Contrary to popular belief, William’s mother didn’t actually spend every hour of every day inside her office. Despite the presence of his many aunts, he knew that the head of the Ashfield family spent much of her time riding about the county seeing to many of the issues that might require her attention as the head of a small territory.
Admittedly, a great many of those issues involved long debates over the minutiae of property lines or livestock ownership. However, given those details were of some real importance to the farmers to whom the aforementioned items belonged, William was of the opinion that it spoke well of his progenitor that she felt the need to show personal interest in them.
He knew for his own part, he’d been somewhat… lax on the subject in his own brief time as head of Redwater county. In his defense, Xela Tern was much better suited to the task of seeing to the needs of the nearby farms than he’d ever be, but the fact remained that as an actual landlord, his own efforts could best be described as… distant.
After a few moments thought on the subject, he realized he didn’t actually know the names of the many villages surrounding the newly renamed town of Redwater. Which wasn’t exactly an ideal state of affairs for any lord. Though, given that he saw the territory itself as little more than a convenient vehicle for weapon production, it wasn’t entirely unexpected.
He shook his head at the thought, as he momentarily wondered if Marline’s words on the subject of his ‘harrowed’ mindset had some truth? He’d long thought that he’d gotten lucky in how he’d come to be ‘born’ into this world – but now he was being forced to consider whether or not such fortune had come with drawbacks of a less obvious nature.
Fortunately he was saved from any lengthy kind of rumination on the topic by the arrival of his mother, as Aunt Sophina – who had been content to spend the intervening half hour between him calling and his mother arriving in stony silence – moved aside to let the Ashfield matriarch slide into view.
“Well,” Janet said as wiped an errant lock of hair from her eyes, a move that suggested she’d rode at some speed back to the estate. “I hope this is important William. Because as much as I’d like to thank you for pulling me away from the council of little old ladies, I’ll be forced to make it up to them with another meeting later. And they’ll have even more to argue about by the time that rolls around.”
“Ah, I assume they haven’t mellowed any in the time since I left?” William asked as he vacantly recalled his mother’s many complaints about the ‘council of landowners’ that served to represent the many farms and villages around Ashfield territory.
“Not in the slightest. And they’re worse than usual given it’s now the tail end of winter.” She shrugged. “As a lord yourself now, I’m sure you know how it is.”
He struggled not to wince as he realized he didn’t. The closest he’d come to meeting the local landowners of his territory had been when they’d shown up in support of Xela on his arrival at Redwater.
Since then, his dealings with them had been entirely through the wood elf herself.
Which wasn’t exactly great. If anything, the reminder of just how much he’d effectively shoveled onto Xela’s plate did have him make a mental note to follow up on her. Last they spoke she’d made a request to hire on some of her old war-buddies to act as additional trainers for the plebian pilot cadre he was starting up. A request he’d granted, along with the funds to follow through, but he’d heard nothing on the topic since.
And given it had been two weeks since he’d come back to the academy, said training program should have started by now.
“Still, as I said, we’re both busy,” his mother continued. “If anything, I know from my own memories of the academy that your time is probably more precious than mine at the minute. So much so that your willingness to spend thirty minutes waiting for my arrival is a cause for some concern. If the topic wasn’t urgent, I’d have expected you to leave a message or set a time to call back on a later date.”
Well, she wasn’t wrong. Say what one would about his mother and her almost blind ambition, she could be fairly quick on the uptake when she chose to be. More to the point, she was entirely correct. If Marline hadn’t insisted on taking the team’s laundry off him, he wouldn’t have had time to make this call.
Which was a fairly absurd consideration for a conversation that might well shape the future of the nation, but that was Academy life. At least, on those occasions in which he couldn’t call upon Griffith to grant him an exemption. Of which this most definitely was, given he was in a rather explicit way currently engaged in an act of treason.
“Well, I suppose I’ll just come out and say it.” He took a breath. “The Queen is aware of Olivia’s secret heritage and, as a result, what her engagement to a Blackstone male would mean for the future of Lindholm. Needless to say, she has zero intention of letting said betrothal come to pass.”
Well, it was done now. Given orb calls were monitored by the Queen’s people, he figured he had until the end of the call, plus thirty minutes for it to filter up through the chain of command, until Griffith or someone else in Yelena’s employ was dispatched to ask him ‘what the hell?’.
Fortunately, he had a plan for that, but prior to that coming to pass he fully intended to get his money’s worth for shoving his neck onto the chopping block – by getting his moronic younger sibling off of it.
“She… what!?” His mother breathed after moving through a number of expressions.
