Chương 175: Interlude - The Glass Half Empty

Mira Shaa Baanu isn't sure what she did to deserve any of this. She's supposed to be meant for greatness! The heiress to one of the greatest noble houses in Stebaari, destined to grow to prominence under her reign. For while the Gaa are stuck in the past, and the Goa are obsessed with the future, House Shaa alone stands in the present, focusing on the incredible potential of trade along the Sagaa River.

Those traitorous curs in the colonies and their ridiculous war may have set those plans back a bit, but at the very least Mira was born—as any noble should be—with power and glory already woven into her future. Yet, somewhere along the way, it all started falling apart. No, not somewhere. Loathe though she is to admit it, as she paces the halls of her estate and pointedly ignores her family's pleas for direction or at least explanation, she knows exactly where it all started.

That backstabbing bitch Talla is to blame for everything bad that has ever happened to her. They should have been best friends. They were for a while. Mira saw her scholarly cousin's potential and graciously invited her to join hands to create the finest ranger team the order had ever known.

The plan was simple—with Talla's magic, Mira's leadership, and their inherent superiority as daughters of Baanu, the two of them would rise rapidly through the ranks of the order and take control of the organization from that lowborn barbarian in charge. Everybody knows that "Lady" Faarah was installed at the head of the order by the empress in order to limit noble influence on one of the pillars of imperial stability.

Just as everybody knows that it was a mistake that degraded the order until it became the miserable den of mercenaries it is today. As an [Inheritor], Mira was well placed to take control of that institution and restore it to proper form. Then Talla had to go and ruin everything. In hindsight, it should have been obvious that her constant attempts to gainsay Mira had been a ploy to gain control of the team and hide the fact that she had grossly overexaggerated her own abilities.

Goa is never satisfied with what they have—always coveting the achievements of others. Talla's behavior drove the team apart, damaged morale, and by the time Mira realized her mistake, blood had already been spilled beyond what Goa's heir could fix. Of course, Talla tried to blame Mira with the same stupid excuses that had driven the team apart in the first place.

"You're pushing too hard", "We're not ready for that kind of mission", "I'm a generalist, not a pure healer." Pathetic. As if two noblewomen couldn't accomplish in their sleep anything fit for the scum Faarah peeled off the streets. It's no wonder she went and subordinated herself to that clanless man. Probably sleeping with him, the slut. Well, now he's dead, and good riddance. That's not what's troubling Mira, though.

Nor even her mother's death—if anything, that's a boon, since it makes her the de facto matriarch. The problem is that the house she inherited is on fricking fire, and she has no friends to help solidify her power. Not that it's her fault, of course. Once again, that wretched bitch rears her head. Mira is a perfectly charming young lady, and was always surrounded by a retinue of close friends. Until she spurned Talla—for good reason—and half of her support network cut ties overnight.

The rest of them dwindled to nothing over the course of a few years. Mira may have slightly underestimated just how much influence Rara was willing to spend in defense of her older sister. And also how much she had to spend. How a vapid socialite like her managed to get seemingly their entire generation in her pocket remains a mystery to Mira. She's even rumored to have slept with every young lord not directly related to her—and half the ladies. Lucky bitch.

Not that Mira would ever abuse her station like that even if she could. She's a proper lady who would never stoop to such wanton behavior. Apart from a few dalliances with some of her more handsome hired bodyguards, but that hardly counts. What kind of girl doesn't experiment a little? In any case, that leaves Mira standing alone, the heir apparent to House Shaa, the Inquisition, and the Rangers, and with absolutely no way to keep any of it.

Mother had been mostly reclusive after taking control of the inquisitors, the grandmistress of the rangers was technically supposed to be appointed by the empress, and Mira could already feel the greedy tendrils of her relatives closing in to seize a piece of her birthright. She'd give anything for some support. Somebody— anybody on her side that isn't hiding a knife behind their back. Even Maari, that shameful outcast who'd embarrassed the family by marrying below her station, would be better than nothing.

Through everything else, Mira's little sister has never stopped corresponding, and for the first time in years she regrets not writing back. Maari would stand with her, no matter what—but she's too far away to make a difference. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Her thoughts are interrupted by yet another incessant knock on the door.

"Lady Shaa—" the servant begins. Mira whirls on the young woman and brandishes her pistol, firing a warning shot into the wall above her head.

