Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 212 - Two Hundred And Twelve

The air in the southern corridor was thick and heavy with a scent that made the nose itch. It smelled of bitter roots, dried leaves, and sharp, stinging mint. Ashlyn wrinkled her nose, pulling a scented handkerchief from her pocket and pressing it to her face.

She was walking with her maid, Myra. They were taking a shortcut through the estate, avoiding the main halls where Marissa’s influence was strongest.

"Ugh," Ashlyn groaned, waving her hand in front of her face. "What is that smell? It’s awful. Like an old apothecary’s shop, selling herbs and drugs."

She stopped walking, her curiosity piqued.

"Why such a strong medicine smell?" she demanded.

Myra curtsied nervously. "It’s medicine packets, My Lady. Bought by Her Grace, the Grand Duchess. They are moving them to the South Wing storage."

Ashlyn paused her steps. Her mind began to turn. Medicine? Why would Marissa need medicine? The estate was healthy. There was no fever spreading among the servants.

"Why is she buying so much medicine?"

Ashlyn asked herself, her voice a low murmur.

It didn’t make sense. Marissa was careful with money. She audited the accounts. She didn’t waste coin on useless supplies. If she was buying this much, there was a reason. A big reason.

"I want to see," Ashlyn decided. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

She changed direction, walking toward the source of the smell. She turned a corner and found herself in a wide hallway near the storerooms.

It was a hive of activity. Guards and servants were moving back and forth, carrying large wooden crates. The crates were marked with the seals of various herbalists.

"Place them there," one of the senior guards ordered, pointing to a stack against the wall. "Careful! Don’t drop it. Her Grace said we should be careful. These are fragile."

Ashlyn watched from the shadows of a pillar. She saw the sheer volume of the supplies. There were dozens of crates. It looked like they were stocking up for a siege.

She saw a guard holding a book, checking off items. She stepped out into the light, putting on her imperious face.

"You there," Ashlyn called out.

The guard looked up, startled. He saw the Second Lady and bowed quickly. "My Lady."

Ashlyn pointed at the nearest open crate. It was filled with small, neatly tied packets of dried herbs.

"What do these treat?" Ashlyn asked, her voice sharp.

The guard hesitated. He had been given strict instructions by Marissa, but he couldn’t ignore a direct question from a family member.

"Reporting to the Second Lady," the guard said, choosing his words carefully. "According to Her Grace... these herbs are to treat cold. And to stop diarrhea."

Ashlyn raised an eyebrow. "Cold? And diarrhea?"

She looked at the mountain of crates. That was enough medicine to treat an entire city for a stomach ache.

"That is... a lot," Ashlyn said.

She turned away, dismissing the guard with a wave of her hand. She walked back down the hallway, her mind racing.

"Why buy and make so much medicine packets?" she asked herself again.

"Is Marissa planning to open a clinic?" she wondered. "Is she trying to play the saint? The benevolent Duchess who heals the poor?"

It seemed plausible. It fit Marissa’s new public image. But something felt wrong. It felt too urgent. Too massive.

She shrugged off the idea and continued walking, intending to return to her room.

But as she passed a side door, she heard voices. Two young stable boys were carrying a heavy box between them, struggling with the weight. They had stopped to rest for a second.

They were whispering.

"Treat cold and stop diarrhea," one of the boys muttered to the other, wiping sweat from his forehead. "That’s what they told us. But look at the labels on the jars inside. Fever root. Black bark."

The boy lowered his voice even more.

"My uncle is a healer," the boy whispered. "He says you only need this much of that stuff if... well, if people are dying in the streets."

He looked around nervously.

"Sounds like a plague is approaching," the boy said, fear in his eyes.

The other boy shoved him. "Hush! Don’t say much. If the Duchess hears you spreading panic, we’ll be whipped. Let’s get back to work."

They picked up the box and hurried away.

Ashlyn stood frozen in the hallway.

"A plague," she thought.

The word unlocked a memory. A deep, buried memory from her past life.

She closed her eyes, searching the timeline of the years she had lived before.

She remembered the war. The war between Eudora and Mercia. It had been brutal. Thousands had died.

"In my last life," Ashlyn thought, her heart beginning to pound, "Strathmore had a major war with Mercia. Countless deaths were recorded on the battlefields."

But there was something else. Something that happened right before the war started. Something that had weakened Strathmore, making it vulnerable to invasion.

"Before that," Ashlyn realized, her eyes snapping open, "Strathmore was already suffering. An epidemic broke out. A terrible sickness that spread through the camps and the villages."

She remembered the reports. It had been kept secret to avoid panic and to keep the enemy from knowing their weakness but it was too late.

"The soldiers were sick," she thought. "They couldn’t fight. That’s why the casualties were so high. They died from dysentery and fever as much as from swords."

She looked back toward the storeroom where Marissa’s medicine was being piled high.

Marissa was buying herbs for colds and stomach issues. The exact symptoms of the early stages of that plague.

"She’s preparing medicine for the people and the soldiers in advance," Ashlyn realized. "She knows. She knows the plague is coming to Strathmore."

Ashlyn leaned against the wall, her legs feeling weak.

"How?" she whispered. "How could she foresee this? No one knows. The spies don’t know. The King doesn’t know."

There was only one explanation. The same explanation for why Marissa had survived all traps laid for her. Why she had been one step ahead at every single turn.

Then it clicked into her. The final piece of the puzzle slammed into place.

"Marissa," Ashlyn thought to herself, a cold dread settling in her stomach. "Marissa was also given the chance of rebirth."

Ashlyn covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a gasp.

She wasn’t the only one. She wasn’t special. Marissa had come back too. And Marissa was using her second chance not just to survive, but to win the war before it even started.

Ashlyn stared down the empty hallway. She felt stupid. All her advantages—her knowledge of the future, her secret plans—were worthless if Marissa knew them too.

"She knows everything," Ashlyn whispered.