Two months ago, prior to Connor's fight
In her room, a True Elf, one of the species that existed the same amount of time as time itself existed, was working the most monotonous job that existed in the United Confederation of Shadehill, which was paperwork. A job dull, boring and tedious, but necessary all the same. Her work was simple yet unappreciated by most, not because of her lack of qualifications for the task, the ridiculous disdain for a work that basically was the legs of the government or even the sexist reason that peered at every citizen of the country. No, it was more personal and out of control.
Fynsell was born without any magical capabilities.
Fynsell is the daughter of a Count from the Elven Country of Edhelraen. She was born without a slight sensitivity to magic, which marked her as unworthy of the dominion she was currently taking care of. Not unworthy just of the dominion, no, but unworthy of honor, respect, comprehension, kindness…
Even going far as saying she wasn't entitled to be alive. A bold claim, but one that none would particularly disagree. The reason was quite simple if someone would think about it. All of the nobles, lords and important merchants had some capacity to use magic, and considering that she was born the oldest daughter of a Count, it was expected to be Runecrafter level of magic at least. However, things were not as simple, nor did the world seem to favor Fynsell.
The United Confederation of Shadehill is a union of nations centered around the idea of industrialization, but with a small twist. It has evolved greatly in terms of mass production and the globalization of its religion, which preaches to the deity known as Molkarov, The God of Knowledge. He was the first and only True Elf to achieve Goodhood, using his knowledge and wisdom to categorize what is known as magic as of today.
Magic is the supernatural energy that lives within certain people fortunate enough to manifest it, although it can be detected in every living being and to some extent, every single person can learn the weakest and simplest form of magic. The energy that allows magic to happen is called “Éter”, energy that can be used for a plethora of different things, be it small interactions with the environment to break entire castles with a flick of one's finger.
Casters, a term to describe the top three Magical Ranks, consisted of Sorcerer, Wizard and Artificer. They aren't classified like this because of “power”, but they are classified by “rarity”. Casters are rare and even just a few or at the very least, a single Caster, depending on the Rank, could greatly change how one Country was perceived by others.
The first, Sorcerers.
They have the highest amount of magic than every other Rank, but with little to no control. Thanks to the ginormous amount of Éter they have, if they were to cast a spell, it would not only cause unimaginable destruction, but it would also kill the Caster. Thankfully enough, the likelihood of one being a Sorcerer is slim to none and very few people were documented having this amount of power. Sorcerers go through rigorous training to keep their powers and mental health in check so as to not accidentally (or intentionally) destroy a nation.
Secondly, Wizards
The second most powerful Caster. Their powers work similarly as Sorcerers, but they have way more control over their Éter levels, as well as being less grandiose in quantity. Unlike the Highest Rank in Power, Wizards can control their magic more than Sorcerers, although not to a big margin. This new level of control and a bit less of Éter allows Wizards to manipulate more freely the magic they have, actually utilizing spells for other ways aside from Destruction. Being able to materialize the magic outside of their body (without it just being raw magic), Wizards tend to use their magic more like Constructs than Destroyers. The likelihood of one being a Wizard is still very small, but there were way more Wizards than Sorcerers in History.
Lastly of the Casters, Artificer.
The third in Rank is the Artificers. Just as rare as the Wizards, but with control over their considerable power, albeit lesser than the Wizards’. They can manifest structures made of actual materials, like silver, iron, stone, dirt… And be able to use it in ways that were only limited to the imagination of the Caster. If they wished to do so, they could alter what was already around them, mold their shape and form, change the overall molecules or even transform it into something new altogether.
Many Artificers either became renowned Blacksmiths, Artisans or Jewelers, passionate artists seeking valor and glory on their craft. Of course, the ones with magic on their souls could make equipment unrivaled by the commoner artist, thanks to their immaculate understanding and conception of reality. Many consider the Artificers to be the most important Casters in all Magic Users.
There are more classifications, but they all fall under the general classification of “Magic Sensitive”, meaning that they can use Éter, just not as grand or good as Casters. That's also the reason why they were all more common in rarity, or lack thereof. They fell under the Ranks of Alchemist, Runecrafter, Healer and Martial Artist, with the latter being the one of highest control over Éter of them all but with the least amount of power, yet they weren't frowned upon since Martial Artists composed the majority of the military force of every country in the Main Continent.
And then you remember that Fynsell doesn't have any Magic in her being.
“The Vyzar Continent. The Edhelraen Country. My ‘beloved’ home.”, Fynsell thought with a sneer.
Although religion is strong, the Elven Country is not sustained by its church, but rather by the market. Elves are very passionate about "perfection," so if they dedicate themselves to something, they will do everything to ensure it is flawless. As a result, militarism, politics, economy, and the church have never shown signs of crisis for about six centuries.
Galadar Nyëthilhand, Fynsell’s Father, is one of the 5 counts in the country. His role is to ensure that science and research continue to evolve. The problem is that he has to achieve this without abandoning magic. Which is the small twist Caeledrisc has when it comes to industrialization and that could not be more troublesome for the Nyëthilhand House. Every action that involved them was met with mockery and disdain since the House was very much focused on evolving without being dependent on Magic.
