overshadow a potential threat to your life."
Marianne interjected, "Well, my lord, that entirely depends on the skill."
He just sighed, shaking his head. "The list of skills that would have that level of impact is incredibly short. Unless you're going to say that... you..." He trailed off, his calm demeanor cracking as he realized what the only reasonably possible skill that could be this important was. "No..."
Verena looked at her father with concern and confusion. "Father? What's wrong? We haven't even told you what it is yet."
Dominik's hand trembled, ever so slightly. He looked genuinely worried. "No. No! I swear to the gods above, Marianne, if you tell me you've taken a [Battle Maid] skill, I'll... I'll..." He stopped as their faces told him everything he needed to know. He slumped forward, burying his face in his hands.
Verena and Marianne were completely taken aback. Verena reached out, concerned. "Father, what is it? What's so bad about a [Battle Maid] skill?"
Dominik groaned, looking up. "[Battle Maid]s are terrifyingly powerful. I don't think you fully appreciate the significance of a universal stat boost and non-reductive experience transfer. Even a simple five percent boost in power, when dealing with high-level individuals, can be massive. You need to remember, the growth in power for each point in a given stat is not linear. Every additional point makes a bigger difference.
Because of that, a five percent boost, on paper, isn't a five percent boost, in practice." He shakes his head. "And don't even get me started on the experience transfer. Surely you can understand why that would be a concern, right?" They both nodded. "[Battle Maid]s are closely monitored, even in Agoria. You have to report it to the local lord of System Affairs and gain approval before the skill is selected. If someone finds out you've circumvented those regulations, there are severe repercussions, for both of you."
Verena was appalled. "That's ridiculous! The system is a fundamental aspect of the world! Why should a government get a say in someone's skills!? It's a gross violation of privacy!"
Dominik gave her a sympathetic look. "I never said I liked it, or agreed with it, little amethyst. I think you're right. There are so many other skills, at least as powerful, that have zero regulations, but that's just how it is. If you ask me, it's really a political thing. [Battle Maid] skills can pretty much only appear for the servants of a noble house, and the idea of their rivals having access to that kind of power frightens them, to no end. It's not right, but it's the way it is."
During this conversation, while Dominik was sitting in dread, and Verena was furious, Marianne was silent. However, she was forming a plan. "My lord, you said it must be approved by the local lord of System Affairs, yes? Correct me if I'm wrong, but is that not Baron Morel?"
Dominik nodded, and Verena bristled. "You're saying they're going to punish us because we didn't get approval from that fat bastard, first!?"
Her father sighed, shaking his head. "Verena, he's still a noble. Have some respect."
"No!" She was past the point of listening to more of this. "I refuse to let a Baron tell me, the heir of Count Tavanor, what I can and can't do!"
"Verena..." The Count began, but Marianne held up a hand.
"Actually, my lord, I have to agree with your daughter, this time, and I have a plan. Tell me, do you have someone we can trust, who could forge the necessary documents?"
He nodded slowly. "I do, but that wouldn't solve the problem. The approving lord also keeps a copy, to avoid such a situation. If we forged them, it would be obvious, since he wouldn't have the counterpart."
Marianne just smiled wider. "Oh, but he will have the counterpart. I'll see to that."
Dominik just sighed. "Even if you planted the documents, he would still know. A [Battle Maid] approval isn't the kind of thing you just forget about."
"Perhaps, my lord, but his successor wouldn't know that, after his untimely death."
Count Tavanor stiffened. "Marianne, are you suggesting we assassinate a member of the nobility to circumvent the law?"
She shook her head. "No, my lord, I'm suggesting we use an assassination that's going to take place, regardless, to do so."
"And why would we be doing that, Marianne?" Dominik was still skeptical. Verena, however, had a look of realization on her face, and she was the one who answered the question.
"Because the Baron was the one who sent the assassin. Marianne told me, last night." She was starting to understand what Marianne was planning.
Her father, though, was still confused. "What? How do you know that, Marianne?"
She grinned, her shadow pulling up around her and forming the mask she usually wore as [The Black Death]. "Because he tried to hire me, first."
He was speechless. After a few moments, he shook his head. "I'm going to regret this, but explain your plan, in detail."
"The story we'll weave is simple. When the Baron received the approval request, he knew that, thanks to house Tavanor's connections, and because of lady Verena's lack of a class, he couldn't justify denying us. So, instead, he sent the approval, to lower our guard, and then sent that assassin to try and get rid of one or both of us. We stopped the assassin, and had him killed, in retribution."
Dominik sighed. "And when you go in to kill him, you plant the documents necessary to support this story, am I right."
"Precisely, my lord."
He groaned. "Why couldn't you have proposed something ridiculous? Something I could just dismiss, out of hand? Now I have to go have a [Battle Maid] approval forged, and plan the assassination of one of the lords under my domain." He waved to both of them, digging through his desk. "You can leave. Oh! I do need to know the specifics of your skill, Marianne. What variant did you get?"
Marianne responded softly, already aware of how her lord would take the answer. "Umm... [Oathsworn Battle Maid], my lord."
Dominik Tavanor, the five-hundred-year-old vampiric Count, stared for a few moment, blinked twice, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "I need a fucking drink."