Martin dodged around the corner. Footsteps echoed off the stone of the hall as he hurried around the next bend, staying ahead and out of sight.
“Back! Back!” One of the new students – Sandra or Sasha, no Sarah - Sarah had appeared from a workroom. He hustled her back inside and closed the door gently as possible. He pressed his ear against it and heard the sharp click of Annette’s shoes getting ever closer. An alarmed Sarah went to say something but he put a finger to his lips, pleading for silence. The steps came closer and closer. His consciousness merged into the stone, he could feel each of the small impacts vibrate through his entire being.They came to a stop right outside the door he was still leaning against. He sent a winning smile at Sarah.
“Alas, the game’s up.” He opened the door, smile still in place. “Annette, darling! I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Hmm, yes I wonder why that is. You would never avoid me, would you Martin.” The glint in her eye let Martin know there was a correct answer to that question. He’d long learned the lesson of choosing battles with care.
“Of course not, you know I look forward to our chats.”
Her eyes narrowed impossibly further, there was no way she could actually see him right? She thrust out a sheet of paper. Martin took hold of it, absently noting the quality that Annette insisted on in all of the stationary they were forced to use.
Clearing his throat he began to read. “Let’s see,
* A meeting with the King’s Council to discuss sect contributions to the government and how the service should be reflected in our taxes. Hmm, you should probably do that one. Quartermaster and all that.
* A petition for access to the library. No wait, make that four separate petitions for the library. Well we can send those to Adam, wouldn’t want to ruin his fun.
* Interview with a paper, that’s you.
* Healing hours. Fine. I guess, but no more than a couple.
* Clearing out smaller spirit beasts, have the kids do that they need some real experience anyway. No one is going to die from a magic rabbit or whatever.
* Oh, a meeting with some merchant’s. Also you.
* More lessons for the novices, I guess we can kick that one over to Adam as well.
And, yeah, that looks like everything. Here you go.”
He put on his most charming smile to hand the paper back to Annette. No expression, and she didn’t move a muscle to take it back. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, her hand went to a rolled up scrap of paper tucked into her belt. Unfurled, it was a full sheet, and he could see writing covering the entire front and half the back.
“This,” she said, turning it to face him. “This is my list for the week.” Martin recoiled. He hadn’t realized quite so much was falling on her shoulders.
“Adam has taken on organizing the education of the students, outside of their basic cultivation training. Those are the petitions for library use that he has determined need to be a bit more forcefully declined. So Martin, believe me when I swear on all the stars above, you will complete that list.”
“Of course Annette.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll get started now.” After all, he’d also learned when to concede with grace; or at least he had after a childhood of Laurel and Imelda beating it into him.
*******
Council meetings were designed to be as boring as possible, Martin was sure of it. He’d shown up at the right time, and been led to a dull conference room in the palace. Why these meetings had to be held in the plainest possible room he wasn’t sure. A comfortable chair would have gone a long way towards forgiveness for the boredom, but none was provided. The glare from General Mansfeln when he brought out his own seat was icing on the cake. Instead of getting right down to sect business, they had spent eons discussing everything from the local economy to training schedules for the newest army recruits. He was leaning back in his chair, contemplating what kind of excuse he could use to slip away when he heard his name for the first time in an hour.
“Would that be acceptable Martin?” The stern-faced Madam Curson was looking at him expectantly, along with the entire council. Fuck. Laurel was not going to be happy if she came back and the rapport she had built with everyone was gone. And scarier, Annette would force him to fix it.
“That sounds satisfactory, yes.” Luckily he was at least much better at faking his way through charm than Laurel was.
“Excellent, I’ll mark the first hospital to be reinforced with mana next week. Now onto our next topic, magical defenses. Acting Sectmaster Martin, could you elaborate on the possibilities?”
“Laurel explained the natural treasures thing, right?” They all murmured agreement and General Mansfeln motioned at him to continue. “Embedding them into the major mana flows lets us use the ambient mana, aspected by the treasure, to generate an effect. So the defense options we have will depend on what they find.
“Air might let us make a wind shield, or generate wind blades from the cliffs. Fire would probably let us absorb high energy attacks. The best option would be some combination of air and earth or metal. They can be combined to a strong all around shielding effect. Eventually you want to get dozens or hundreds of treasures to help defend a city this size. And that’s not even including things like air and water purification or melting snow on the streets.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
General Skycrest’s eyes widened at this last option. “Wait clearing the streets –”
“Yes, fascinating, but we’ll need to table any true discussions until we know the resources available from what they bring back,” Curson said.
Martin respected a woman on a schedule but he knew enough about politicking to not let that lie. He cleared his throat pointedly.
Madam Curson let out a small huff and amended. “Those resources, of course, that the Eternal Archive chooses to use for the common good, rather than hoarding themselves.” He would let that one slide, as she wasn’t entirely wrong. Though of course strong cultivators to defend the city was also for the common good. Stars, Laurel had just left and he already couldn’t wait for her to get back.
*******
Martin had spent some time exploring the city in his quest to evade any new responsibilities. As such, he recognized that the ‘literary society’ Annette had put on his list was on his way home. Instead of taking a cab or a relaxing stroll straight down to the sect house, he made his way into one of the wealthier districts. Not so high up the hill that it encroached on the manor houses of the nobles, but still far above the squalor of the Flats. The kind of place that needed to shout to the world how wealthy the inhabitants were. He made his way to the door, deep wood topped with an embossed copper plaque announcing the ‘Meristan Society for the Preservation of Culture’. A knock and flashing the embroidered insignia on his official outfit and he was quickly ushered into a sitting room. Dark wood lined the walls enclosing a collection of men and women, none under forty years or thereabouts, were scattered around on settees upholstered in rich velvets, tiny glasses of a syrupy red wine being passed around.
