Freyza imagined his gift was ill-received or had gotten lost in the undoubtedly many trunks full of lavish presents that Katherine would have received over the course of her year-long reign, when it took the Ilworthian delegation months even to respond to him. The need for metals such as tin and copper was burning red-hot in Freyza’s mind, and for a time, that mind of his seemed to be completely lost, given the fact that he did not immediately respond when an offer of Ilworthian tin came through from Neuhausen.

Luckily for him, his indecision was brought to an end manually by the hand of Lord Richard Dauncey, who after much consideration, had pronounced him of enough importance and sway to see the queen, along with himself and the treasurer, for an audience. In finer print was disclosed that the gift he had sent the queen had been confiscated and destroyed. A win and a loss, then.

He could not be more excited. Freyza had spent months in Souchon Palace, gazing down upon the many garden parties, where the queen danced and laughed and amused herself, and he knew that she had the bizarre ability to draw people into her orbit. She had, aside from the bizarre ability, also the bizarre desire to humour those in her orbit, which gave her yet another layer of delightful erratic charm. Though the business side of things was incredibly important to Freyza, he was curious — perhaps even charmed from a distance, pulled into that very same orbit like a distant heavenly body in a mammoth trajectory.

The morning of the audience, he was as well-groomed, perfumed, prepared and loaded with gifts as he was when meeting the sultan. His assistant Iskander was the one to carry them all in his little arms. When they walked side by side, and were not aware of these two court fixtures belonging together, people stared at them. Freyza was extremely tall, with long limbs and a naturally uncomfortable gait that came with being the sultan’s dog, or somehow was the criterion to be considered for the position. Iskander, on the other hand, was a man of dwarven proportions, with short arms that held onto the chests with a childlike posture. Though Iskander was older than Freyza, Freyza looked far older. Perhaps it was the grey in the hair of his temples.

Needless to say, he was early, and stood in the large hallway waiting for the Ilworthian guards to let him through the gargantuan doors. Freyza was impressed by the splendour of the delegation. Katherine was a guest in Souchon Palace, and yet a whole wing of it was dedicated to the seat of power, including this magnificent marble-floored hall that neighboured the best view of the gardens.

One of the doors opened just a touch, and a smiley woman stepped from it. Dorothy Abell, treasurer — Freyza had seen her around.

‘Lord Tougaf… or?’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Master Freyza is fine. It’s unbecoming to lead with land, where I’m from.’

She snickered and walked leisurely out, studying mostly the dwarf. ‘In that case, Master Freyza, that just makes me Dorothy.’

She softly opened the door further, offering him a glance into the makeshift throne room, which was really not a throne room at all, and instead looked more like a massive chancery. Immediately in his line of sight stood Katherine, leaning slightly over the edge of the oval table. On one side, a chair pushed back, and on the other, her spymaster.

Dorothy threw a glance over her shoulder. Only then did Freyza see how short her hair was cropped, just below her ears. ‘And that makes my colleague just Richard.’

Freyza smiled ear to ear, then signalled to Iskander. ‘I’m not kidding when I say this is just Iskander, my lady,’ he said.

She noticed how his knees were buckling from the weight of the parcels in his hands. ‘Oh, do come in,’ she said. ‘Both of you.’

He did not want to. Dorothy was kind, and her demeanour repelled him, for he was expecting the stiff dealings with the sultan, where he was primed by half a dozen emissaries before he could even conceive of seeing the sultan in the flesh. Here, he had to work to keep himself from making eye contact with the Queen of Ilworth and Otterdon Island. Though he was reluctant to do so, he entered swiftly, his hands behind his back, and bowed, keeping his eyes on his feet for fear of them wandering.

‘You may look up,’ Katherine ordered, perhaps a bit of giddiness in her voice. ‘No need to appear humble — I’ve heard the tales.’

There it was: the moment he had been dreading. He looked up at once and right into her eyes, and from the sheer anticipation of it, thought he would vomit or faint or be controlled at once by reverence or lust or another strange emotion that had never overcome him before. The tales spun into legends, the legends that surely would spin into legacy, then the yarn spun from legacy woven into the fine silk from which Queen Katherine was fashioned. A split second passed: Freyza realised he was only looking at a young woman, and not the myth of one.

‘Your Majesty,’ he said. ‘What an honour to be in your presence on this fine day. I come bearing gifts from the Sultan and myself.’

Once the initial disappointment of being faced with a mortal woman, rather than a woven satin spun from legacy that forced his mind into subjugation, had worn off, another quieter impression began to brew. She had the face of a Ginefort: narrow, delicate, small in each direction. The sort of olive green eyes, nearing grey, that he found fascinating, especially against her rosewood eyelashes. Her red hair was demurely suggested underneath the blue veil pinned artfully against it. She had on a rather simple outfit of madder-dyed wool, and as if to prove the point of her humanity, was wine-stained.

