Winnie and Gladys were miracle workers.
  Liberty stood in her bedroom, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She ran her hand over the black corset hugging her frame and felt a sense of pride.  
   When Erica first cinched her into one of these contraptions, she had argued heavily. While wearing a corset didn't offend her feminist senses, being expected to wear one did make her feel that her aunts, who had burned their bras, would disown her if she complied. However, she had to give the little maid credit for patience. The girl had taken her time to explain that women wore corsets because they were the most effective structured undergarments available. She even covered why people might abuse them and how they were constructed. Then she demonstrated how they were fairly comfortable when worn properly. 
   After seeing that most corsets were constructed of multiple layers of fairly thick fabric, held into a stiff shape by wide, thin strips of metal or bone, it had instantly made her think of modern flak vests. It covered all the vital organs better than the modern design and was even lighter. If she could tweak the materials to be able to deflect bladed weapons as well as projectiles, it would give them an unparalleled advantage. While firearms existed in this period, they were nowhere near affordable or effective enough to replace bladed weapons.
 Any soldier knew a few moments could change the whole battle. If a fighter could turn aside a dagger strike or the slash of a sword, that could give them the crucial few seconds to strike back or flee. Being able to deflect a musket ball would only be a bonus.
   A quick word with Melisande had led to recruiting Gladys. Then they sat down to consult with Winnie. Both ladies were already familiar with the concept of changing fabric properties by infusing them with chemicals. That was the essence of dying and waterproofing after all. Liberty had just pushed that concept further. After discussing how force could be dispersed with density, like shooting into layers of clay or water, and how the thinnest sheet of metal could turn aside a blade, they had gotten to work. The project had even caught Amanda's interest, and she had supplied a crucial advancement. 
   Up until then, the metal found in corsetry had been thin, rigid strips, which could be painful and unrelenting if not fitted correctly or if the metal broke free from its cloth housing. Amanda had looked at it and gotten to work. A day later, she had brought them what looked like a thin spring, flattened. She had explained that her master had taught her how to make chain mail when she was young to try and keep the old arts alive despite it no longer being used, and their discussions had made her think of it. The new 'boning' that she had made was rigid enough to serve, but flexible enough to be more comfortable to wear. It also made it almost impervious to bladed weapons. 
   They had immediately begun having Gladys sell these newly improved corsets at her boutique. They shot to popularity like a rocket. Which had brought a tidy profit along with a higher-end, exclusive clientèle. Melisande had capitalized on that right away, slipping a few members of the Company in as staff at the boutique. Ladies did love to gossip over a cup of tea while they shopped. 
    Some more experimentation in the forge, aided by Winnie, and Amanda had been able to develop a new alloy that reminded Liberty of aluminum but had the strength of steel. After some testing, they found that keeping the flexibility of chain mail allowed the force of blows to be dispersed better than if it were in a solid sheet. The new alloy kept the weight down and allowed them to make the rings as thin as possible. 
   Winnie and Gladys' efforts had paid off as well, and they were able to develop a treatment for fabrics that made the threads exponentially stronger while maintaining it's flexibility. A thin sheet of fabric produced by them could withstand the slicing of a sharp blade, though a direct puncture was still a problem. It had been Gwen who had given them the final breakthrough, suggesting layering the two techniques.
   Now, a layer of Amanda's 'chain mail' was at the core of the garment, with two layers of the specially treated fabric on both the inside and outside for comfort. It was just about the same thickness and weight as one of the old corsets, while being a hundred times more protective. It could now repel a full strike from a bladed weapon and a point-blank pistol shot.
   She smirked at her reflection in the mirror. It looked good, too. They had even been able to use some beautiful brocades for the outer layer that made them fashionable as well. Liberty felt it was a shame to cover it up with a gown and was seriously thinking of finding a way to make wearing corsets as outerwear in this world a thing. 