Silence had descended when he walked in, but Martin was not one to eschew attention. Definitely not for the most exciting chore on the list. “Why good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for welcoming me into your charming salon.” A muttering had started up, but he could pick out the sect name and figured it was fine. “Now may I ask, if Madam Zara Rence and Mister Gregory Haxin are present?”
“That is Dr. Gregory Haxin, thank you sir.” A smaller man with a formidable mustache stood up from where he had been in discussion with a matron clad in a deep purple gown. “I am joined by Madam Rence. What can we do for you.”
Martin pulled out a piece of paper with a flourish from his spatial tattoo. “You two petitioned the Eternal Archive for – and I have the document here so I will read directly – ‘sole access to collections of ancient myths, legends, and fiction’. Is that correct?”
The muttering got louder. Several distinct voices echoed “sole access” loudly enough to be heard. He let it build, he was here to put on a show, after all.
“I’m afraid, the tenets of our sect do not allow for granting exclusive access to such works to non members, and as such we are unable to honor your request. We would not wish to block any of your esteemed colleagues from their own petitions.” The anger in the room was almost at a full boil, and Martin decided to slip out before it spilled over and splashed onto him or the sect.
“Have a good evening.” He left as quickly as he could without giving the appearance of haste. One down, three to go. Before the front door closed he heard the fight begin.
“I swear Greg this is the last straw on your membership”
********
Annette returned to her office after tracking Martin down. The stern expression stayed on her face until the door firmly closed behind her. Secure in her solitude, a chuckle and grin slipped out. It hadn’t been long, but she had realized early on that the man had a gift for lightening everyone’s mood, and the wisdom to apply the skill with absolute precision. Crossing to her window seat, she pulled out her notebook and got comfortable amongst the cushions. The light was perfect for morning work, gentle enough not to strain her eyes but bright enough to see by without using any of the glow stones. Even better, she had a view out over the city. Over the slums, past the middle districts where she was born and raised, all the way up to the rich areas clustered like grapes around the top of the hill, crowned by the palace. Annette had no ambition to rule, or tear down her country’s culture, but by the time she was done, she vowed they would be a force to be reckoned with, and not only for the magical powers.
She opened her notebook and crossed out ‘Martin’ from the top of her list with great relish. A quick review of everyone else’s chores confirmed they were all in order. She spent a pleasant hour reading the papers for anything they might need to be aware of, or any mention of the sect. A few letters dashed off to various guilds and a few artisans looking to sell to the sect and it was time to head out for the day. Before leaving she gathered the two dozen identical folded sheets of paper and stopped by a nook outside her door. A neat grid of cubby-holes lined the back, carved into the stone from waist to shoulder height, with room for plenty more. Elegant calligraphy revealed a slot for all the members of the sect. Each received a list, much like Martin’s, excepting those members currently gallivanting around the world. No one else was bold enough to require being hunted down by Annette to assign their weekly tasks.
A detour into the library showed Adam, in his customary position, bent over a carefully propped up book, wearing thin gloves and meticulously translating amidst a sea of reference materials.
“I’m off, you’re in charge while I’m away,” she told him. He grunted in reply. “Oh, and I gave Martin that list of applicants you said could use some more forceful discussion.” That got his attention.
“Oh? Well, I suppose if someone finds a murdered den of pompous old windbags we’ll know it worked.” Annette rolled her eyes and continued out.
*********
Mr. Grimley bounced out of his chair as Annette was shown into his office. It was exactly what she expected of the man. Loud, clashing colors filled every surface. Two paintings adorned the walls, both by fashionable artists. One was a classical landscape, the other an abstract riot of yellow splotches in different hues. The contrast made her eyes ache. It was not a tasteful room, and Annette knew the gentry would call it tacky or gauche. But it matched the man. Wrappings that were designed to distract and impress, all of the highest quality, but thrown together without harmony. A shrewd investor and businessman lived beneath the extravagant outfits, and she would not be thrown off by the costume.
“Thank you for meeting me here, my dear, I do appreciate it.” Said with a smile, Annette knew it for the subtle reminder that he was in a position with leverage over the sect.
“Not at all” she waved off his thanks. “Tell me, how is your wife?” He took this as an invitation and launched into a five minute explanation of his wife, his small child, and the perfectly curated charming anecdote that had happened ‘last week’.
“But forget all that. Let’s get down to business before I’m too off track.” he said.
“Yes, let's.”
“Ten percent of profit, from any product sold by your organization for the next ten years. I’ve taken quite a risk on my end, burned a few bridges in the guild, so I hope you know how interested I am in seeing it pay off.”
Annette sipped her tea while formulating a response. “I’m very confident your risk will pay off enough to make the rest of your fellow guildsmen jealous. Though, I hope with such a risk on your part you will do everything to see it succeed.”
The merchant leaned back and gave Annette an appraising look. Without changing anything about his appearance or position, the amiable but slightly oafish man melted away and she was sitting across from the youngest Merchant’s Guild council member in living memory.
“You’re a canny one. Let’s dispense with the game and be direct. I look at this as a potential investment. Maybe not of capital but of reputation. I want to know when I will start seeing a return.”
“We have several students almost to the stage of producing sellable goods.” Or they would, once she assigned Martin to make some and teach the others. And of course when the rest of them burned their mana channels into their body production could skyrocket.
“In the interest of respecting your own forthrightness, I will return the favor. We are not running a factory, and we never will be. Therefore we will never produce enough to flood the market. Enchanted home goods need to be seen as a status symbol, to keep the price profitable. As a member of the social elite, your efforts as such will be appreciated.”
They stared each other down in silence for several moments.
“Ha” he barked out a laugh. “I see we understand each other. So we have a deal.”
“Yes,” Annette said, “we do.”