After dinner, Mercy was dismissed. No doubt so her parents could discuss a potential marriage between the two families. That was the downfall to being born into an aristocratic family; marriage pacts. After a while, Mercy decided to stop caring. She knew that she would make an awful wife anyways. She was, for the most part, unladylike and had, at times, awful manners. It was her way of rebelling against her parents and their hypocritical ways. The only upside to being born into an aristocratic family, was of course the money. The money was Mercy's favorite thing, because Mercy, like any other aristocratic girl, loved shopping.
"Would you like help undressing, Baroness?" A robotic servant asked.
Mercy smiled, then waved her away. "No thank you. You may go and help the others clean up."
The robotic servant left, shutting the door behind her. Finally Mercy was alone. She loved being alone, it gave her time to think. She shrugged off the evening gown, and put on a pair of breeches and a silken shirt. Most wealthy people would never wear such common clothing, but she was getting ready for bed, so she felt as if it didn't matter. It was pointless in her opinion, that people should get all dressed up simply for bed.
Finally, to complete her bedtime ritual, Mercy knelt down and put her ears close to the floorboard. She enjoyed listening in on her parents conversation. Not because she wanted to be a bad daughter, but because it was always fun to listen on how they hated the rest of the aristocratic families in Everton. But this time, what she heard was different.
"Listen Humphrey, I know it isn't the most ideal thing, but it must be done."
"James, I want to back you completely, but I just don't know if I can get the rest of the aristocracy to back you. We are talking about treason. We are talking about undoing everything the King had done for us and New Arcadia."
"I understand, but if what I have is true," Her father paused, "listen Humphrey, meet me again on Tuesday. We'll meet in the secret location that we have discussed."
Mercy lifted her head up. What was going on? What was her father planning? She had to figure it out. This dinner simply wasn't a marriage pact as they normally were. Something was being plotted, and it didn't sound good. Mercy composed herself once more, and walked over to her desk, trying to be as quiet as possible. The only thing that Chateau de Kinelly was notorious for was it's creaky floorboards.
Just as Mercy sat down at her desk, her door opened. Standing there was her mother. "Mercy, we must talk."
"What is it mother? Does something concern you?" Mercy asked.
Madame de Kinelly walked swiftly over to her daughter, her cane hitting the ground with every step. Finally, she stopped in front of her daughter. "You needn't worry about anything, not yet."
Mercy looked at her mother, raising one eyebrow at her. "What are you talking about?"
Madame de Kinelly simply smiled at her daughter and placed one hand on her cheek, using the other hand to stroke her daughter's hair. "You are my sweet and precious daughter. I love you, and I want you to have this."
Her mother left a flintlock pistol on her desk. "I had it modified, I think you'll find it handy, eventually." Her mother then left her room.
Mercy observed the pistol. It had clearly been used in the old days, the days before the Rebellion. But this pistol was different, clearly modified as her mother had stated. Mercy slowly felt the gun, trying to figure out all it's functions. There was a small, copper colored button on the side, she pressed it. A part of the gun opened and a copper scope rose. Mercy stared at it, deciding what she needed to do with it.
"I will use this when the time comes?" She asked herself before opening a drawer and sitting the gun in it. "Thank you mother."