Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Chapter 417 - Heist

“It’s alright, Mel. We’re here with you. You agreed to come, and that alone is strength. Nobody will blame you.”

Regina glanced aside as Skye spoke softly, one hand resting on Melody’s shoulder. The robed woman clutched herself, eyes darting nervously through the trees. The bandages covering part of her face had loosened slightly, slipping just enough to reveal the edge of her jaw.

xMel had been visibly tense ever since Skye declared their plan the previous day. Understandably so. She was the one with the closest connection to Baroness Hartford, and the last time they had confronted the woman, Mel had retreated entirely into herself.

Skye had hesitated to bring her. But they would almost certainly need her help. And despite her fear, Mel had insisted on coming.

Because she had to ‘protect Skye’.

As Baroness Hartford herself had supposedly told her.

The irony was not lost on Regina, considering they were now preparing to break into the Baroness’s own estate.

“Oveth,” she said, turning towards the robed man standing slightly apart from the group. His black staff was planted in the soil, a faint whisper in an undecipherable tongue leaking from beneath the enchanted hood concealing his face. “Are we ready?”

He fell silent, then turned to her and gave a single nod. “Yes.”

“And you’re certain this will work?”

“It will. The estate is layered with protective arrays, but most are of imperial make. I am well acquainted with their workings. They will be neutralised.”

Regina studied him. Those were unsettling words coming from a former member of the Undead Council. Any imperial mage would be horrified by how casually he spoke of dismantling what many would consider masterworks of magical defence.

She often wondered who Oveth truly was. Though he had proven a steadfast ally and fought fiercely against the Council’s agents beside them, his past remained largely a mystery. All she knew was that his mind was attuned to the arcane in a way few imperial arch mages could match.

A fact his modest strength when they first met hadn’t reflected. Like the rest of them, however, he had grown considerably since then.

The soft clink of metal drew her attention as Briana approached, cerulean cloak brushing against her armour. The Oathbound’s eyes were fixed on the patch of utter blackness ahead of them at the clearing’s edge, from which a thin tether of dark light stretched to the tip of Oveth’s staff.

“I will enter first,” she said evenly.

Oveth shook his head. “We enter together. There are spatial distortions within the estate. Separation could prove disastrous.”

Briana frowned faintly but nodded.

Regina turned to the others. “Skye. Mel. Are you ready?”

Skye met her gaze, dimples flickering as she gave a small smile. “We are.” She released Mel’s shoulder, taking her gently by the arm instead and guiding her forward. Then her expression sharpened. “Let’s go.”

Regina pulled up a cowl to shadow her face and drew her sabre, running her fingers along the blade as mana flowed through it, glyphs glimmering faintly in response. Briana unlatched her weapon, its blade flaring to life in brilliant azure. Skye conjured her crescent blades. Mel slipped her bandaged hands beneath her sleeves, muttering under her breath. Oveth drove his staff into the ground. A surge of mana rippled outward across the clearing. Dark runes flashed briefly on bark and soil before sinking from sight.

Until now, they had remained veiled both by distance and magic. That concealment wouldn’t last much longer. If they failed today, they would have to flee, and there was no telling how far.

Regina prayed it would not come to that.

A faint tremor rippled through the air, followed by pale mist seeping up from the ground. It crept forward like something alive, sliding through the undergrowth towards the distant estate.

Regina suppressed a shiver.

Minutes passed.

Then she saw it — a mist climbing higher in the distance, forming a dim, translucent dome above the trees.

She looked to Skye, who occasionally glanced at the empty space beside her, tracking something unseen.

Finally, Skye exhaled. “It’s time.”

Oveth lifted his staff. The patch of blackness deepened, edges sharpening until it resembled a true rift torn through reality. All five stepped through together.

Cold pressure swept over Regina’s body. The world distorted for a heartbeat — and she found herself standing beside a frost-lined gravel path bordered by winter-dead shrubs. Ahead rose the Baroness’ mansion, wide and silent beneath the greyed sky. Overhead, the mist stretched like a vast, colourless veil, eclipsing the sun.

They were inside. No alarms. No defensive wards triggered. Oveth’s magic had worked.

Regina hadn’t quite doubted him—this was the man who had devised entry into and escape from Beld Thylelion—but seeing it succeed was reassuring. She was also grateful they had avoided the soldiers posted along the estate’s walls.