Surprise. Anger. Disgust. Dread. Resignation.
It really was a rather amusing tapestry, one he might have felt guilty for enjoying if it weren’t for the fact that his mother had most certainly brought it all upon herself. What little filial piety he’d managed to cultivate in his time in this world did little to mitigate the schadenfreude he was currently feeling.
“You,” she finally breathed, eyes narrowing as she glared at him through the orb.
“No, actually. Though I can fully understand why you might think that,” he said as he reclined in his seat.
“Then how?” Janet spoke through gritted teeth.
He shrugged. “Our dear queen might have been blindsided by the Blackstone-New Haven Alliance, but that doesn’t make her incompetent. Merely fallible. And the merely fallible have plenty of ways of ferreting out information once a situation has been brought to their attention.”
“Brought to their attention?”
“That’s guesswork on my part. It’s not like I have the woman’s ear in any real capacity,” he lied. “I only became aware of her discovery of your little conspiracy when one of her agents called me aside to ask a series of rather leading questions on what I might know. From there, it wasn’t hard to guess at her intentions.”
“And what did you tell them?” she asked with narrowed eyes.
“Nothing,” he scoffed. “Not that it matters. They clearly already know. Questioning me was simply good spy-craft. Further confirmation and all that. Indeed, I’d say they were probably sniffing around less to learn about you and more to see if I was involved in any way.”
He grinned. “Fortunately, given my actions last year and my other work on the Crown’s behalf, it’s pretty clear that I’m not.”
Janet chewed her lip. “If not through you, then how else could the Queen have found out about our plans?”
He rolled his eyes. “Honestly mother, the Queen is clearly not without means of her own, means she clearly saw fit to employ once you made it clear something was going on behind the scenes at our estate. Well, you and the Blackstones.”
“Me!?” Janet hissed.
“And the Blackstones,” he said dryly. “Firstly by refusing to drop the engagement when I did just about everything I could to publicly shame my fiancée short of dropping my pants and servicing half the mess hall.”
Again, he felt his lips quirk up in amusement as his mother winced at the image. Strained relationship or not, no mother wanted that image fluttering across their imagination.
He coughed before he continued. “Certainly, everyone knows that the Blackstones prefer to keep their bloodline human only, and males of the right age and breeding don’t exactly grow on trees, but there’s an upper limit to what that means they should be willing to tolerate.”
Limits he’d well and truly cost by snubbing Tala at every opportunity.
“Especially from a countship,” he added. “I imagine that was the moment when the Queen might have begun to wonder if there was perhaps a reason why her sworn enemies would be so willing to hang onto a marriage with a frankly tiny house deep in the territory of their supposed enemies.”
Rather than immediately refute his point, his mother hesitated, no doubt thinking over every communication she’d had with the Blackstones since he’d started attending the academy – and which of them might have been intercepted if the Queen truly had developed an interest in what might be being said.
Given the way she sagged, he imagined there were quite a few. Which wasn’t unexpected. Like most conspiracies, its main defense was in that no one but those involved knew about it.
Though it was interesting to note that his mother truly did seem ignorant of the Queen’s invisible agents. Which the Blackstones clearly weren’t. Otherwise they’d all be dead by now.
Was it pure paranoia that kept the ducal house from informing his own of the crown’s capabilities? If so, it seemed shortsighted. Indeed, given the only other reason he could think of for the Blackstone’s remain quiet on the particular capability was if the Blackstones themselves had something similar.
Which was horrifying for all sorts of reasons.
“More to the point,” he continued. “When said marriage fell through, you didn’t immediately attempt to ingratiate yourself with me and the crown through me. Nor did you seek out potential matches, and thus alliances, through Olivia. Indeed, you’ve actively rejected what few have been offered. For a woman with but one heir, no allies and the ire of at least two major powers, that would strike even the most inobservant of onlookers as peculiar.”
His mother scoffed, though there was no heat to it. “A minor house going quiet until a major scandal blows over is hardly new. And Olivia still won’t be of marriageable age for five more years.”
He inclined his head. “Marriage. Betrothal. The difference is minor but for the topic of the law. To that end, perhaps your decision to lie low might explain an unwillingness to seek out marriage offers. It doesn’t serve to explain why you’d be rejecting those that came to you.”
From what he’d garnered from Griffith – and through her the Queen’s people – it wasn’t like the offers being extended to his mother were bad, considering the circumstances. If anything, one had been quite good. Another countship to be certain, but an affluent one that would have opened up new markets for Ashfield County.
“And Olivia’s parentage?”