   Gwen had also recruited them to work the new protective wear into the uniforms of the Screaming Eagles, contributing greatly to their reputation for taking few, if any, casualties during battle. This had made the mercenary company one of the most sought-after posts for skilled fighters, and the members were incredibly loyal. Guards were usually treated as disposable tools by their employers, and mercenaries even more so. The Screaming Eagles not only gave them smart looking uniforms that they could take pride wearing, but they also at the same time provided them with armor that would save their lives. This was worth learning to work with the swordsmen who were *ahem* unconventional. 
   Liberty had left the mercenary company completely in Gwen's control, and the swordswoman hadn't disappointed her. Skill was the first requirement to join. The second was the ability to work well in a team. All members were treated equally, and disrespect for members was grounds for immediate dismissal, even for officers. Though it could be said that the Screaming Eagles paid even better than most noble guard troops, and provided housing not only for the members, but their families as well. Those with skill were promoted swiftly, regardless of social standing, and all were encouraged to train together and learn from each other, raising the skill levels of all. Even the Imperial Guards couldn't boast better benefits for their members. This caused a fierce loyalty in the members. 
   That’s why there had been almost no pushback when they had integrated women and common-born fighters into the ranks. When people felt valued and respected themselves, on the whole, they didn't feel the need to fight for status or privilege. The mercenary company became operational proof that their ideas could work. 
   Liberty took a last look, turning to the side and smoothing her hand down the fabric before nodding to Erica to get her gown. 
   The maids had insisted that they start preparing her for the ball at nearly the crack of dawn, and she had suffered the primping and fussing until Erica had shooed the others out so she could really prepare. The maid had helped her into the corset and a specially designed pair of trousers. 
   Where most ladies would have delicate silk and lace pantalettes, she now wore a sturdy pair of specially designed pants made from the new fabric. They were lined with multiple pockets that fitted her legs like a second skin and ended at her calves, tapering off to reveal her silk stocking-clad legs. The overall look would have made it easy to mistake her for a modern punk rocker with her purple hair. She raised her hands in devil's horns, revealing a small symbol inked into the skin of her inner wrist, and stuck her tongue out at her reflection in the mirror. 
    "My lady, are you sure you want to wear this?" Ignoring her mistress's strange behavior as usual, the little maid shook out the dark fabric of the gown that Gladys had delivered yesterday and laid it across the bed. "You have so many beautiful gowns. Wouldn't one of the more eye-catching designs be more appropriate?" She looked hopefully at Liberty.
   "Of course not! I had it designed specially for tonight." She chuckled and patted the girl on the shoulder. "Trust me, tonight it’s best if I don't catch anyone's eye. I'm not going to this event to have fun. Now stop worrying and help me finish getting ready."  
   She crossed the room and opened the wardrobe that she had specially crafted. Opening the doors, she pulled a lever on the interior. The bar holding the rack of gowns swung out, the back panel sliding to the side, revealing a row of drawers. Opening the second from the top revealed two rows of paired hinged metal wrist cuffs. She chose a set of wide silver cuffs engraved with a sun and moon motif and handed them to Erica. Then she opened another drawer and pulled out a gun belt, made from blackened leather, and expertly strapped it on, making sure to secure the straps around her thighs so that the holsters wouldn't shift while she was navigating the ballroom. She then opened a few other drawers and dropped various other items she might need into the pockets. Finally, she opened the bottom drawer and took out an inlaid box.
   She ran an almost reverent hand across it before lifting the lid and removing the two pistols inside. She held them for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths, feeling the familiar weight and thinking of home. They didn't feel the same in her hand as the modern weapons she was used to, but they were close enough. For a moment, she could almost believe that when she opened her eyes, she would be at the range with her cousins, getting ready for one of their silly shooting contests. 
  Her throat burned for a moment, then she opened her eyes, letting her gaze slide over the guns. They were specially designed for her by Winnie. Rosewood inlaid with silver and brass scrolling, they were beautiful for prototypes. The pistols were works of art before taking into account the advancements she had helped design.