Galadar noticed that. Well, “noticed” is overstating it, but he was one of the few if not the only one who didn't ignore the fact that Magic was a finite resource. One wouldn't use magic forever, regardless of Rank. Political intrigue was already surging for the past decades as the reputation of Casters and Magic in general was in a steady decline since no one was truly putting a leash on the people with unmeasurable power, allowing them to do as they please. A foolish endeavor, a stupid mentality and a terrible lack of self preservation thanks to the True Elves being so deluded and arrogant, thinking no one would question their power.
“This is truly a test of patience.”
“My lady.”, Tricksy, the personal human Headmaiden of Fynsell, knocked on the door of her room.
“Come in.”, The Countess Elf said, already tired.
And she just woke up.
Fynsell got up, her under-gown is hanging out of beer shoulders, almost falling and revealing her bosom, much to Tricksy’s annoyance, yet it was to be expected. The maid could envy the girl, since private chambers were not only a commodity but also a rarity. Sleeping leisurely inside it should not only be expected but also a must. No one would know that the Count daughter behaved less courteously aside from the both of them.
“My lady, you should not be so carefree about your appearance, even behind closed doors.”, The maid advised in a courteous manner, yet Fynsell could see the subdued frown she had.
It was amusing to pester the maid, yet what she said was true. If Fynsell makes a habit of this, no doubt she will slip in public and diminish the already low reputation she has, “I'll behave from now on.”
“You better.”, Tricksy scoffed jokingly.
The Headmaiden clapped her hands twice and four more maidens entered the room, two opening the closet and arguing about which dress their master should use, while the others prepared to undress and bathe the True Elf. They proceeded, removing the under-gown and covering her with a towel, dragging her to the internal bathroom. The Headmaiden and the rest cleaned every part of their mistress’s body dutifully, some blushing at the natural beauty that Elves have. Fynsell however was on autopilot, already thinking on the day ahead, her work and the many headaches there were reserved for her family and herself.
Despite that, the Elven Lady tried her best to enjoy this brief moment of rest and solitude of her day, feeling the soothing warmth of the bath, the massage on her shoulders and the brushes on her small white-silver hair. If Fynsell was human, born in a noble family, or even a Lord's daughter of the outskirts dominions, she could maybe call this moment of her days, her usual mornings, the most bland and monotonous part of it. Yet in this Country, in this Continent and in this family? It was the most peaceful and uneventful part. All that it follows was manipulation, deception and false truths, everyone trying to out-do the other.
Dread. Simple as that.
After the bath, she was brought to her room again, the dress already chosen. A blue garment with details in white and black, a contrast to her hair that elevated her overall beauty, no doubt. She put on the dress with the help of her maidens, checking herself on the nearby mirror.
“How do I look?”, Fynsell asked for the sake of asking. She actually didn't care about the answer since no one would dare tell she was ugly.
“Beautiful, my Lady.”
“The colors of the dress match the hue of your blue eyes.”
“Not to mention your elegant white hair.”
Compliments as shallows as a dry well.
Nonetheless, she looked at the mirror again.
Fynsell Nyëthilhand has an ethereal beauty that captivates those around her. Her slender, lithe frame exudes intelligence and grace, a testament to her adaptability and determination. Her skin is fair, with a soft and flawless complexion that seems to glow in the sunlight, reminiscent of porcelain.
Her hair is her crowning glory, cascading down her neck in waves of white-silver that shimmer like molten metal in the light. Often styled in intricate braids or left to flow freely. Each strand seems to catch the light, adding to her radiant presence.
Fynsells’ eyes are a mesmerizing shade of Cerulean Blue that complemented the even darker shade of blue of her current dress. They hold a depth of tenacity and maybe even stubbornness, reflecting the inner strength and resolve. Her gaze is intense, commanding attention and respect from those who meet her gaze.
Her features are delicately sculpted, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, and full lips that hold a hint of both vulnerability and determination. There is a regal air about her, a natural grace and poise that speaks to her noble lineage and upbringing.
In terms of body shape, Fynsell possesses a slender yet curvaceous figure, with subtle feminine curves that accentuate her grace and elegance. She moves with a fluidity and confidence that exudes attention, whether she's dressed in flowing gowns fit for a noble or disguised to appear like common folk.
Yet all that matters little when no one takes you seriously and she has the most infamous reputation of the entire Confederation. Gods know how much her appearance actually meant something to other houses and countries.
“Thank you for your kind words.”, Fynsell managed to mask her fury with a tired face.
“My lady, we need to address your schedule for today.”, Tricksy reminded and Fynsell groaned under her breath, “It would be good to remember your duties and act accordingly.”
“I am aware. I didn't live thirty years by sheer luck.”, The Elf nobleness growled, not really hiding her irritation.
