The next day, while the prince’s paladins questioned the castle staff about Dame Anda’s accident, I gathered with my friends and followers for a meeting. We were seated in a spacious room on the fifth floor with a grand balcony on the side opposite to my own. Mike had nicknamed it the “council room.”

The room featured two large double doors opening onto the east terrace, a fireplace across from them, and an imposing oval mahogany table at its center. It could seat around twenty, though only a few of the original chairs remained, so we’d filled the gaps with a variety of mismatched seats.

Everyone was there: my five steadfast followers—Moran, Durham, Dohum, Loretta, and Tenessar—my friends Tom, Hew, and Mike, as well as Alice, Lynx, Sid, and even Tina and Michael. It was just after breakfast, and only tea, coffee, and some cookies were laid out on the table.

Only Ju was absent, pinned to our bed by a relentless headache since yesterday. The resurrection had drained nearly all her mana, and healing Mike afterward had been too much for her. She was already dealing with headaches from the ‘mana detoxification’ we were going through, and getting completely drained on top of that must have triggered this monstrous headache that kept her down. Poor girl.

The air was pleasantly warm, not quite hot, and the two suns bathed the room in a golden light. It was the kind of day that would be perfect for lounging on the shore with a good book. I sighed, taking a sip of my coffee, while Mike gestured to the cup in my hand.

“We’re almost out of coffee. Groceries are low, and we’ll soon be out of salt! We’ve got a good cook now, but he needs ingredients to make the food decent. The domain can’t supply everything, so could we arrange a transport to the nearest town for a shopping run?” he asked.

After I shrugged, he continued, “The prince’s room is barely furnished, and the paladin rooms are spartan at best. I’ve already borrowed some furniture from the inn for the prince, but we really need to buy more just to make these rooms presentable. We should also hire a skilled mage to restore the wards and, at the very least, get the water running again. Nothing works properly! ”

“Have you tried asking the orcs for help with the wards?” Loretta asked.

Dohum shook his head. “No point. They don’t have a decent wards mage; I already checked.”

"Where’d you pull that furniture from, Mike—the inn, or that red-lantern establishment?” Tom asked, eyeing him suspiciously. “Because my bedside locker looks like a stylized sexy fairy carrying a platform!”

I snorted at Tom’s question, and Mike just shrugged. “Be grateful you even have a bedside locker. If it's an issue, we can always take it away.”

“No, no!” Tom protested, a bit too quickly.

Hew cut in with the practical question. “How much are we looking at for all this?”

Mike sighed, turning to face him. “Depends on the final list, but if we strip it down to essentials and use the Xsoha-provided prices—which, by the way, are only marked as ‘informational’—we’d be looking at fifty gold to cover a reasonable spread. Bare minimum, I’d say twenty or thirty gold just to make things passable.”

Durham broke into a coughing fit at the mention of thirty gold, and Hew took a deep breath.

“That’s what you call bare necessities? Thirty gold?” he muttered, shrugging. “Better ask Ju for that kind of money; the treasury’s about as full as a mouse’s pantry right now.”

“They make chairs and tables out of twigs in the Northern Rim village,” Loretta suggested. “The same place that does those woven baskets. We could use some of those…”

Dohum looked at her incredulously. “You want to put the prince and the royal delegation on twig chairs?”

“No,” she countered, “but we could swap out some of our own room furniture with pieces from around the domain.”

“Not bad!” Tenessar said with a grin. “I’m volunteering the furniture from my room. Those twig chairs are fine by me, and the solid wood cabinets from the nearby village would be plenty for my needs. I don’t need anything fancy.”

“Duly noted,” Mike said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll toss in my room’s furniture too. Anyone else? Maybe we can scrape together something functional on the cheap.”

I glanced at Sid, half-expecting him to look bored, but he was deep in a heated discussion with Tina about Drackar's training, seated comfortably in his corner near Lynx. Their animated gestures told me it was intense. Since I couldn’t catch their words, I raised a brow and turned back to Hew.

“What kind of treasury are we running here, nearly empty?” I protested.

Hew sighed. “The treasury’s been cleaned out again and again over the years—any extra funds were skimmed off. Right now, we’ve got seventeen gold and some silver left. If Mike takes it all for essentials, we’re out of money by the end of the day. If not, we’ll be dry within three days.”

“What about the mine?” Tom asked, sounding hopeful.

Hew shook his head again. “Even if they started ore collection today—which they haven’t; they’re still searching for survivors—it would take time to process and sell. And in three days, we’re due for the Xsoha quarterly pay, which is another twenty gold minimum.”