She did not mistake that for safety, however.

Skye had warned them they would only have a brief window to find the Tribute.

“Remember,” Skye said quietly, eyes scanning the grounds, “try not to kill anyone.”

Regina stepped forward—

Then froze as crushing pressure descended on her.

Behind his hood, Oveth clicked his tongue, the sound echoing strangely. He began casting at once, staff glowing black as a half-transparent shroud of smoke coiled around them.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“As expected,” he said. “Orthodox magic is not the only force guarding this place. The prismite spirit wasn’t fully nullified. Skye, place a Severance Anchor. Now.”

Skye’s heel struck the ground with a sharp click.

“Wha—” Regina had barely started before the world lurched violently. The ground vanished beneath her, and in the next instant, they were standing outside the estate’s walls.

“The prismite is trying to banish us.” Oveth raised his staff. “Skye. Activate the Anchor.”

Skye vanished in a shimmer of white. The shadowy veil around them rippled, part tearing away as if to follow her while the rest folded. Regina felt herself pulled — and in the blink of an eye, they stood once more on the gravel path before the mansion.

Her eyes widened.

The world twisted again.

This time, they stood in a corridor, soft carpet muffling their steps as painted tapestries stretched away into dimness.

Skye vanished again. The smoke tightened, and they were wrenched back outside.

Another shift. Then another.

Each time, the estate displaced them. Each time, Skye’s Severance snapped them back.

The fifth displacement deposited them in a wide, unused room, sheets draped over furniture and shelves lining the walls.

A thin, startled sound escaped Mel.

Skye turned to her. “Are you okay, Mel? Look at me.”

Mel flinched, gaze darting as though the room might collapse around them. Her mouth worked, struggling to form words. Skye frowned. She vanished once more, and the world snapped, placing them again outside the mansion.

Mel steadied. Her breathing slowed.

Regina scanned the grounds, bracing for another shift.

None came.

Oveth looked upward. “The prismite has likely exhausted too much of its reserve. Forced spatial translocation consumes too much mana. Had it been wiser, it would have conserved strength for the arrays I have yet to counter. It’s inexperienced.”

Skye shot him a short look as she stepped away from Mel. “Lucky us.”

“What we require now goes well beyond luck.”

“Where to next?” Briana asked.

Skye’s attention shifted slightly, eyeing something to the side. Several seconds passed.

“The rear of the estate,” she eventually answered. “There’s a garden.”

They moved along the outer wall. Regina kept her gaze on the mansion and thought she glimpsed movement behind the windows. Perhaps a servant. She hoped they would know to retreat to safety if necessary.

Behind the mansion lay a garden of dense, bare hedges.

Or partly bare.

As they followed the narrow paths inward, barren shrubs gave way to patches of green pushing through as though coaxed by lingering warmth. The deeper they went, the more the growth spread, until the hedges stood in full leaf.

A bird trilled somewhere overhead. A faint floral scent reached her.

The atmosphere tensed.

They rounded the final bend. Briana lifted an arm, halting them.

“Beautiful…” Mel whispered.

Regina took in the sight.

The garden was a contained pocket of summer. Flowerbeds curved in sweeping arcs, colours spilling from crimson and violet to gold and cyan. Bees drifted lazily among them, and the air held a faint, unnatural warmth that encouraged calm despite the tension lurking beneath.

At Dawnlight Palace, the royal oleanders were kept blooming through winter by magic, but those were just the trees. Never an entire garden.

At the centre stood a large, uncut emerald on a pedestal, encircled by etched runes and arrays pulsing with power. Around it were more reagents than Regina had ever seen in one place, woven into the lines of the flowerbeds and foliage.

It was a carefully sequestered oasis.

And it wasn’t empty.

At the far end stood a white gazebo. Four figures waited before it.

Two were young — younger than Regina. A boy in fitted armour bore a scar down his eye and cheek, sword and shield ready. Beside him stood a blonde girl with brass goggles perched on her forehead, a compact crossbow in one hand and a flask of vivid blue liquid in the other, more secured across a bandolier at her chest.

It took Regina a moment to place her, but she realised she had seen the girl during a brief encounter with Baroness Hartford in Elystead, at last year’s Providing Ceremony.