Tricksy ignored such behavior. She was already used to her mistress's stress by quite a while now. Who could blame her? She was marginalized because she was an anomaly, something new to the nobles of the Confederation. A member of an important family, without magic like commoners? That raised questions about Galadar’s fidelity and the upbringing of Fynsell. Theories that spoke about her being a bastard daughter, about her being adopted or even cursed as to not have magic. All lies and conjecture, of course. Tricksy was but a child when Fynsell was born, but she saw the process.
The maid grabbed a notebook and quite dramatically stated the schedule due today, “Well, you have breakfast with your family right in the morning. After that you have to aid the search of the device listed as ‘elevator’, perform your duties in your office and attend a meeting with your father, Lord Nyëthilhand.”
Fynsell’s eyebrows twitched at the last line, she hated to be in such meetings. Mostly because they are in their great majority to cordially insult the Nyëthilhand House, insult her and most irritatingly, insult her Father, the most intelligent man she knew. It was thanks to him that Fynsell was spared of many atrocities and public humiliations, as well as actually work in her lifespan. Otherwise she would be one of those useless nobles that only spent the fortune other members of the family managed to gather.
She didn't love Galadar, but she also didn't hate him. Fynsell managed to work and discover things thanks to him, such as Black Powder, engines and certain chemicals, basically increasing the warfare capabilities of Edhelraen significantly. But thanks to her condition, she would never be accepted as the true discoverer of such technological advancements, just because of this small detail. So, her father needed to take the credit or make all her work useless.
“I'll go eat then.”, Fynsell said, forcing her mind to focus on something else, “I am quite peckish.”
“At once, my Lady.”
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Fynsell walked the hallways of the Nyëthilhand House alongside her sworn Guard, Jay’Ky Latoor, the Magna. His unique name and species were a small amount of fresh air in Caeledrisc, but for different reasons as one might think. Jay’Ky, or just Jay, as he liked others to call him, is a Magna, a tan-skinned species with horns on the top of their heads. Funnily enough, all males are bald while the females did have the most beautiful hairs in all known species. Not to mention the unique eyes, the irises being in different shapes. It is a rare occurrence to find a Magna with round irises, or so the Magna tell themselves.
Jay wore the sky blue armor of a guard of the House, with the only difference being the cloak he used, symbolizing his duty as personal Guard. In his waist there are two Short Swords, each for both his hands. He saw as his Lady came out of her room, already with a frown on her face, much to Jay's amusement.
“They complimented you?”, He asked teasingly.
Fynsell nodded, “Like there's no tomorrow.”
“Can't be helped. As long as you have good things to say about them, they won't be fired.”, Jay said with a grin, a playful one.
Fynsell only glared at her Guard, questioning herself if he always knew what to say to piss her off even more. Then again, she doesn't trust anyone aside from Jay and her father, the only people she can freely speak what's in her mind. Her father for obvious reasons, but not the same for Jay. It was more of the actual boldness the Guard has to just refuse to be cordial with her. Fynsell enjoyed this, someone speaking with her without hiding their true thoughts and intentions. Something much more needed in Caeledrisc, especially when everyone seemed to hate her even when they've never truly met.
“So, my Lady, what's the schedule for today?”, Jay asked with a smirk, all too well knowing what was going to be today.
Fynsell continued to walk the hallways, “First, breakfast with my beloved family.”, She didn't say it sarcastically, but not caringly too, “Then work on things that won't be recognized by me and lastly and unfortunately, attend a meeting with other Houses at my father's side.”
The Guard frowned himself at hearing those words, “A meeting, eh? I see you got your hands full.”
“That I am.”
“What could this meeting possibly be about? I don't want to fiddle with what isn't theoretically my concern, but I find it very unlikely that you should be present there.”, Jay stoically pointed out, “It's Lord Nyëthilhand we are talking about.”
“That's something I also am trying to find out.”, Fynsell admitted, “It's strange that I was asked to attend it, but I cannot just not go. My duties and responsibilities are more important than my needs, regardless if I like it or not.”
That didn't mean Fynsell was pleased to hear such news, however. She was able to make her discontent with a plain regal face, yet her mind was groaning at the future endeavor. Jay seemed to be humming disapprovingly, but he didn't say anything about it.
“At least you can do something, even if the credit doesn't go for you.”, He said with a scoff.
“Do you have something to say?”, Fynsell asked with authority, stopping at her tracks and side glancing at her Guard.
“I do. Depends if you want to hear it.”, Jay's honestly never stopped amusing Fynsell, who motioned him to speak, “Well, I am loyal to you, but every time Lord Nyëthilhand takes credit for your discoveries and inventions, not only you are seen even more as a waste of space, but also the House, surprisingly, which confuses me, gets seen even more as a liability.”
“How so? The technological advancements increased the warfare of Edhelraen and welfare of Caeledrisc as a whole.”, Fynsell's interest was genuinely peaked, but she managed to hide it with a cold stare.
It was a must-have ability to hide your true emotions. Otherwise plots and schemes of the nobles would not even leave the paper.
