Queens Hand One- Five- Three -18

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Knives. Knives in her eyes. Knives in her soul. Overwriting the temporary identity was killing a part of her soul. There were mental skills that could temporarily alter your personality, make you believe you were the role you were adopting. None of those managed to sniff the hiring process at this so-called House White.

What was required was cramming your whole soul and identity into a box, then overwriting what was there with a new, pre-set spiritual energy composite. At least that is what had been explained to her. Not everyone survived the process, but this was the third time she'd come out of such a state. It was never pleasant and required the abandonment of the entirety of the experiences the cover had participated in.

"One Five Three. One Five Three. One Five Three." She whispered her designation to help settle back into her body and soul container. "I am me."

The woman opened her eyes to pitch blackness. Sensations came next. Constricted on all sides. [Unholy Strength] She shoved against the wood. It strained, compressing enough to leave handprints she could feel on the surface, but it did not bend or break.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Mindy, was it? I suppose you wouldn't know."

That voice. Calm. To the point. Bored almost. They had recordings of all the key players. Dossiers to memorize. Histories to go over for when she woke up.

[Sweet Lies] "Bates, you have to help me! I'm trapped. I don't know what's going on."

The head butler was said to have a soft heart, making hires at Coodly house that no other aristocrat would make and then giving people multiple chances when they made mistakes. Burn it all down, he hired that Necromancer. Even considering Lady Coodly's prophetic dalliances, this man vetoed many of the woman's so-called "next great savior" potential hires. The years of records set a good profile for how to manipulate the man, even with a history that only started when he emigrated to Hazeldown thirty years ago. "

Help?" She squeezed out with extra quivering

"You disappeared while clearing out one of our properties. Countess Maye ensured we got many properties in some of the more dangerous locations. The rat pack has claimed credit. Anything to lend credibility to how they claim to be a dangerous and powerful influence in the city. I'd ask you questions, but that has never ended well for a Hand."

"Hand! I don't know what you're talking about?" One Five Three, insisted, letting real desperation and fear leak into her fake one.

"It's okay. I have plenty of time to listen. If you want, you can tell me your designation. That, at least, doesn't trigger your self-destruction implants."

They could hear each other. There must be a way out! The hand of the queen worked harder on escaping the container she was in. It was futile.

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