The other two were slightly older. One wore light, dark armour, hair braided beneath a metal headband, a faint burn scar marking her cheek. A claymore rested point-first in the grass before her. The other leaned against the gazebo’s railing, brown curls framing her face, a klert dangling loosely from one hand. Her attire was lighter, but she carried herself with easy confidence.

Three matched Sir Leon’s descriptions of those who worked closely with Baroness Hartford. He had said that, while capable, they were nowhere near the threat the Baroness herself had posed when they fought her.

Still, given how quickly that woman had supposedly grown in strength, Regina refused to underestimate anyone tied to her.

Her focus shifted past them to a small figure seated half-hidden on the gazebo steps, draped in black folds.

The air stilled as both sides clearly measured each other.

When Briana stepped forward, the scarred youth lifted his sword.

The woman with the klert was the first to speak.

“Well, this is dramatic,” she said, her tone entirely too casual. “Right on cue, though. We were just starting to wonder when you lot would finally show up.”

Regina stiffened.

A trap?

Skye tensed beside her.

The minstrel cracked a smile. “Oh, settle down. I’m having you on. Truth be told, our lot didn’t have the dimmest idea you were coming. If you’d shown up two minutes earlier, you’d have caught us elbow-deep in our own gear trying to remember which straps go where. Some very lofty—but unnamed—people don’t know how good they’ve got it.”

Regina eased slightly, though she didn’t lower her guard.

“Rosa,” the blonde girl said quietly, “are those the same ones that—?”

“They are,” the minstrel—Rosa—nodded. “But let’s not dwell too much on that just now, yeah? Since the lady of the house is otherwise occupied, I reckon that leaves introductions and hospitality to us.”

She pushed off the railing and sauntered forward a few steps, dipping into an exaggerated bow. “Allow me the formalities. I am Madame Rosalina—Certainty, Charming, Mendacious, and yes, Breathtaking—Hale. Sometimes travelling musician, ever-reluctant confidante, and professional nuisance to Her Ladyship.”

She gestured lazily to the others. “Behind me you will find, in absolutely no meaningful order, Shin Thornthon, keeper of dusty tomes; Allyssa Astrey, practitioner of alchemy’s more questionable yet effective aromas; and Kat Breeden, our currently-in-training hired blade, for whom I am still crafting a suitably intimidating moniker.”

She gave a cheerful shrug. “Together, we form what certain romantically inclined souls call the Five Flames of Hartford. The fifth is out at the moment, which is probably for the best. He gets a touch territorial. And he bites.”

Regina stared at her.

Did she…not have any regard for the situation? Or was she perhaps deliberately stalling?

“Rosa…” the armoured woman muttered. “Is this really the time?”

“Of course it’s the time,” Rosa replied. “I’m trying to make a good impression here, so don’t ruin it for me, okay?”

“Make a good impression on who?” the girl with the goggles asked.

Rosa tapped a finger against her lips. “Secret.”

Regina exchanged a brief look with Skye.

She started weaving a spell. Briana’s aura flared. Skye tapped her heel against the ground. Oveth’s mana stirred low in the air, and after a heartbeat of hesitation, silver light gathered faintly beneath Mel’s robes.

Rosa looked at them and sighed. “Now that’s just rude.”

“Do you have the Tribute?” Skye asked.

“Tribute?” A fleeting, perfectly puzzled look crossed the minstrel’s face.

“It is behind them,” Oveth said.

Skye’s gaze flicked past the group to the small figure seated on the gazebo steps, her expression tightening.

Regina had recognised it the moment they arrived. Even without seeing the face, she knew.

This was the Tribute. The one she had believed they were fated to find in Beld Thylelion. The one the Baroness had taken.

Skye’s voice cooled. “I doubt you’ll listen, but…we don’t have to fight here. The Tribute is dangerous. Let us take her. We’ll keep her safe. No one has to be hurt.”

Rosa idly swung the klert by its neck, considering Skye for several seconds. “I should probably mention this before you take my ‘no’ and run headfirst into it,” she said. “Do you know what the last thing that made a splash at this estate was?”

No one answered.

The woman smiled. “A dragon. Our resident cat killed it.” She pointed at the scarred youth in armour. “He’s wearing part of it now. So…maybe you want to reconsider your plans?”

Regina’s pulse quickened as Skye stepped forward.

That was her response.

Skye spoke a single word.

“Move.”