“That might be true, however, how do your father and yourself do these advancements?”, Jay inquired, just like someone waiting to say “I told you so” would.
Fynsell managed to not frown, but she knew very well what Jay meant by saying that, “Without the use of magic.”, She sighed deeply.
“Correct.”, Despite the previous tone, Jay spoke casually about it, “Tradition is at an all time high thanks to previous wars and discoveries. Even more so thanks to the Draconic Iridium.”
Fynsell reminisced the name of those Crystals. The same one that made the Vyzar Continent change their perspectives towards species, currency and culture. It happened almost a thousand years ago and the effects of such war still lingered, even more now that new Crystals were found in recent years.
“Tradition.”, She muttered, “We, the Nyëthilhand, will change how things are.”, Fynsell said proudly.
“As if.”, He scoffed angrily.
Fynsell raised a brow, wondering what he was talking about, “(Would you please explain?)”
She spoke Magnish, the mother language of Jay. Few spoke this language inside the Confederation and Fynsell knew very well no one of her family or House knew how to speak it, that's why she was very comfortable asking him in the open without seeking privacy. They continued going to the dining hall while they spoke.
“(The only one that truthfully cares about progress in the entire Confederation is Galadar. Your mother might appear to support him, but we know very well she cares more about wealth than anything else.)”, Jay replied, a bit angry, but still coherent.
“(I remember very well the stories about their wedding. Truly a political example.)”, Fynsell cringed internally, but showed fake hurt on the outside.
It was a miracle that her mother, Countess Elisha Nyëthilhand, didn't have bastard sons or showed any sign of infidelity. Her true nature was one that sought riches, status and power, not political power but genuine power. Imagine her disappointment that the first child was born without magic, bringing shame towards the House. Thankfully for Elisha, the new two children had acceptable levels of magic, making Fynsell the family's black sheep.
“(Still, I fail to see how my mother would be relevant enough to stop progress.)”
“(Allow me to explain)”, Jay coughed, “(Your siblings, Lord Laelithar and Lylthar, The Twins, only care about their so amazing magic and how they can be worthy of her love and attention, thus using every opportunity to mock you for the slightest mistake, even if you didn't have any control over it.)”, Jay finished by spitting on the ground.
The idea that her Lady was disrespected so openly made him shiver in wrath, yet he couldn't do anything, for he was a mere Guard. Nothing more.
“(So, what you say is that my mother fakes her approval and my brothers only care to please her.)”, She summarized, (“I can't really say you are right, but I can't disagree either.)”
“(Thank you, My Lady.)”
“However, I must do these things. I ask for your collaboration.”, She said, returning to speak Elvish.
Jay only sighed as they reached the dining room door.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
They entered and other Guards were there, dutifully watching the surroundings. Their presence was immediately noted and Lord Galadar only motioned Fynsell to sit, which she did while Jay leaned on the wall, begrudgingly waiting near his Lady.
“Mourning, Father. Mother. Brothers.”, Fynsell gave the ready-to-use compliments she used every day when they met.
Galadar nodded, while Elisha, Laelithar and Lylthar ignored her presence. It seemed she entered when her siblings were talking about something else, which she tried her best to not get involved in. Even so, the topic at hand caught her interest, so while Tricksy appeared and prepared the meal of her Lady, Fynsell, taking a few sips of wine, listened intently.
“-that’s what I was saying. If we buy stocks from Tiwuj Mining ITS, we will be raising more Pecunious for our House. If we are smart about it, the company will be indebted to us, to some extent, of course.”, Laelithar said cordially to his twin brother.
“Still, do we have enough money for it? Last time I checked you were using it to explore the ruins on Halwsted Valley, looking for some kind of discovery.”, Lylthar however didn't look as enthusiastic about the idea, judging by his tone of voice.
“And I found it.”, Laelithar reiterated. By the tone of his voice, he seemed to repeat this to his brother repeatedly, “Be frank with me, how many times have you seen an expedition where it's found, technically speaking, a new way to use magic?”
“I will grant you that, it is a big discovery. But the money you spent there was too big to receive by just buying stocks on the Stock Exchange. I understand the implications, but did you search about the company?”, Lylthar spoke with a plain voice, but his face had suppressed annoyance.
“As a matter of fact, dear brother of mine, I did.”, He declared proudly, “Even though Tiwuj is mining less ores, they are still getting a fair sum of profit and with less staff, meaning they are paying less people thus reducing costs. If you join me in this, we can not only recover the investment, and in my case, recover my spending on the excavation, but also profit with the company.”
Tricksy appeared with a plate of food and a small dessert after the main meal. Fynsell heard about the Tiwuj company a fair number of times, some even being work related. If someone were to listen to their chat without knowledge about the company, they'd agree that it looks like a fair deal. Both siblings would buy some amount of stocks and profit from the company's work, as long as they provided the company itself with their small ideas to improve said work establishment. However, something about this whole idea Laelithar was telling seemed to just miss something very important. And if it was to give a small payback to their siblings by pissing them off, Fynsell was all in.
