Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Chapter 320Memoirs - Helicopter parents

The snow crackled softly as Scarlett’s fire swept across it, steam curling upward in sinuous tendrils where flames met frost. Around her, the estate’s training grounds lay locked in winter’s grasp, yet a wide circle at the centre was stripped bare, the frost seared away to reveal the dark stone beneath. Sparse flakes drifted lazily from the overcast sky, vanishing in bursts of heat as they neared her magic.

Scarlett maintained her focus, weaving strands of flame that flickered and danced in the frigid air. She stretched her pyrokinesis, refining her control — splitting the fire into countless intricate shapes and glowing orbs, each like a sun unto itself. With a flick of her wrist, a cluster of orbs zipped forward, striking a floating snowbank and carving a constellation of tiny craters into its pristine surface. Another sheet of snow gathered and drifted upward, forming a fresh mound. Closing her eyes, Scarlett directed the fire’s trajectory by intuition alone, relying on her senses and the natural flow of mana.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she extended her awareness, attuning herself to the subtle shifts in the snow — the minute cracks and creaks as it settled under its own weight, the faint rustle of small creatures burrowing beneath, and even the delicate whisper of new flakes settling atop the layers. She grasped that sensation, the ocean of snow, and moved it.

When she opened her eyes, the entire blanket of snow covering the training grounds hovered above the ground, still and suspended like a vast, shimmering sheet of white silk. Then, with a simple release of her will, it fell, cascading down in a muted roar of powder and frost.

Throughout that, her fiery constructs remained intact, their warm glow casting shadows across the snow. The shapes pulsed and shifted, undiminished by her divided focus.

She allowed herself a light, distant smile. It was amazing how easy some of this was now, as if her abilities had crossed a threshold into instinct. She probably could have done this before, but with so little effort? [Major Mana Control] definitely made a difference.

Lowering her hand, Scarlett raised the [Eternal Flameweaver’s Athame] in her grasp. The divine artifact’s molten blade glinted as though alive, radiating an almost imperceptible warmth that resonated with her mana. She was testing whether her efficiency was any different compared to in Freymeadow, and the results were undeniable. Despite using both hydrokinesis and pyrokinesis in roughly equal measure, the former had been what drained the majority of her reserves.

She turned the dagger in her grip, feeling its dormant potency stir as her energy flowed through it. The air around the blade was slightly distorted by the heat, though the artifact remained mostly inert. There were still secrets buried within it.

After a while, Scarlett released a slow breath, extinguishing her final flames with a casual gesture. The cold rushed in immediately, biting at her skin.

She let it. For once, she didn’t bother shielding herself with warmth, allowing the snow to settle on her unprotected shoulders. Clad in the same dress she’d returned in earlier during the day, she tilted her head back to watch the dark sky, where faint stars peeked through breaks in the clouds.

Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Arlene. Her fingers tightened, then loosened around the Flameweaver’s hilt as—not for the first time in recent days—a quiet melancholia stirred within her.

She couldn’t help feeling disappointed. From today, no matter how far she advanced, no matter what kind of head-turning leaps of progress she achieved or what magical heights she reached, Arlene wouldn’t see it. She couldn’t casually brag, couldn’t seek guidance. The former might have been a touch self-indulgent and crass, but she doubted Arlene would have minded. If anything, the woman might have found it amusing that Scarlett’s thoughts turned in that direction after she was gone.

Still, lingering on these things wasn’t Scarlett’s way. Even as Arlene’s memory whispered in the corners of her mind, she pushed it aside, refocusing on the present.

The crunch of footsteps on snow broke her reverie.

“Training in the cold?” A familiar voice carried through the night. “Very spartan. One might think you were part of the imperial mage corps.”

Scarlett turned, surprised she hadn’t noticed his approach. Standing a short distance away was Arnaud Astrey, his conspicuous presence softened slightly by the crooked half of a broken chair leg clutched in his right hand. His light brown hair was dusted with snowflakes, and an amused tilt touched his brow as he studied her with an inscrutable expression.