‘Gifts,’ she echoed happily, and sat down. ‘I love gifts, Master Freyza. It’s unfair how much this will sway the proceedings. That’s why I brought Richard and Dorothy. My eyes and my purse, respectively.’

Freyza and Katherine shared a laugh, and the former terrified himself when it dawned on him that he was laughing with the Queen of Ilworth, who appeared more like the well-mannered and charismatic slaves of important Sbaian politicians, than she did any head of state he had met. The sort he had sold them, trained by himself and his subordinates to bring smiles to any face, so that their owner may go through life seeing only kind faces. He wondered how Katherine had picked up the ancient art of female mysticism and charm in a convent. and had to cease his thoughts before they brought him to the feared subjugation he had initially warded off so well.

‘Your Majesty, I am surprised by your candour,’ he said, as he gestured Iskander to come forward with the chest.

Her eyes shot between Iskander, bowing by her feet after placing the chest before him, and Freyza, leaning expectantly over the lacquered wooden table.

‘That’s because Lord Overleigh couldn’t make it,’ she said, and winked at Richard. ‘I try to enjoy my occupation, my lord. Today should be a joyous occasion. I am receiving a gift from the sultan, we are planning to agree to a deal that will enrich us both. You’ve met me, I’ve met you. Joyous. We’ve plenty of time to be gloomy. May I?’

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‘Certainly, my lady,’ Freyza said, chuckling as he was surprised to be asked at all.

‘Master Freyza,’ she said again, unhooking the clasp of the chest on the floor, ‘I’ve heard of your people. You really don’t have any wine in the Sbai Empire?’

A pleased grin danced on his mouth. ‘No wine… I don’t believe there is a place on earth with no wine,’ he said. ‘The law forbids it. But the law forbids many things, and the eyes of its enforcement do not reach in every cup and each harem.’

From the odd look in her eyes and the surge of interest, Freyza gathered that the queen opposite him may have not been sober. She swivelled the top of the chest up and focused on its interior.

She began to chuckle. ‘Richard,’ she said.

Richard looked over her shoulder and began to laugh along. ‘I’ll be gentle with these,’ he said. ‘I swear.’

She hoisted up one of the vials: elegant blood-red vials with engraved florals decorating their glass. With great care, she twisted the cork off and smelled the end of it that had been on in the inside of the vial.

‘These are made by the Sultan’s perfumers, from the fairest floral arrangements,’ Freyza explained. ‘I have always had a great fascination for the craft. Thousands of jasmine flowers, roses and peonies are plucked for this modest selection. The Sultan extends his gratitude to Ilworth as a nation, and hopefully to the agreement to come.’

‘I will have to write him my thanks. What a marvellous choice — especially after I came to learn a much more striking perfume vial had been unjustly confiscated from me. Pleased to know the Sultan holds me in such high regard. And yourself?’ she asked. ‘I swore you’d said something about your own gift.’

Freyza sat back in his chair, meaning to bask in the glory of being so beloved, if only for a second, by Katherine.

‘I hold you in extremely high regard,’ he said. ‘If such is your query.’

The truth of the matter was that while Freyza was being pulled into Katherine’s orbit, which was an inevitability of their meeting, Katherine was gazing with great fascination up at the imaginary sky where she saw a wondrously bright new planet orbit her. Pleased to be in good company, she huffed playfully. ‘So?’ she asked.

‘So of course I’ve come prepared, Lady Katherine,’ he answered. Iskander handed him a small, cloth-wrapped parcel, which he handed forth to Katherine, who scanned the shape and weight for any resemblance to objects she knew.

When nothing came to mind, she began unwrapping the soft wool that it was packaged in for safekeeping, and with each revolution of the growing length of fabric off of the gift, Freyza began to worry that it had less grandeur. Many things came to mind. Had she wanted a bolt of fabric, a book of translated epics?

It was a dagger with a blue and purple-dyed leather hilt, and a scabbard of silver with gold filigree. Elegantly narrow with Sbaian motifs to decorate it, the base of the blade had a subtle engraving. Each detail appeared considered and personalised.

What a relief it was for Freyza to see her smile once more. ‘What a gorgeous little thing,’ she said, captivated by the narrowness of the blade. ‘You need to tell me what it says, Master Freyza.’

‘Your house’s motto in Sbaian,’ he said, ‘Fearless in God’s light and justice.’

‘Wonderful,’ she said. ‘I will be sure to treasure it.’

The pair of advisers, one to each side of hers, appeared restless, knowing how much Katherine could be swayed with a trunk full of perfume and a pointy dagger in a sleek scabbard. Dorothy butted in by scraping her throat. ‘I do wonder to what we owe your generosity. Archduchess Eleanor had only received word from you, no gifts or pleasantries. And it concerns the same tin — Neuhausen and Ilworth have treaties to that effect.’