    In an era that was still using ball and powder, introducing jacketed bullets was revolutionary. This would have normally gone hand in hand with simple action rifles and shotguns, eventually evolving into revolvers, but she hadn't had the patience to wait for the world to catch up. Instead, she handed Winnifred a drawing of a semi-automatic pistol. Growing up in her family, and with her time in the armed forces, she could strip and field dress a pistol blindfolded. She took that knowledge and sketched out how the mechanisms worked from memory. Winnie had taken the sketch and practically sprinted to her workshop with a gleam in her eye.
   Just last week, the woman had come back to her and presented these beauties. One look, and she had hugged her in excitement. Even though Liberty had the highest regard for Winnifred's skills, she had still been shocked at how elegant they were. If she ever did make it home, she hoped she could take these with her. 
   They set up a shooting range at headquarters, and she had spent hours helping to fine tune them. Even after all that, she still felt that she had never had a pair of weapons so well made. Thanks to Winnie’s expertise with tiny mechanisms, the action was smooth, recoil minimal, and the magazines slid in and out like a dream. With a swift, smooth motion, she extended her hand, eyed down the brass sight, and then twirled them in sync and slid them into the holsters. 
    After a quick pat on the leather to ensure they were secure, she turned back to the wardrobe. She double checked she had everything she needed, then had the maid help her step into the gown and lace up the back. Instead of having separate layers of petticoats that were amassed under the gown, this one had the petticoats built in and stitched to each other. This kept the concealed slits in the sides lined up so she could access the items she carried underneath without having to dig through layers of fabric. She made sure that she could draw her weapons through the fabric and that the gown still lay flat and smooth, not giving away what she wore underneath, then sat at the dressing table.
   "Time for the finishing touches." She grinned and waved the girl over. She knew that Erica loved to dress her up and indulged her where she could. 
   The maid had objected to plans for the evening. This was an Imperial Ball after all. Being caught there would be certain death. And she was right. This was a giant risk. One that, objectively, they didn't need to take. 
   Viscount Torrington was a toad. As a young nobleman, he had grown bored with the vices sanctioned by society. He had indulged in every new and novel sensation he could find. Moving from the safe waters of gaming houses and brothels, he had sunk into true depravity and fell in with true villains.  He now oversaw the distribution of illicit drugs to the wealthy and bored in the capital using his connections and family standing. Sitting in the lap of high society and spreading his slime to any that ventured near. In the original story, he had lured Melisande into his clutches and drugged her into addiction, forcing her to help him. Then he had killed her. At the Imperial Ball.
   This was the event that had sparked the beginning of the original story. 
    She had found those she felt the story had persecuted. Plot devices the author had expended for the benefit of the main couple. An incompetent, uncaring prince and a young woman who was tossed around by expectations like flotsam. The plot of that horrible novel hung around her neck like a noose, just waiting to tighten. A dark, inky presence that shadowed over what she was hoping to build. 
   Could she step back and let things play out, hoping for the best? She could. But then what would happen to the friends she had made? What about the family that had accepted her, strange behavior and all? Would they be safe? Those were the risks she wasn't willing to take. As far as she knew, she had already died once, on the street under the flashing explosion of fireworks. If it were just her death, that was a risk she felt was more than worth it. 
   Liberty locked eyes with the maid as the girl pulled out a tray of hair ornaments and chose a set of silver hair sticks. One had a sapphire moon with strings of diamond stars dangling from it, and the other had a yellow diamond sun with strings of rainbow gems. She checked the silver tips for sharpness, then slid them into the curls piled on Liberty's head. Next, a matching necklace, with a crescent moon inlaid into a sun surrounded by diamond stars set in silver, was clasped around her neck. Her gaze dropped to her wrists, and she ran a finger over the mark there, finally smiling again. She turned to the maid, held out her arms, and Erica clasped the silver cuffs on her wrists, covering the small image. 
   After a last look in the mirror, she rose, gathered her skirts, and headed towards the door.
  "Time to go declare our independence, Erica. We have a ball to attend."