Scarlett’s gaze stayed briefly on the improvised weapon before rising to meet his eyes. “Mister Astrey,” she began, smoothing over her surprise. “That is quite an…unconventional implement to carry around.”

Arnaud held up the chair leg with a gentle chuckle. “This? A gift from my daughter. I was assessing her and Shin’s progress earlier and needed a ‘weapon’, so she insisted I use this. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d expected something slightly more substantial.”

“…I am certain she gave the choice considerable thought,” Scarlett said. She imagined Allyssa knew exactly what she was doing. The stranger thing was how Arnaud still managed to wield the object in a way that made it seem almost…viable.

“Indeed,” Arnaud replied, his tone a tad drier.

“What brings you here, Mister Astrey?”

“I could ask the same of you.” He gestured at the cleared sections around her, where the residual heat continued to melt the fresh snow. “What compels a woman of your stature to train at this hour, in this weather, dressed like that? You seemed lost in thought. Something weighing on you?”

“Is that how I appeared?”

“To these eyes, yes.”

Scarlett considered him for a moment, mulling her response. “…I was reflecting,” she finally said. “On my mentor. On what she might have said, were she to see me now.”

“Ah.” Arnaud’s expression mellowed. “Reminiscing about those we’ve lost. It has a way of creeping up on us, doesn’t it? Especially in moments like these. Wandering thoughts in the cold air.” He motioned vaguely at the falling snow with the chair leg.

Scarlett’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Is there something you need, Mister Astrey?”

He met her gaze squarely, his attention lingering before he spoke with a more solemn demeanour. “I am a father.”

Scarlett arched a brow. “I am aware.”

“Do you know the foremost duty of a father?”

“That likely depends on the father in question,” she replied. “…In my case, it was far from clear.”

Her father—her real one, from her world—had been kind and devoted, prioritising her and her sister above all else before his passing. The previous Lord Hartford, though… He’d clearly had a hard time with the original Scarlett. Maybe he saw too much of the girl’s mother in her.

Which was understandable, she supposed.

Arnaud studied her closely. “For me, it’s simple: to ensure my daughter is happy, safe, and given every chance to become the remarkable woman her mother dreamed she’d be.”

Scarlett regarded him silently. “A respectable goal,” she soon said.

“And do you know the foremost responsibility of a Shielder?”

“To protect and aid those in need.”

“Precisely.” He nodded. “I consider it part of my duty as a father — to help shape a world where Allyssa can grow and thrive as she should.”

“Given your reputation, and your daughter’s accomplishments, I would say you have done admirable work.”

“I like to think so, yes. I could not be prouder of what my daughter has grown into.” Arnaud’s tone was light, but there was no mistaking the quiet pride beneath it. He watched Scarlett for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, without warning, he raised the broken chair leg and pointed it at her. “Care for a light spar, Baroness?”

Scarlett stared at him. She had expected the conversation to shift, but not in this direction. She eyed him, trying to gauge his intent. Finally, though, she inclined her head. “Very well.”

Arnaud stepped back, stopping just shy of the snowless boundary. The chair leg rested easily in his hand — casual, yet somehow threatening. “I am not one for rigid rules. Use whatever means or magic you wish,” he said simply, waiting.

Scarlett assessed him, taking in his stance. She wasn’t a warrior, so she couldn’t say for sure whether he was employing any specialised aura techniques right now. But given who he was, she suspected he wasn’t.

If he wasn’t going to take this entirely seriously, neither would she. With a thought, the [Eternal Flameweaver’s Athame] vanished from her grip, absorbed into the [Charms of Expeditious Change]. Now stripped of most of her gear, save for a few enchanted rings and earrings, she raised a hand.

A single ember sparked to life at her fingertips, flickering in the cold. Arnaud’s eyes followed it, watching as it grew larger and brighter. Then, without turning his head, he leaned slightly to the side, dodging a compacted chunk of snow that hurtled towards his head from behind. The snowball halted just short of Scarlett’s face, melting into a blob of water that began to expand.

