The servants scurried out of her way as she walked, staring at the Steward with fear. A score of servants ran out towards the city lord, who had begun yelling orders, likely ordering people to go places and make arrangements. Althea ignored them, walking towards the stairs. Mira joined her, bowing her head as she whispered.

"Do you know where your room is, your grace?"

"I was hoping you knew." Althea whispered back.

"The Countess' quarters take up most of the third floor." Steward Ven whispered as they reached the stairs.

Althea let out a sigh of relief as Mira ran off.

"Have you been here before?" she asked.

"Yes, I accompanied the Empress here when she took advantage of your mother's kindness." the Steward Ven replied. Wait a second. The Empress take advantage? Was that something the traditional, etiquette driven Steward just said?

"The Empress' actions are something of an inside joke among us." the Steward said. "The Countess was perhaps the only noble that supported their love before the Empress became what she was."

"What do you mean?" Althea asked, trying to remember things about the Empress.

"Perhaps another time, Countess." the Steward said as he climbed the stairs quickly. Althea hurried to catch up, glad that the stairs were empty. But by the time they reached the third floor, she was wheezing and out of breath.

The Steward looked back, waiting for her to regain her composure before pressing through. Althea followed, still a bit shallow of breath, but not enough to break her practiced posture. The third floor was eerily quiet, and it was not hard to see why.

A woman sat on the bench that was in front of the stairs, reminding her of a receptionist. But this woman did not look like a receptionist at all. After all, she was the Marchioness of Bern.

The Steward slammed his staff, layers of wind forming in front of them. The Marchioness did not react, still hanging on the desk in a way that was foreign to Althea. In her mind, the Marchioness was a regal, reserved and kind noblewoman tired of her husband's antics. Not this.

"Is this truly necessary?" the Marchioness asked, her voice light, as if the air shield was inconsequential.

"And what do you expect me to do? Leave my charge alone with the First Assassin?" the Steward asked. Althea gasped. The Marchioness was an assassin? And not just any assassin, the first assassin.

The title was an official one, given by the Emperor to the most powerful assassin under him. The assassin was charged with assassinating foreign Generals and dignitaries, and sometimes even nobles. The receiver of the title was, of course, kept secret.

"I am not here to assassinate Althea." the Marchioness scoffed. "I still value my life."

The Steward did not react, just holding the shields between Althea and the Marchioness. The Marchioness rolled her eyes.

"I am here to discuss the food the Bern march requires."

"As the Countess has said before, the Marquis can send an envoy to the county." Steward Ven said.

"I am that envoy, Steward Ven." the Marchioness replied, irritation seeping into her tone. "Do not presume to command me, Steward. I have given my life to the Empire, and I do not take your treatment lightly."

"And I am a protector of the Empire. Do not presume that I would hold my hand if you cross even one of these shields." Steward Ven said, his voice firm.

The atmosphere immediately turned sour as the two powerful mages stared at each other. Althea was sure they had history between them, there was just too much hostility.

"How about we just take a step back." she said. "Marchioness, are you here to kill me?"

"No." the Marchioness replied lazily.

"Steward Ven, can you please drop the shields? I do not think the Marchioness will attack me."

The Steward stared at the Marchioness, the shields dropping from Althea's perception. But he remained alert, staring at the Marchioness as if daring her to make a move.

"Erik and I have assessed the situation, and we both agree that the Bern march cannot survive on its own. The land we have available for agriculture is too little, and freeing up more would not be worth it. What we need is for the Diery county to continue giving us food every year." the Marchioness said.

"And what do you offer in return?" Althea asked.

"The march can offer gold."

"Marchioness, your husband has been in charge of the march for five years. Tell me, do I need gold?" Althea replied, a small smile appearing on her lips. Oh, she had enjoyed reading about negotiations like this and practicing them with Karen. Now she got to do them in real life.

"No." the Marchioness conceded. "The county is richer than some duchies of the Empire. What do you want?"

"What can you give me?" Althea asked.

"The Diery county has been giving the tribute without worry for centuries. I doubt the amount of food matters to you." the Marchioness replied.

"Yes, but it matters to you, Marchioness,"Althea replied. "So, what are you willing to give?"

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A frown appeared on the Marchioness' face, "The march will not give any of our cultivation methods or any other foundations. The Countess would really be better off just taking gold. A little more wealth would not hurt.”

“And need I remind you, you offered a cheaper price to us just a few hours ago." The Marchioness finished.

"I remember that, Marchioness. But I was speaking of one deal, not something the county would have to give every year." Althea said. "Steward Ven, what do you think?"

Althea was at a bit of a loss. The truth was that she did not know what would help her.

"The Bern march's cultivation method has a one in ten rate of success." the Steward said. "I remember that you have hundreds of trained recruits that do barely anything because they are not compatible with your method. How about you send some over?"

Wait, did they really need a bigger army? A few hundred was small as far as armies went, but still. A bigger army would have bigger costs. And she still needed to figure out how to make them more powerful.

"So you wish to use us to train and equip your soldiers." the Marchioness stated. " I can live with that. The Marchioness can have half of our failed recruits. Do with them what you will. As a sign of respect, they will have three years of their wages paid. The deal will last for a decade, after which we will reassess. A good day to you, Countess."