I sighed. "What if we don’t pay them right on time? They could wait a few days!"

“Not recommended,” Hew replied. “They’ll just cover it from the Xsoha bank and label it as a loan. It’s automatic.”

Ah, the Xsoha. They were doing useful work, sure, but their services seemed absurdly overpriced. Ju had the money to handle it, but the thought of paying those rates grated on me.

Lynx cleared his throat, giving a casual shrug. "You know, my offer still stands. We could settle this pretty easily."

I rolled my eyes. Lynx had been campaigning for a little “side venture”—a nice, lucrative heist on a bank or a wealthy noble’s estate. He was convinced we could pull it off without a hitch, maybe even make it a series of jobs to cover our costs long-term. But the idea of becoming Lores, the robber baron, was not how I planned to succeed in society.

“Thanks, Lyn, but no," I said firmly, making sure to keep it vague so the others didn’t pick up on his creative financing suggestions.

He threw his hands up in mock exasperation. “I just don’t get it! Why make things so complicated?”

I sighed, shaking my head as I turned to Hew. “Have you checked if there’s any way to end the Xsoha’s contract without a penalty?”

Durham looked taken aback. “You want to get rid of the Xsoha?”

I nodded. “Yes. They’re eating up too much of our funds.”

A low murmur of surprise rippled through the followers on their side of the table.

“But the domain can’t run without them,” Dohum finally said, after a pause. “Who else would track all the work—the serfs’ labor, the ore production, grain collection, cattle counts, everything we produce, buy, and sell?”

Hew stepped in, “Almost everything functions without them, Dohum. Their main tasks are recording and verifying transactions and overseeing finances.”

Loretta leaned in, whispering, “What’s a financial transaction?”

“Any time money changes hands,” Dohum explained quietly before turning to me, a bit firmer. “Without them, we’d lose control of our records. You’d need to hire an entire new team to handle the accounts, and everyone knows the Xsoha are the best at it. You’d likely end up paying more for a team that can’t do half as well.”

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“It can be done,” I said firmly. “We don’t need to control every little thing; we could manage with random checks.”

Hew gave a long sigh, then looked up at me.

“I might have found a way,” he replied, answering my question from before. My eyebrows shot up, my curiosity piqued.

“Alright? Let’s hear it!” I urged.

“Well,” he began, “since the Xsoha contract is directly with the domain, failing to pay the tax when the orcs were in charge could technically count as a breach of that contract—a felony against the domain.”

“Hew, you’re brilliant!” I broke into a broad grin.

Durham, however, wasn’t convinced. “But the orcs kept all the money! How could they have paid the tax?”

“That’s the story, yes,” Hew replied calmly, “but it’s not accurate. The orcs actually left enough for the Xsoha to cover the tax.”

Durham looked dubious, and Dohum shook his head in agreement. “And we’re supposed to take the orcs at their word?”

“It’s not just their word,” Hew explained. “It’s in the records—every booking is logged, showing they took the money but withheld it. The evidence is right there.”

Durham’s face tightened with concern. “You can’t just remove the Xsoha from the domain! Who’s going to record the roadwork? Are you planning to handle that? And what about the mine? The Xsoha register all the work, materials, and expenditures! Now, with the chief engineer missing, we’re down to an apprentice. Taking out the Xsoha would be a disaster!”

Tom raised a hand. “I can cover that,” he offered, then shrugged. “My family’s in mining. I’ve got some operational know-how, and I’ve reviewed the records with Hew.”

Durham didn’t look reassured. “A little bit of knowledge won’t be enough. Should I still handle the spending approvals?” he asked warily.

“No, I’d take that on myself,” Tom replied, turning to me. “If that’s alright with you, Lores?”

I nodded, seeing the determination in his eyes.

“Does that mean you’ll be moving to Oxfarm?” Michael asked.

Tom shrugged again. “Not moving, it's just four kilometers away—perfect for getting in some riding practice. Though, I’ll likely be spending a lot of time there initially, so maybe I’ll need a place to stay close by the first quarter* or so.”

(* a Kargath quarter = 8 days)

*

After the meeting wrapped up and everyone dispersed to their tasks, I made my way over to Sid. He and Lynx were still sitting in their chairs, casually sipping their drinks and chatting.

"So, are you already bored of these human meetings?" I asked as I approached.

He looked up at me, smiling brightly. "No, Mom. It’s actually a lot more interesting than I expected—seeing all these details! I didn’t realize how much I’d been missing before."