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“I observed most of your earlier performance,” Arnaud remarked. “Your control is exceptional, Baroness. Displays like that are precisely why I’ve made it a principle never to underestimate my opponents.”

With that, he took a step forward, swinging the chair leg to deflect the sphere of water as it shot towards him. The liquid splashed harmlessly against the wood, but instead of dispersing around it, it clung together unnaturally — suspended in its form, as though restrained by an unseen force.

Of course, Scarlett didn’t let it end there. Several Aqua Mines materialised around Arnaud, their surfaces shimmering with building energy. Lacking the precision of [Charms of Apperception] to pinpoint weak spots on someone of his level, she opted for volume, attacking from as many angles as possible. The mines erupted in a cluster of steam and boiling water, engulfing Arnaud at their centre.

She didn’t particularly worry for his safety, and with good reason. When the mist cleared, he emerged unscathed, encased in a faint silver sheen — an aura so subtle it could be mistaken for a trick of the light. The explosions hadn’t so much as ruffled his hair as he strode forward, the chair leg now resting on his shoulder.

Scarlett shifted tactics, moving one hand as she conjured a spiralling stream of water from the surrounding snow. With the other, she ignited a wave of flame. The two elements entwined, forming a twisting helix the size of a person, which she sent hurtling towards him. The attack bore down like a serpent of fire and steam, but Arnaud moved with practiced ease. He sidestepped, swinging the chair leg in a sharp arc, and the helix simply…stopped.

Scarlett frowned, not entirely sure what had happened.

The fire extinguished. The water separated and drifted aside. He hadn’t dispelled them outright, though. Her control remained, but something was interfering.

She focused, reaching out with her senses. The fire and water were still there, but locked in place, as if caught in an invisible grip. The fire was being compressed until it snuffed out, while the water was forcibly redirected.

Was he just…encasing her magic in his aura and brute-forcing his way through? It seemed absurdly simple, but…

She wished she had a better understanding of aura mechanics in this world, but it had never been her priority.

“Impressive,” Arnaud said, his tone even, yet carrying a note of genuine respect. “I’ve known arch wizards who would envy your control, Baroness.”

Scarlett’s expression remained stoic as she shifted her stance. Around her, dozens of spinning fire arrows materialised, each aimed at a vital point. They launched in a rapid flurry, streaking towards Arnaud at speeds few could match. The silver shimmer of his aura seemed to deflect most of them, but the man moved with deliberate precision, cutting a cross through the air with the chair leg and knocking aside an impressive number. His movements were fluid, practiced, almost casual, as if his choice of weapon didn’t already make it clear that this was more of a test than a real fight.

That suited Scarlett fine. She wasn’t fighting seriously either.

A ring of flame erupted from the ground, encircling Arnaud in a blazing barrier. At the same time, Scarlett drew more water from their surroundings, shaping an array of thin, gleaming spears that hovered above him. With a snap of her fingers, they plunged through the flames, creating a blinding cloud of steam.

There was a moment of silence, then, with a sudden burst of force, the flames and steam scattered outward, leaving Arnaud standing untouched at the centre. He raised the chair leg in a mock salute.

Scarlett debated pressing the attack again, but the man seemed to have decided it was his turn. Before she could react, Arnaud closed the distance between them in a single, flowing motion. Yet instead of striking, he tapped her shoulder lightly with the chair leg.

She glanced down at it. Had she been fully equipped and anticipating the move, she might have been able to dodge that. But as things stood, the hit would have landed regardless.

The man was nearly as fast as Vail.

Exhaling sharply, she let the tension drain from her body, lowering her hands. Any remaining flames flickered and died out as she stepped back and straightened her posture.

“The Guild’s reports did suggest you could be a surprisingly effective fighter when necessary,” Arnaud said, folding his arms. “That much certainly appears to be true.”

“Was the purpose of this ‘spar’ to confirm as much?” Scarlett asked.