Why? Because it's fun.
“Brother of mine, did you by any chance know how the company works?”, She said with a small smirk.
The Elf Twin looked at the Cursed Nyëthilhand with ire, but curiosity, “Yes, I do. They are a mining company that has been active for the past decades, bringing profit, Pecunious and work for the commoners. It was founded in 956, almost a century ago, by the Elf Politician of the time, Ser Klentar Ussdemir, Knight of The First Emperor, before the Empire was dissolved into the Confederation we know and love.”
His tone of voice was cordial, yet arrogant and condescending, much like how Laelithar would speak with Fynsell at any given opportunity. Lylthar also looked smug about such a question, as if she didn't know basic knowledge of the Tiwuj Company. All the reactions Fynsell needed to find this rather amusing debate be turned into a hilarious memory in the future.
“Laelithar, do you know how much minting has been done by Tiwuj last year?”, She asked after taking a bite of her meal. The question made Elisha turn her gaze to the siblings.
“Well… No. I haven't checked these records.”, He said, a bit confused why Fynsell would ask this.
“It did 16% less than the previous year. Which by itself is 63% less than a decade ago.”, Fynsell said with a stern face, hiding her amusement.
She needed to hide it since Laelithar didn't get what that meant. Minting is the process of creating the currency everyone uses, the Pecunious. If there is less minting done, it means less money is being created, which is not a bad thing, since if it's minted too much it will increase inflation, degrading the money's value.
“Alright… I fail to see how that's relevant, Fynsell.”, Lylthar spoke, just as confused as his twin.
“Do you know how much crystals, jews or pearls were reported when they did a checkup after a few months of mining the caves and veins?”, Fynsell asked, same tone as before. This time, Galadar glanced at his daughter, curious on how this is going.
“No? Seriously, why is this being brought up?”, Laelithar asked, now failing to hide his anger.
“It reported a decrease in 34% of the materials compared to the same period last year. Which is by itself 57% less compared to the same period two decades ago.”, She explained, a fake smile on her face, not mocking them openly, but still doing it.
“Uh… That's…”
“Do you know how much the company did profit with the exchange of minerals with blacksmiths in the last year alone?”, This was the big one that Fynsell was hiding. She mentally hoped one of the twins would take the bait.
“Oh let me guess, it was 20% less? Maybe 30%? 50%?!?”
Laelithar snapped at her sister. The pleasant atmosphere that existed moments ago was completely destroyed. The maids and cooks were shocked and stopped what they were doing to see the argument. Elisha who was silently judging the entire thing finally paid full attention to the discussion. Fynsell simply ate her Banana Creme Brulee, trying to ignore the situation, despite finding the entire exchange hilarious.
She then did a “0” with her hand, “The company doesn't sell their minerals and ores to blacksmiths.”
That statement made Laelithar look utterly stupid for not checking this information beforehand, but what enraged him the most was that it was her who was telling him all of this.
“She is right.”, Elisha said, much to the three siblings' surprise, “I suppose you don't even know what the ITS in the Tiwuj Company is, right?”
The twins were incredibly embarrassed at the inclusion of their mother at the conversation, but managed to nod, “Yes, mother. I am not aware of what that means.”
Fynsell then lifted one of her fingers, “International Trade and Shipping.”
“Correct.”, She looked at her daughter for a single second before looking back at the twins, “The company still is a mining one, but it has been gradually changing to a mercantile one, importing and exporting goods, securing trade treaties with the other nations of the Confederation and Vyzar as a whole. However they didn't change the name of the company so as to not confuse old clients. That's one of the reasons why they are getting more profit with less workforce.”
Galadar, who was spectating this without any facial expression, finally voices his opinion on the matter, “That's not the only problem with it too.”
Galadar's voice was icy, one that only an Elf that lived for more than three centuries could attain. His face showed respect and intelligence, a veteran who is focusing his efforts on other plans. Fynsell barely knows what her father is thinking most of the time, yet seeing him actually educating the twins is something new, since he never really cared too much about them. Granted that this is on them, since both Laelithar and Lylthar don't really give reason to Galadar feel pride in them.
The Count looked directly at the twins, “The company is making incredible and still increasing money on their own, with reliable, loyal and ever improving staff that had been selected with the qualities and complications meticulously drafted, as to make the perfect work team for Tiwuj.”, Galadar spoke with firmness and sharpness.
He looked at Fynsell, and she immediately knew he was giving her room to speak, “Basically, that means that Tiwuj has the perfect team to continuously improve the company for many years to come. You suggested that you two should buy stocks from them, but I highly doubt they would sell you any.”
“And why is that?”, Laelithar asked, feeling quite offended that his sister was summarizing information to him, as if he didn't understand in the first place.
Elisha sighed, “The company is already making huge progress on their own. Sure, the immediate money sounds nice,”, She spoke matter-of-factly, trying to hide her frustration, “but in the long run, the stocks would hold too much political strength inside the company.”