‘I live in Souchon Palace by the grace of Her Majesty’s future mother-in-law, which makes her the kin of my liege. Lady Eleanor shares a splendour with her sister the queen, but I believe gifts extended with letters instead of by one’s own hand, are given cold. May she arrive to Souchon Palace or I to House Zuyleburg, you shall see I will treat her authority and grace the same, relative to Her Highness’ character and prestige.’

Richard perked up. ‘Are you headed to Zuyleburg, then? For otherwise, none of this meant a thing. I’m not sure it would mean anything if you were.’

Freyza huffed. ‘I have no need to cross the border if this goes well, Lord Richard. Sultan Selim demands me to speak with you, and naturally, I do. His gifts to Queen Katherine are absolutely not mean to insult Archduchess Eleanor, even if they are sisters and likely to correspond. What he does, small-minded men such as myself will not be able to understand regardless. And a personal gift should not have to be excused, in my humble opinion.’

He immediately recognised the sensitivity of his remark. Eleanor was the Archduchess of Neuhausen, to Massouron’s north, the newly minted wife of Archduke George, and Katherine’s baby sister. The history of Neuhausen was an intriguing one. A rowdy city-state once under Ilworthian rule, some three-hundred years ago, which declared itself independent and subsequently elected their ruler. Thus the office of Archduke of Neuhausen was born. Elections were rudimentary, and each time, fewer men were allowed to cast their vote, until the high-and-mighty intellectual idea of a democratic process borrowed from the ancients developed into the outdated, medieval kingdom election, where prince-electors were selected based on heritage.

It only took the Ilworthian royal family a couple of agreements and marriages to have each prince-elector speak native Ilworthian. Now, the most recent archduke had married a princess. The border that Neuhausen and Massouron shared was considered a testy subject, at least until Prince Henry and Queen Katherine tied the knot.

The advisers were silent and Katherine was admiring the craftsmanship of the gift she had just received. ‘The most recent price of a bale of tin was fifteen-hundred akçe. Roughly sixteen-hundred grams of silver, which, converted to gold sovereigns, would be sixteen sovereigns,’ Freyza said, hoping this would further the negotiation into the territory of a real agreement.

Katherine looked to Dorothy, whose eyes were narrowed. ‘We’re not selling in silver coin,’ she said. ‘Sixteen sovereigns per bale is fine, if by a bale you mean roughly a hundred pounds — I take it you won’t need a bale. What could you possibly need it for? And if you wish less than a bale, the price goes up.’

Freyza looked down and shook his head. ‘I’ll need about eight bales for the next imperial palace. Bronze on everything, ceremonial armours, tableware, mirrors, roofing, fixtures… after that, indeed, I believe our spend will reduce to below a bale per quarter.’

Richard had been looking at Dorothy as she listened, and noticed her eyes widen and mouth nearly fall open. When the meeting commenced, there had been no awareness of the fact that Freyza was not a petty salesman in need of an ingot for a couple of forks, but instead willing to supplement the royal purse considerably. Was this what the Baradrans were earning from these southerners?

‘I, uh…’ she began to babble, ‘I’ll have to, erm, I’ll have to see if it can be acquired. Sixteen akçe, I mean, sixteen sovereigns per pound… times eight, Master Freyza, hundred-twenty-eight…’

Dorothy did not recall the last time the Ilworthians had built a castle, much less one that needed eight bales of tin to work into decorations and roofing.

‘That should be a fine arrangement,’ he said. ‘I’ll be sure to contact the Sword of the Treasury back home to see on what term it will be required precisely. Then, of course, he will send in the payment. I imagine you’d rather have it in gold than goods, no? Though an exchange rate could be more favourable in goods.’

‘No,’ she decided before Katherine could argue for payment in wine and perfume, ‘Gold, my lord.’

‘Totally understandable,’ he said, nodded, and stood up. ‘My lord Richard, lady Dorothy. Your Majesty.’

The advisers followed, Katherine standing up last but somehow skipping past Richard towards the Sbaian. They said their goodbyes, and Freyza and Iskander left again. As they walked through the hallway back into the main part of the castle, Freyza felt somewhat giddy. He imagined it would be a large deal for them, but to have the treasurer stumbling over her words, and to have the queen enthralled by a simple silver dagger… he could not wait to write home with the news.

He wondered what else he could purchase from them, as if he was a child seeking a gold coin to waste gambling in a card game. How many could he pour into this mechanism to see the Ilworthians light up with economic fortitude once more? And most importantly, how many more would it take to once more be blessed by the presence of that charming young lady?