The man shook his head. “No,” he answered, offering no further elaboration.

Scarlett eyed him, trying to decipher his intent, but his expression gave away nothing.

After a beat of silence, he spoke again. “Have you heard the term ‘Designated Entity of Concern’?”

“I cannot say that I have.”

“It’s a classification the Guild uses. It marks individuals who, for one reason or another, have the potential to significantly influence our work — positively or negatively. Some are designated due to the danger they pose. Others, because of the opportunities they represent. Either way, they are kept under a certain degree of observation.”

Scarlett’s lips twitched faintly. “I see. And I presume I fall into this category?”

“You do,” Arnaud confirmed. “The Guild has compiled a rather extensive dossier on you, Baroness. Particularly your actions over the past six months.”

“…Are you meant to be sharing this information with me?” she asked.

“Most assuredly not,” he admitted. “There are those who see you as a potential asset, and for now, the Guild has chosen a wait-and-see approach. My presence here doesn’t strictly align with that.”

“Is that so?”

Scarlett thought back to Kat’s warning about the Guild’s interest in her. It roughly lined up with what he was saying, though Arnaud was undoubtedly closer to the sources that had taken notice.

She considered him for another moment. “And what is your personal stance on the matter?”

“I’ve only recently returned to the empire, so my understanding is based on reports and conversations. Given your accomplishments, I can see why they’ve drawn certain conclusions.”

“However…?”

“However, I am a father,” Arnaud said, his voice carrying a weight it hadn’t before, “I trust my colleagues at the Guild and their reasoning, yet I cannot ignore the fact that my daughter and Shin have been allowed to involve themselves in ventures as dangerous as yours. They’ve only recently ascended to C-ranked Shielders. While I value Allyssa’s independence, no loving father could watch without concern.”

“So you did not come to Freybrook simply to visit her,” Scarlett observed.

Arnaud was silent for a few seconds, regarding her thoughtfully, seeming to weigh his next words. “Allyssa has placed her trust in you. As has Shin. They care for your well-being.”

Scarlett’s voice softened, though only by the tiniest fraction. “And they have also proven themselves deserving of my trust. Their safety is of equal importance to me, as are Fynn’s and Miss Hale’s.”

“Then dismiss them from your service,” Arnaud said bluntly.

Scarlett fell silent. The chill nipped at her shoulders, but she paid it little mind.

“…Are they aware that you are asking this of me?” she finally asked.

“They are not.”

A furrow formed on her brow. “Might I ask why you are?”

Arnaud took a single step forward, and the moment he did, something shifted. An instinctive warning flared in Scarlett’s mind as the [Hartford Garnet Ring] burned hot against her finger. She registered the danger before she could fully process it, instinct already kicking in. The Loci reacted in near-perfect sync, and in less than a blink, the space around her warped.

She reappeared several meters away, her gear—[Crown of Flame’s Benediction] and [Eternal Flameweaver’s Athame] included—manifesting instantly as she squared herself for real combat.

Arnaud stopped in place, watching her with an expression that was more measured than surprised. Slowly, he lowered his arms, the chair leg dropping to his side in a stance devoid of aggression. Whatever sharp, oppressive presence she had sensed moments ago faded entirely, and the heat from the ring cooled.

“You are an enigma, Baroness,” he said after a while.

“You would not be the first to say so,” Scarlett replied, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

Arnaud inclined his head slightly. “Not surprising. Even my daughter shared a similar sentiment about you.” His gaze lingered on her, unreadable. “…I wasn’t eager to act against her wishes if she didn’t want to leave. So before coming here, I made a point to learn more about the woman known as ‘Baroness Scarlett Hartford’. More than what was merely written in the Guild’s files.”