“And judging by how you two didn't know what the company did,”, Galadar concluded disdainfully, “you'd probably jeopardize the company's business.”
“Sure, the company might still sell you the stocks, but it will either be because of an error of a fool or a scam. Regardless of your choice, they will find a way to take your name out of the company and still have the money.”, Fynsell finished, faking innocence while mocking her siblings.
Who could only look down in shame.
“Damn. My Lady must be feeling better now. She roasted the poor guys. Well, they aren’t worthy to feel pity, but still.”, Jay thought amused.
The Elf Daughter looked at her mother. Her face showed that despite agreeing with Fynsell, she didn't have a change of perspective over her. Fynsell knew that. Elisha might hate that her first and only daughter was born without magic, but was not going to ignore the fact that she has a brilliant mind.
Nevertheless, she still has a lot of things to do today. Might need to mentally prepare for it.
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It is afternoon right now.
And today's morning shenanigans might be the only good news Fynsell had, since it was all downhill from that.
It first started when she helped an Alchemist, traveling all the way to the south of Edhelraen, build a steam elevator, powered by magic. The idea itself was bad, because the elevator can already work alone, but the Alchemist insisted on utilizing magic to increase its speed. All of that could be achieved by a hydraulic elevator, which was cheaper and didn't require continuous input from someone inside it.
“Tradition is a bitch.”, Fynsell thought, heavily annoyed.
The idea to continue to use the steam elevator was already stupid. A steam elevator works by using steam pressure to power a piston or hydraulic system, which moves the elevator cab up and down. Steam is generated by heating water in a boiler, creating pressure that is then used to drive the elevator mechanism.
And the idea is bad because the inside of the elevator becomes a sauna.
A stupid sauna.
It becomes so unbelievably hot that you might want to learn how to fly instead of going inside one. Nevertheless, she swallowed the rage and helped the Alchemist, who obviously bragged about his own work and how he should thank Count Nyëthilhand since he gave a competent assistant.
In her office, more problems came knocking on her door. A few weeks back, there was a theater preparing a play in which the screenplay had a lot of unnerving and traumatic roles and parts that had crimes being committed without any kind of suavity. It was plain death, gore and other things that Fynsell didn't want to remember. He assisted the theater by telling them to change the screenplay so the actors wouldn't get PTSD after a specific word was said near them. How did the public and press reacted when the play finally came out?
They said that the Nyëthilhand House was censoring the original art piece.
Basically a death sentence in a nation whose political powers consist only of Elves. Who cares if the other species that enacted the play will have long lasting damage to their psyche? It's censorship for crying out loud! This made Fynsell groan heavily at the news, damaging not only her already barely existent reputation, but also damning the reputation of the House, making the life of her Father all the more complicated. All that was left from this nightmare of a day was to attend the meeting that she had no idea on what to do or expect.
Damned if she did, damned if she didn't.
“My Lady, I can see that you are-”, Jay tried to console her but was interrupted.
“Jay'Ky.”, She sneered, “I know what you're trying to do, but please, it's going to have the opposite effect.”
“I'm sorry, My Lady.”
Her eyes twitched, “Don't be. What happened was due to my gullible and foolish way of thinking. What this taught me is that I can't act without taking the necessary precautions first.”
Fynsell meant it. What she tried was to help those under the rule of the Confederation, but ended up being the scapegoat of other Houses' schemes. The only thing to do is to adjust, adapt and overcome the issues. No other way to go through the problem.
Jay remained silent, feeling sorry for her.
She looked at the door room that led to the reunion, grimacing at what could possibly be waiting for her there. She clapped her cheeks trying to concentrate and show the best aristocratic side she has. As she opened the door, she saw her Father and Marquis Puweydor, another True Elf, sitting on a table, drinking tea before the meeting started for real.
“Pardon me for my delayed arrival. I was taking care of some unfinished business.”, Fynsell took a bow to the men present in the room.
“No harm done,” The Marquis said in a friendly manner, “We were doing small talk, talking about unimportant things.”
Fynsell recognized a fake smile when she sees one, and the Marquis had one on his face.
With her own fake smile, she spoke to the Marquis, “If that's the case, I'm glad we can start the meeting without any further delay.”
“Please, Fynsell. Take a seat.”, Galadar motioned towards a chair.
She sat and was served tea immediately, which she wasn't going to drink, not immediately at least.
"Very well, I know that you are very busy, and please, don't get me wrong, I'm just... being pressured to find an answer," Puweydor said in a friendly yet pretentious manner.
"Is this due to the production of the Botanical Part, Medicine, and Industrial Production?" Galadar asked politely.
"Exactly, but I'm being pressured by the Medicine part. Have you already obtained the Draconic Iridium?"
"The delivery will arrive soon, Marquis Puweydor. It may take another 2 or 3 months before it gets here. At the latest, by the end of autumn."
Fynsell managed to hide her curiosity. A Draconic Iridium is one of the most prestigious magical items to have. The simple discovery of one might be enough to greatly increase the overall prestige of a nation as well as the political power.
