Scritch, scritch!

Leaning low over the table, Lady Kyla Hollin examined the sword blade laid out before her. The perfectly straight line of steel caught the light, glittering with a beauty more captivating than any jewel. As she traced the edge, which grew ever lighter and sharper toward its point, she found herself wondering whose blood this particular blade was destined to drink. Just then, a commotion from outside the workshop broke her concentration. She frowned, turning her head with a flicker of annoyance.

Knock, knock.

“M-my lady.”

“What is all the noise about?”

“A guest has arrived from the Imperial Palace.”

Again? Kyla thought with a weary sigh. The palace officials, their own feet held to the fire, had been wearing grooves into the path between the palace and the estate. They had tried to persuade her father with an endless stream of meaningless platitudes, then had turned to her, pleading and begging for her to intervene. Did they mistake her smiles for weakness? They had used her as a conduit, attempting to make proposals to her that they did not dare make to the Duke himself.

She was thoroughly sick of them. She turned back to the sword, intending to dismiss this latest visitor.

“No matter. Tell them I am occupied today.”

“Um, but my lady… it is Minister Ian Hielo of the Ministry of Magic. And His Grace the Duke is currently out…”

Kyla froze. Without another word, she threw the door open.

“Lead the way. Is he in the drawing-room?”

“Y-yes, my lady. But… it seems he came knowing that the Duke was not in residence.”

“Of course he did,” Kyla murmured, more to herself than to the servant. “How could a man who has made such a precious trip all the way here not know that the master of the house was away?”

She smoothed her hair as she strode down the corridor, her maids scrambling to follow, gracefully managing the train of her dress. The way she fastened her rings and adjusted her necklace was not unlike a warrior arming for battle. In front of the half-open doors to the drawing-room, Kyla paused, checking her reflection one last time in the polished surface of a nearby vase. Then, she affixed a brilliant smile to her face.

Knock, knock.

“Hello, Minister of Magic.”

“Good day, Lady Kyla.”

Ian Hielo was seated on the sofa, dressed in the formal uniform of his Ministry, waiting for her. The teacup before him was untouched. Kyla glanced at the full cup of cooled tea before giving him a slight, formal nod.

“What a shame,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “It seems you came to see my father, but he is currently out.”

“The butler informed me. I fear I have come at an inopportune time, but the matter at hand is of some urgency, and I wished to deliver the message myself. Lady Kyla, are none of your siblings present?”

“No. You may speak with me. I will keep your words safe and relay them to my father exactly as you say.”

Kyla gestured to a servant to pour fresh tea. Whatever his intentions, it was a breach of etiquette to not touch what was offered. She needed to know if it was a simple oversight, or a deliberate message.

Trickle.

“So, Minister, what brings you here?”

“It is nothing of great importance. I simply heard that House Hollin has been entertaining a great many visitors lately.”

“And isn’t that thanks to the Ministry of Magic?” Kyla replied, her smile never wavering, though her words were laced with thorns. “We truly had no idea that our name would be invoked in a matter of outstanding debts between palace departments.” It was a clear rebuke: This was a matter for you to resolve amongst yourselves. Why did you drag us, an uninvolved party, into your mess?

But Ian merely smiled back. “Indeed. I was surprised as well. I had been under the impression that House Hollin and the Imperial Palace were unrelated, but it seems your influence is so vast that your name naturally came to the fore.” Who was it, again, that colluded with palace officials to expand their business? You were the ones who extended your reach in the first place. If you wish to cast blame, I suggest you direct it at your past selves.

Ha. Kyla felt the corners of her own smile begin to tighten. She rarely lost her composure, not in any setting, but there was something about Ian Hielo’s tone, his precise and cutting choice of words, that was uniquely grating.

“And so?” she prompted, her voice sharp.

“You made a counter-proposal. I have brought the answer to that proposal myself. First…”

At a gesture from Ian, Romandro, who had been seated quietly beside him, presented a sheaf of documents. It was a contract for the sale of the land and the production base, fully prepared and requiring only the seal of House Hollin to be finalized.

“What is this?”

“Is this the first time you have seen a contract, my lady? Ah, but if this is a problem for you, it is quite alright. I can simply wait until the Duke returns.” Even if she was the true power in her family, all official business was fronted by the Duke. It was a subtle taunt: Back down if you cannot handle this. Kyla’s jaw tightened.

“I have eyes, Minister. I know it is a contract. My question is why you have presented it. It seems that having been away from Bariel for so long, you do not understand the current situation.”

Hoo! Romandro, standing silently behind them, felt his eyes widen. Ian was one thing, but the lady’s sharpness was truly something to behold.

“Is this your answer to our counter-proposal?” Kyla lifted the thick contract with two fingers and dropped it back onto the table, as if to say, What am I supposed to do with this?

Ignoring her gesture, Ian simply smiled, uncapped a pen with a soft click, and slid it across the table toward her, knowing full well she did not possess the authority to sign.

“You proposed the dismissal of Lord Macro and Lord Chiles,” he began.

“Yes, I did.”

“And are you aware that this is an act of overstepping your authority?”

“Overstepping? How amusing. I did not issue an order; I stated a condition for a contract. Have those two officials been dismissed? I have taken no authority, so I fail to see how you can call it overstepping.”

“The very act of attempting to have the chosen men of the late Emperor and the current Crown Prince removed for personal reasons is the problem itself. For a lady of a ducal house not to comprehend that… a great deal of time has indeed passed.” Ian tapped the corner of the contract. “However, His Highness the Crown Prince is a generous man. Taking into account the Ministry’s budget and the special circumstances of the war, he has offered a compromise. From this day forward, all officials of the Imperial Palace will be scored under His Highness’s new evaluation system. Do you understand what this means?” It was a clear message: If House Hollin wishes to check the power of House Davion, you should be bowing your heads and standing by Jin’s side, not baring your fangs. As long as the Crown Prince holds the Davions’ leash, he can loosen or tighten it as it suits the empire’s interests.