"What’s your take on it all?” I prompted, curious.

He paused, then asked, “Mom, can I ask you something? Why don’t you just burn the bad guys? I mean, you let these problems fester, and they cause you so much trouble!”

Did he somehow know about my almost setting the poor engineer on fire? Was this a veiled reference to that? Incidentally, we still didn’t know what had become of him.

“You can’t just go around burning people,” I reasoned. “You have to be sure they’re guilty, and then give them the punishment they actually deserve.”

He shrugged. “If you say so, Mom. I still don’t get it, but... you’re the boss. Anyway, if you do need someone burned down, just let me know, okay?”

I snorted in disbelief, but finally relented. “Alright, Sid, I’ll let you know.”

He beamed at me, looking pleased with himself. Rolling my eyes, I left to check on Ju.

I mulled it over, realizing that maybe Lynx wasn’t the best influence on Sid’s development. I might want to keep a closer eye on him.

*

In a meeting room on the ground floor of a building across the castle courtyard, a group of orcs were gathered around a bottle Drackar had brought. Each one downed their glass, offering their thoughts on the quality—it was a trial run for a new booze supplier from the Orclands. As he refilled their glasses, Drackar turned to Wetina.

"How’s training going?" he asked.

She chuckled. "Slow. They haven’t shown much talent yet, and motivation’s lacking. If they want real progress, they’ll need to understand it takes a lot more work." She shrugged. "A bit like the average orc, actually. That little one, Tina—she’s the most talented of the bunch, but even she needs a kick in the ass to put in the work."

“What about the two mages?” Drackar asked.

“Oh, those two are a different story,” Wetina replied. “They seem to have a solid command of their classes—at least, as far as we can tell—and they’re eager to learn new techniques, which isn’t typical. Most high-level types focus on perfecting what they already know and ignore anything outside their wheelhouse.”

Hordius leaned in, intrigued. “Is one of them really that dragon?”

Drackar shrugged. “Possibly. But she did ask me to stop spreading stories about dragons.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for that?” Woktarod asked with a raised eyebrow.

Drackar sighed. “All the sightings could technically be explained by illusions. With mages that powerful, it’s entirely possible.”

“Even the footprints? The broken trees? The roars?”

Drackar shrugged again. “Yes, even those.”

Drackar chuckled. "It would fit their style, actually—they act more like young pranksters than the old, seasoned powerhouses they probably are.”

“And should we comply with her wishes?” Wokta asked, still uneasy about having a non-orc overseeing their domain.

“Why not?” Wetina replied. “Do you really want to risk crossing a hegemon?”

Hordius narrowed his eyes. “Are we certain she’s a hegemon?”

Drackar nodded. “From what her son’s told me, she is. And she’s not just a first-level one, either.”

“That might explain why she looks so young—hegemons live much longer,” Hordius mused. “Does that mean she could defend us, even against K'hordock?”

Wokta grumbled. “Are we really hiding behind a beastkin’s skirt?”

“A dragon’s skirt, Wokta,” Wetina corrected with a slight smile. “But the real question is, would she actually side with us? Or would she and K’hordock strike a deal that leaves us in the dust?”

“So, we just keep playing nice?” Woktarod asked.

“With the Great Chief aligning the tribes under K'hordock, our choices are limited: either we play along her game, or we fight and die, or run even farther,” Drackar replied.

“Or we could submit,” Wokta suggested.

“Never!” Wetina said defiantly.

“Aren’t we already submitting to her?” Hordius questioned. “What’s the difference?”

Silence fell, all eyes on Drackar, waiting for his answer.

He finally spoke. “The difference? Did she come here demanding we submit?”

“Well, she did come…” Wetina said hesitantly.

“Yes, she came because the King granted her the domain. But she didn’t demand submission, didn’t even tell us to leave. We offered to serve as her garrison, and she accepted. If she asks us to do something, we’re free to refuse and walk away. With K'hordock, it would be another matter entirely—we’d be bound by an oath of fealty, and any defiance would mean treason. That’s why I’d rather stay under her charge. If anyone would rather submit and return to the tribes, you know where the door is.”

"Chief, you know we'll follow you to hell if that’s where you lead us," Wokta, the giant, said with a shrug.

“To hell and back out if possible!” Woktarod laughed, raising his glass. "And this drink—I'd say we keep this provider!"

“Cheers to that!” Wetina agreed, clinking her glass against his.

"A bit too soft, but it'll do," Wokta added, clinking his glass in turn.