The Marchioness disappeared from view as if she had not been there at all. Steward Ven finally relaxed, turning to her.

"The Bern march has one of the best training regimens in the Empire. The county cannot match it even if we pour millions of gold into it. To the march, they are just off loading an extra cost and gaining food in return. " The Steward explained.

Althea was impressed. The Diery county was technically on the losing side of the deal, but she was sure that the food cost far less than training the troops.

Ten years later, they would have an experienced army and could figure things out.

The maids entered back into the room, led by Mira rushing to put her clothes in the cupboard.

"There is no need to unpack, please just keep the clothes in the carriage. Mira can choose something appropriate." she said.

"As you wish, your grace." one of the maids said as they rushed back to where they came from.

"The maids would have already unpacked, you know." Steward Ven commented.

"Well, they wouldn't have to set up the cupboard now." she replied.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps they have a system in place that makes it easier." the Steward said as Althea simply walked into her bedroom. Finding it was easy, it was probably the room marked 'bedroom'. Althea loved things like that. So thoughtful. Now she wouldn’t have to wander around looking for it.

"So we will have a bigger army in a few days once the Marchioness comes through. What do you want us to do with them?" she asked Steward Ven who had presumably followed her.

"Can I get them to massage my leaves? The poor things are tired of searching for sunlight in a closed carriage." her familiar's voice said, shocking the maid carrying him.

Althea turned around, finding the Steward staring at the white plant with his usual neutral expression.

"I will see if I can get someone to carry you tomorrow." she said. The plant seemed to glow for a second, but the Steward cut him off.

"I would not suggest that. A familiar is very rare and valuable, risking it like this would be foolish." The Steward interjected.

"Is that why you don't have a familiar, old man?" her familiar said. Althea was a bit shocked at its daring.

"I have not been lucky enough to bond with one." the Steward replied, his tone stiff. "And I am merely forty-three. I am still in the first quarter of my life."

Althea raised her eyebrows in surprise. That meant that the Steward was a genius. A very powerful genius. A Master could live up to 200 years, and an Adept up to 400. A mage was usually over 150 before they even got a chance at Adept stage.

"Why is your hair gray then?" her familiar replied, still not backing down.

"That is none of your business, plant." The Steward replied, and for the first time, Althea saw him lose control of his emotions.

"How-" but Steward Ven did not let her plant complete his words.

"If you dare say one more word, I will forget that you are a precious familiar." the Steward warned. "The Countess could do better anyway."

"Steward Ven, could you please give me some privacy? I would like to change and retire." Althea interjected, putting on a fake smile on her face. The Steward looked at her and then marched out. The terrified maid practically ran to the side table, put down the familiar, and then ran out. A few seconds later, she came back in, holding what looked like nightclothes.

"Please just leave them on the table, '' Althea said, pointing to the table between the sofas. The room was quite big, not that it was surprising. After all, it belonged to a Countess. Althea sat down on the bed, turning towards her familiar as the maid left, closing the door behind her.

"Are you all right?" she asked him.

The plant did not reply. Althea knew that it was upset. Ignoring it had been a mistake, the plant was practically Althea's best friend. A familiar bond was rare, even among nobles that looked for it. The bond brought a lot of gifts with it, but those gifts varied with the familiar.

A Silverbirch tree wasn't very suited to be a familiar. In fact, it shouldn't be a familiar at all, there just wasn't enough magic in the trees.

The old Althea hadn't seen a single gift in the three years she had bonded with the tree, causing people to presume that her familiar was useless. In a way he was. But it was also true that the old Althea would have lost her mind without him.

Althea would not abandon him, it was what she owed her previous self. A weight seemed to lift off her chest, but she ignored it in favor of the little plant in front of her.

"Come on, you know I was busy." she said.

"Yes, too busy getting a horse, a new title and a cool army. Not to mention more magic." the plant said. "I can smell it on you, you know."

The plant was also five. How old that made him in human years she did not know, but it had the capacity to be hilarious.

"Pulsie, come on." she said, not really sure what would convince her familiar.

"How about we talk about mana. Aren't you interested in it?" Althea asked. The plant was obsessed with, asking maids to read him books on it whenever Althea wasn't around.

"I controlled it today. Do you want to know how it went?" she tempted.

The little guy fell for it.

"Ok. But I am still not talking to you." he said.

"Ok, sure." she said, smiling.

Althea described her experience, from the breeze to how the wind took it away. And then to how she had used a wisp to circumvent it.

The plant nodded along, its leaves shivering in excitement as it listened.

"So you had a basic encounter with mana." the plant said.

"The breeze is likely your primary perception, making wind type and motion centric spells easier for you. A pity since you have plant as your element, but we'll manage."

Althea half understood, half ignored that.

"The wisp was clever, and shouldn't be so easy for you." the plant's leaves turned towards her as if it was inspecting her.

"Has something happened that I don't know about?" he asked. "I know you, you know. And you aren't powerful enough to do that stuff. I still remember helping you sense mana. Come on, spit out."

Oh, fuck. Althea suddenly remembered something very important that she had forgotten in her pity party for the old Althea. The plant was the one person close enough to her to notice the difference in personalities. Well fuck, fuck, fuck. What was she supposed to do now?