"Not fricking now!" she screams.

"Leave me alone until I call for you!" The servant scurries away in terror and Mira flops down in front of her vanity, tossing the firearm away in disgust. She shouldn't be showing weakness like that. The stress is getting to her. Worst of all, she has a possible solution right in front of her. She just has no idea what it actually is. [Curse of the Inheritor] The conditions have been met, and you may now claim your inheritance. It just... appeared on the day that filthy troglodyte murdered her mother.

Mira would have just activated it immediately if Mother had ever actually mentioned anything about it. She knows that "curse" doesn't necessarily mean it's a bad thing, but why is it so vague? Why didn't Mother say anything about it? And shouldn't it be part of her class? It unnerves her in a way that she can't articulate. Like a decision she can't take back. She should obviously activate it, but every time she tries, her hands start shaking and she finds some excuse to do something else. It's pathetic. Weak.

But Mira has no choice but to admit it to herself. She's afraid. She knows that this is what she's meant for—what she was born for. But she isn't ready yet. And yet, she must be. She looks up at the embarrassing bullet hole in her wall, where she shot at a servant just for doing her job. At her own reflection in the mirror, unkempt, fur tangled where she's been repeatedly smoothing it—a nervous habit. This is it, she decides. This is the moment that will define her legacy.

Is she a worthless coward like Talla, or is she the matriarch of House Shaa? A house that will rise above its peers to become the first among equals, and perhaps one day even make a play for the throne. She clenches her fists, steels her resolve, and activates her curse. Power floods into her. Like leveling up, but multiplied a hundred times over. She can feel her attributes rising rapidly beyond her usual tier, and is instilled with the certainty that an advanced class will be waiting for her if she looks.

That's all? How embarrassing that she was so worried. She's about to check the changes in her interface when something else emerges. Mira feels a sudden wave of nausea as a bizarre, oily presence claws its way through her connection to the [World Engine] and sinks barbed tendrils into her soul.

"What?! What is—?!" She's cut off by a sharp pain that doesn't come from any physical part of her. The thing begins to burrow into her.

"A demon?! No—no, this can't be happening!" Mira shuts her eyes and focuses everything she has on resisting the foul influence. She is a daughter of Baanu, a noble of House Shaa, and her will cannot be subverted. She has training to resist the sort of spells and skills that can alter the mind and soul, as well as her own skills and contingencies. None of them work.

They might have, had the thing needed to carve a path all the way to the core of her soul, but it has barely scratched the surface before it finds a hollowed out groove that fits it so perfectly it might as well have been made for it. It had. She rises to her feet, having collapsed to the floor at some point during the struggle, as the last sparks of Mira's mind sputter out. She feels weak. Weaker than she should be, even with such a worthless host—a contingency that she never expected to need.

Whatever that little monster did to her, it damaged even her soul. Recovery is going to take longer than usual, not to mention the time to refine this new host, solidify her power base, and prepare a new contingency vessel. The monster should have been vulnerable to her, but someone has interfered with the preparations. The Alchemist? No, that misguided girl is talented, but lacks the means for a working of that magnitude. She's too preoccupied trying to destroy all of the things she was meant to inherit.

The thing behind Mira's eyes sneers down contemptuously at the alchemical firearm on the table. Weapons that empower the meek, swift transportation, cheap and accessible food and shelter for all who need it. Mistakes. They are a poison that consumes the empire from within, making their people weak and soft. Already the lizards have started to take advantage, corrupting society from within. A decade or two at most, she predicts, before it all collapses. Not on her watch.

She picks up the toppled stool and holsters her weapon, before sitting down and carefully grooming her appearance. Unfortunately, she'll have to play the part of Mira at first, though she'll have to rapidly mature her persona if she's to have any hope of putting out all these fires. It's clear that Tamara has stolen a march on her, but it won't matter in the long run. Nobody knows she's alive or even who she is. Mira didn't, Sabaah didn't, and even the Alchemist hasn't noticed.

Her plans are centuries in the making, and will not be denied. Soon she'll have control of the city, and soon after that, the empire. Then, once time permits, she can turn her attention outward once more. After all, she's sworn revenge on that uppity vessel and still has a use for the potential contained within. A lady always keeps her promises.