"I fear that our leaders won't have the patience to wait until that delivery date.", Puweydor gave a resigned nod.
"Nevertheless, there's nothing we can do.”, Fynsell explained politely, faking sorrow in her voice, “We must wait for the shipment. But I may have an idea of what to do about it," Fynsell suggested, seeing that his father was under pressure from the Marquis.
"Intriguing. What idea is that?"
"We can discuss this at another moment, Marquis." Galadar looked at his daughter before turning back to the Marquis, "Let me just tell you the news from the Botanical and Industrial sectors so as not to take up more of my time."
"Yes, yes. Please, proceed.”
Galadar began to talk about Alienated Production, where each worker would specialize in a single function to streamline production and avoid the risk of the production being copied by another Kingdom or by clever individuals. He finished by explaining some techniques that involved pruning the tallest trees so that medicinal herbs, flowers, and plants could grow at the lower levels of the vegetation. Puweydor understood part of it all and was convinced that the Count was doing his job. Wanting or not, Count Nyëthilhand understands how to develop new methods of production far better than any other person inside Caeledrisc.
It was incredibly insightful if Fynsell could say so herself.
“-essentially when workers are disconnected from the products they create.”
Puweydor hummed deeply, “Disconnected? How so?”
“Well, think about it this way. In traditional artisanal work, craftsmen have a direct connection to what they produce. They pour their creativity, skill, and labor into each item. But in alienated production, workers in future industries become mere cogs in a machine. They perform repetitive tasks without seeing the final product or understanding its purpose beyond their immediate task.”, Galadar eagerly explained.
“Ah, I see. So it's like they're just doing one small part of the process without seeing the bigger picture?”, The Marquis asked, intrigued.
“Exactly. They're not involved in the design, decision-making, or even the distribution of the product. Their labor becomes commodified, reduced to a means of generating profit for the owners of the means of production.”
“That sounds dehumanizing.”, Despite the claim, he did not sound displeased with the idea.
Fynsell also noticed how he used the word “dehumanizing”, a term created by humans when they want to call something cruel.
“It is.”, Galadar confirmed with a stone face, “Workers become estranged from the fruits of their labor, which leads to feelings of powerlessness, dissatisfaction, and alienation from the work itself.”
“But why does this happen? Couldn't companies involve workers more in the process?”, Puweydor tried to search for flaws in the Counts’ logic.
“In theory, yes. However, capitalist production is driven by the pursuit of profit above all else. Companies prioritize efficiency and cost-cutting measures, often at the expense of worker involvement and satisfaction.”
“So, alienated production is a byproduct of capitalism?”, Fynsell asked, kinda following what was going on, but still. It doesn't hurt to ask.
“Precisely. It's a fundamental aspect of the capitalist mode of production, where the primary goal is to maximize profits for the owners, often at the detriment of the workers' well-being and fulfillment.”
“That's a lot to take in.”, Fynsell decided to drink her tea now. It was in the perfect temperature.
“But if alienated production leads to all these negative consequences, why would anyone choose to implement it?”, Puweydor didn't forget to follow any lead to a mistake.
“That's a fair question.”, Galadar admitted with a frown, “While alienated production may have its drawbacks, it's often seen as the most efficient way to organize labor within a capitalist framework. Companies prioritize profit and productivity above all else, and alienated production allows them to streamline processes and minimize costs.”
“But wouldn't it be better for both workers and companies to have a more collaborative and fulfilling approach to production?”
“In an ideal world, yes.”, His tone turned more grimm, “However, under capitalism, the pursuit of profit tends to outweigh other considerations. It's a systemic issue that requires broader societal changes to address. But by understanding alienated production and its effects, we can advocate for more humane and equitable systems of production in the future.”
“I suppose you're right.”, Puweydor gave up. It seemed Count Nyëthilhand still is the better in the socialism department, “In theory, it makes sense within the current economic structure. But it's still disheartening to think about the toll it takes on workers. Maybe someday we'll find a better way to organize production that benefits everyone involved.”
“Agreed. It's important to acknowledge the flaws of the current system while also striving for a more just and sustainable future. That's the first step towards meaningful change.”
Fynsell was quite surprised at the back and forth battle between her father and the Marquis. Thankfully, it was over.
“On another matter now, what would be the idea our great Fynsell suggested?”
“Crapbaskets.”
“That was an idea we were discussing in private.”, Galadar was quick to answer, “We were planning on sending Fynsell to secure the delivery in order for it to not go south. Figuratively and literally.”
“Y-yes.”, Fynsell almost screwed things up, “The delivery will come in a ship from Eldora. If I am not mistaken, it was Richardson, the nation's Foreman, who guaranteed the delivery to be sent. Me being there would serve as a reminder for them to not think of doing anything funny.”
Fynsell was quite proud that she could improvise with her father like that on the fly.
“Hmm. Is it safe to do so?”, Puweydor asked in fake worry, “Weren't you involved in all that censorship deal a while back?”