Kyla’s mouth fell slightly open. “An evaluation system? Within the Imperial Palace?”

“Yes. It will be officially announced soon. I am informing you of this before it happens so that House Hollin might seize the opportunity it presents.”

“But, how is that—”

As Kyla stammered, Ian added with a helpful air, “While dismissals and appointments have always been made around the New Year’s festival, there has been a distinct lack of an objective system to evaluate an official’s performance. This new initiative will ensure that all officials at the level of department head and above are subject to a new system, under the direct standard of His Majesty the Emperor.”

“…How?” Why would the Davions agree to place a leash around their own necks? No, before that, how did the Crown Prince even accomplish this? But as she asked, Ian simply smiled as if to say, And what good would knowing do you?

“In any case,” Ian continued, “the authority to decide the fates of the two officials you named now rests not with me, but with His Highness the Crown Prince. While it is not a direct dismissal, I have shown you a path by which that outcome can be reached. Does this not satisfy your condition?”

Beneath the rich fabric of her dress, Kyla’s fists clenched. She had to find out if this was true. It defied all logic. The idea that men who were feasting so well would voluntarily place themselves in the Imperial Family’s grasp was deeply suspicious.

“Will the officials stand for it?”

“My lady, do you know which is the only position that is appointed at the New Year’s festival without the deliberation of the Imperial Family?”

“…No.”

“The Minister of Magic. This very seat.” It was tradition. If the Minister of Magic himself was leading the way into this new system, what justification could the other officials possibly have to resist it? Ian gave a short, sharp shake of his head, as if the matter was no longer up for debate. “And soon, a formal complaint will arrive at the Hollin residence.”

“A formal complaint?”

“From the Davion side. The charge, I believe, is violation of Imperial Law. It will inevitably have to be settled in a court of law. Will you be prepared for that?”

The Judiciary was known for its impartiality, but it was, in the end, a department of the Imperial Palace. And in this particular case, with public outrage so clear and the evidence of House Hollin’s guilt so readily available, the outcome was all but certain.

Kyla’s expression turned to ice, and Ian met her glare with a placid, almost gentle tone. “The outcome will, of course, be decided in accordance with Imperial Law, but in the worst-case scenario, a portion of the Hollin family’s lands could be confiscated. If that were to happen, you would not receive a single coin.”

“…I do not understand your motive.” Kyla knew full well that under Imperial Law, the beneficiary of any confiscated land was the Imperial Palace. This was a development the Ministry should welcome with open arms. She couldn’t understand why he was giving her this warning, why he was acting as if he were trying to help her.

“Before that happens, I suggest you hand over the land to the Ministry at the original purchase price. That way, you can at least recover your initial investment.”

Only then did Kyla notice that the contract did not specify a price for the production base itself. The value of the land, he was implying, now included the value of the facilities upon it.

“The blacksmiths are on their way from Mount Raza. The war is imminent. This is an opportunity I am offering you, based on my judgment that it is best we begin our work as quickly as possible.” If he waited, he would get everything for free, but no one could predict how long the trial might take. His message was clear: Cooperate now, or be ruined later. “If you agree to hand over the land on this condition, I will do my best to ensure the trial proceeds… smoothly.”

“…Did you not spin the same tale for the Davion side?” Kyla shot back. “That you would help them with their trial? In order to cut us down, I imagine the Davions would gladly wear any leash you offered.”

She is sharp. Ian inclined his head slightly, a flicker of genuine surprise in his eyes, but he offered no reply, his gaze returning to his now-cold teacup.

Kyla, too, fell into a tense silence before she finally spoke. “You will guarantee one more thing.”

“And what is that?”

“If House Hollin’s power is diminished, so too is my competitiveness as a candidate for Empress. For me, that is the same as losing everything. You will not touch our rights to the conventional weapons business. You may deal with your monsters and whatever else you wish; we will not interfere.”

“A merchant speaks through the goods they sell,” Ian replied, his voice even. “Soon, the Dera blacksmiths will arrive. Why don’t you bring your family’s finest sword and come to the palace? The blade that survives the competition will become the sword of the empire.”

With that, Ian stood. He was about to turn and leave when he paused, as if struck by a sudden thought. “And my lady, this is merely a question born of curiosity.”

“What is it?”

“Is the Duchess, by any chance, from Burgos?”

“…!” He was asking about their trade dealings during the Burgos civil war, about Kyla’s eyes, her hair. For a fraction of a second, a flash of pure shock crossed Kyla’s face, but she instantly suppressed it, her posture becoming ramrod straight.

“What are you implying?”

“I am saying this out of concern,” Ian said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “Do not, under any circumstances, transfer ownership of your land to an outside party. The moment that happens, I do not care who it is, this mansion will lose its master once again.” Just as House Hayman did before you.

Kyla did not react. Not until Ian had fully departed from the drawing-room.

Clatter.

She stumbled forward, her hand hitting the table, knocking over a teacup and spilling its contents across the polished wood. A dark stain bloomed on the hem of her dress, but she paid it no mind.

He knew. He definitely knew something about her mother.

“…Fucking bastard.”

Chewing on the vulgar curse, Kyla fought to quell the rage that was boiling within her. She stared at the contract lying on the table for a long, silent moment, then shouted for a servant.

“Where is my father!?”

“Ah, he is on his way, my lady, he’s returning with all haste…”

“Prepare his study. He needs to affix his seal the moment he arrives.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Kyla clenched her jaw and muttered, her voice barely a whisper, “And prepare a carrier pigeon. It is to be sent to Burgos.”