A faint shadow crossed his face. “I spoke with Shielders, knights, mages, nobles, and even priests — yet none of them paint a consistent picture of you.” His voice dropped slightly. “You are a noble accused of manipulation and a number of unsavoury and illicit dealings. A Zuverian scholar whose expertise appears to rival that of the most prestigious mage institutions. A prodigal mage whose nigh-unexplainable talents emerged inexplicably in the past six months. A supposed hero who helped prevent the manifestation of a Vile. A benefactor recognised by the Followers. A philanthropist aiding the destitute. A ‘dragon slayer’. And seemingly much, much more.”

The man had done his research, it seemed. Though Scarlett wondered who exactly he’d spoken with.

“You can see,” Arnaud continued, “why reconciling all of that into a single person can be a challenge. Particularly when most of it has unfolded in such a short period of time.”

“You are not the only one who has found my circumstances unusual,” Scarlett said.

He nodded. “Yet everyone else has chosen to leave you be.”

“I demonstrated that to be the better alternative.”

“And therein lies the problem.” Arnaud’s tone sharpened. “It seems clear to me that you are prepared to persuade, bribe, or coerce others into compliance — as if there’s no limit to those who can fall under your sway. I’ve found records of your suspected dealings with a smuggling group known as the Grey Dog Gang, conveniently forgotten after you aided in their capture. Nobles who have crossed you have mysteriously found themselves in precarious positions. Guild investigators looking into your involvement in the Citadel incident have faced unrelenting obstacles at every turn. And now, even organisations like the Rising Isle seem to defer to you, if my daughter’s account and your own words hold true.”

He held her gaze. “Tell me, Baroness, does that sound like the conduct of someone trustworthy enough to be entrusted with my daughter’s safety?”

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Scarlett’s lips pressed into a thin line. The snow continued falling, alighting on the man’s hair and shoulders,

“…You have made your point, Mister Astrey,” she said at last.

She wasn’t going to waste time playing at virtue or citing her so-called good deeds. There was no point. He wasn’t accusing her of wrongdoing in the traditional sense. What he was questioning was the breadth of influence she wielded, both overt and indirect — influence that defied the norms of her station.

A single baroness should not command this much deference. Not from Shielders. Not from nobles. Not from entities that should, in theory, hold more power than she did.

That wasn’t something that happened naturally. It implied leverage. Blackmail, favours, promises. Tools she had wielded generously to carve out her current place in this world.

The Guild and others like them had likely drawn their own conclusions. Some might assume she had a powerful benefactor. Others knew there was more to her than appearances suggested. She suspected Arnaud was among the latter.

The man observed her firmly, waiting.

“What do you intend about it?” she finally asked. “If you could convince your daughter to leave, you would not be here.”

The faintest crease appeared at the corner of his mouth, but his expression remained calm. “What do you believe I intend to do, Baroness?”

“You will not kill me.”

Despite the menacing threat he’d displayed earlier, she knew this much.

“And what makes you so certain?” he asked.

Scarlett met his gaze evenly. “Because even you could not handle the consequences.” Her voice was steady, almost clinical. “I am a noble with no proven crimes and a growing list of public achievements. You would not escape the repercussions of killing me in my own estate. The Guild cannot shield you from the scandal that would follow. And there is your daughter to consider.”

Also, Arnaud Astrey simply was not that kind of man.

Something shifted in his expression.

“Do you truly believe,” Scarlett pressed, “that your daughter’s safety is compromised by her association with me?”

“I do,” he answered without hesitation.

“Could I convince you otherwise?”

Arnaud shook his head slowly. “No. The danger surrounding you is evident. Whatever your affiliations, your influence, or your deeds, that fact does not change. As a Shielder, I can weigh the uncertainty of your character. But as a father, I cannot ignore the risk to my daughter.”

“Then tell me what you intend to do about it. I have no desire to sour my relationship with the Guild, but you should know they cannot pressure me. And I have no intention of dismissing either your daughter or Mister Thornthon.”

He regarded her for a long, measured moment, and Scarlett thought she glimpsed a flicker of something—calculation? Resolve?—in his eyes.

Finally, he spoke.

“I will have you hire me, Baroness.”

Scarlett blinked. “Pardon?”