“Marquis, please. This is not the time for such accusations.”, Galadar warned.
“I'm only preoccupied, my friend. I'm sorry if it came out wrong.”, He wasn't, but whatever.
“Anyhow, Fynsell, it will be much better for you to secure this location. You will be able to see new cultures and do an honorable mission to our nation. Take it as a business trip, if you will.”
“I will not.”, She thought.
That's the most polite way her father said “you better leave before shit hits the fan” ever. What angered Fynsell more was not the fact she was forced to go away, that much was inevitable, but that Father tried to convince her to enjoy it. If it was for her to see it as a way to blow off some steam or to not get involved in the House matters, she couldn't tell. But then again, being here won't be the smartest decision right now.
“Thank you, father. I'll be leaving as soon as possible.”, She smiled at her father.
----------------------------------------
They continued to talk about various topics, be them related to Edhelraen, philosophies or recommendations for specific dishes, it got pleasant at some points. Fynsell however was still anxious about what her father could possibly be doing with a Draconic Iridium, a crystal so powerful and yet so small. Marquis Puweydor eventually said his goodbyes for the day, making both Father and Daughter breathe more easily.
“Well, I have my own deeds for today. Prepare your luggage-”
“Father.”, Fynsel interrupted, “What on Molkarov are you thinking?!”
Galadar looked at his daughter, knowing full well what was coming, “Don't worry, Fynsell. It's all under control.”
“Control? Are you sure? Because I still don't understand the reason why you are giving someone a piece of that damned crystal!”, All etiquette was thrown at the window. Her concern for her father's wellbeing was surpassing her common sense right now.
“I know what you are saying, but I- no, our House needs to adapt and change the rules of the Confederation in order to survive. If we keep using the same rules we'll eventually lose.”, Galadar explained, keeping a calm and collected voice.
Fynsell frowned, “Is this because of that deal? You shouldn't have taken it.”
“I had no other choice, child.”, He rebukes, “I tried to find another solution, but there wasn't. I'd rather take the deal and secure our safety.”
“I prefer a thousand times to be gone than to accept such terms!”, She snapped.
Fynsell's voice turned from frustration to plain fury, her hand hitting the table. The pain she has in her fist will never equal the mental anguish she feels. Not by a long shot.
“Of course you would.”
…
…
That voice. That made Fynsell stop and look at her father, who was giving the saddest smile she saw in her entire life. What it meant? Galadar recognized that thanks to her immature way of thinking, she would defy the denial of possibilities? Or that he recognizes her nature to question things before anything? Fynsell couldn't tell for sure.
“Fynsell— No. My daughter, please understand. I will not be here forever. You need to understand how the world works and understand that no one will openly give you a hand without asking something in return. Especially inside the Confederation. I love you, I always did. And there is no day that I think about that day with regret.”, His voice was old, a rare tone for Elves, “If any deity would give me a second chance that day, I'd do everything the exact same way.”
That hit way harder than it should. Fynsell couldn't look at him right now. If she did, she was obviously going to cry, even if to a slight degree. It's hard to think that an Elf might die of old age, but that might be the case for Galadar. He is one of the oldest living Elves right now, having the first offspring just about thirty years ago, that one being Fynsell herself, a mere teenager by Elf standards. To think about her father's death…
It brought pain to her heart.
“I will be going now.”, She said, leaving the table.
----------------------------------------
Jay, the Magna Guard, followed a beamed down Fynsell who was still shaken by what happened. He wants to ask, but won't do it. It doesn't seem to be the best time for it, all things considered. All he knows is that they will be sailing to Eldora and secure some kind of shipment. Curious, but still, standard. He could understand why her Lady needed to be away. Too much negative marketing and all thanks to the “censorship”, a thing that still sounds stupid, even out of context.
A Butler, one of many in the Nyëthilhand House, appeared.
“The carriage is ready.”
“Very well. My Lady.”, Jay offered a hand to help Fynsell get on the carriage.
She accepted without realizing. Fynsell looks at her house, or rather, mansion. A mansion perfectly crafted with architecture from the Romantic era, where expressions easily emerged in everything. From paintings, sculptures, food, music, and apparently, residences. White with blue details, a garden adorned with Blue Hydrangeas, leading to the family crest. It wasn't a gigantic mansion, but it had character and integrity.
The girl wonders when it was built, but she abandons that thought. Fynsell observes the garden, being tended to by not the best, but decent gardeners using Count Galadar's cultivation techniques. She thought the garden was a waste of time. Why bother with appearance when the family didn't care about what happened behind the scenes?
Not that they didn't care really. It's just that they were so accustomed to things going wrong due to the patriarch's defiance of magical doctrine that they didn't see the need to interfere so much anymore.
But Fynsell didn't see it that way. If something was to be done about something, it should be done to the end, not stopped by one or two deviations. The thing is, it's been 10 years, but she wouldn't see it from that perspective. She wasn't mature enough.
The harbor was visible from the horizon.
Fynsell sighed.
“Why do I even do this?”