This time it was his turn to scoff. “The rite of Droit du Vassal is common enough. Given the timescale, it wouldn’t be hard for our monarch to guess where you might have sourced the elven half of my sister’s blood.”
His mother colored a bit at that. After all, just because it was the ‘done’ thing when a woman needed a magically capable heir didn’t mean she wanted to explicitly discuss it with her son. Nor did William particularly want to dwell on how his mother had likely gone on bent knee to request a ‘night’ with their liege lady’s then living husband.
“Well,” the woman said, finally straightening up. “Whatever our Queen might believe she knows about your sister’s future marriage plans, the fact remains that this isn’t the Elven Imperium. Olivia had the blood claim to push for her rightful position as the duchess of Summerfield, and though they may not have the Queen’s good favor at this point in time, there’s no law against a betrothal to House Blackstone.”
William nodded. “That is true, and by the letter of the law, Olivia is perfectly safe. But we both know that what is likely to occur to Olivia if the Queen feels she is a threat to her position as monarch will have nothing to do with legality.”
Janet paled, her momentary bluster pierced like a balloon.
“And,” he continued. “If you’re thinking of having my sister ‘foster’ in the safety of the North, I’d recommend against it. Doing so will likely only hasten an outcome we both want to avoid.”
“…I’d not be quiet. I’d make it known to every House in the land that she murdered my baby girl,” his mother hissed. “The Blackstones wouldn’t even need to storm the capital. The other houses would do it for them.”
Willaim rolled his eyes. “Don’t be obtuse, mother. Words are as wind and I doubt the Queen’s agents would be so sloppy as to leave evidence of their misdeeds by acting openly. Pirates. Bandits. Even a rogue dragon. The list of tools available to them are as myriad as the houses that have employed those self-same techniques throughout time.”
Attacks of the kind he described happened every other week as nobles great and small played the great game amongst themselves - and he’d bet as few as one in three were legitimately what they portrayed themselves to be.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
His mother knew that. He knew she knew that because of the way she slumped in her seat.
“So…” she asked, defeated. “…what you mean to tell me is that regardless of what I do, my daughter is doomed? Entirely as a result of my unchecked ambition?” She laughed, a hollow humorless sound. “To that end, is this call a form of commiseration or gloating?”
William didn’t even bother to respond to the barb. After all, it wasn’t untrue. And he was not so pure of heart that he didn’t feel some degree of sadistic pleasure at seeing his mother feel some degree of consequence for her reckless ambition. Ambition borne of opportunity and the perceived altruism of allowing a coming civil war to be reduced to a relatively bloodless coup, but ambition all the same.
“Neither, I’d remind you that I’m taking a rather considerable risk myself by informing you of this. I figure I’ve got maybe half an hour after this call ends before I’ll have the Queens agents barging down my door.”
This time it was a considerably more complicated feeling that flashed through his chest as his mother paled once more at that reminder.
Before she could open her mouth to say… something, he interrupted.
“I’ll be fine. Focus on Olivia. You seem rather certain she’s doomed,” he said. “Couldn’t that be avoided by simply calling off her secret betrothal and accepting another?”
Of course, he already knew the answer, but there was a script to be followed here – even if only one of the actors present was aware of it and the other was mildly surprised to find it was being followed regardless.
Slowly recovering from the now realized possibility that she might lose both of her children, Janet took a moment before she straightened up, analytical mind at work as she shunted her feelings to the side.
“No. Now the Queen’s aware of the threat Olivia represents, she can’t afford to leave her as a loose end.” She winced. “More to the point, she’d never trust me to honor my word on the matter, even if I arranged another betrothal. There’s always a chance I’d go back on it.”
“Even with me as a hostage?” he asked. “My territory is barely a few miles from the capital and I’ll be attending the Academy for the next few years.”
His mother winced again. “No, our… antipathy is too well known at this point. Yelena wouldn’t risk the possibility that I’d consider a ducal seat worth the… loss of a son.”
Went unsaid was the very real possibility that that was the case. Admittedly, it likely hadn’t been true prior to last year, but his continuous ‘acting out’ against the family had put a considerable strain on their already distant relationship.
William knew that, from the perspective of his family, he was, in a very real way, the dog that kept biting the hand that fed it. Of course, it didn’t much matter that from his perspective he was biting because said hand was feeding him bullshit. All that mattered was that he was going against the family’s interests.
“A geass?” he suggested.
She laughed. “I’m the matriarch of a countship at peace, with a strong core of law-sisters behind me. The loss of my magic would be inconvenient, but something I could easily survive.”
William had figured as much. “Then what if you were to place Olivia in the care of one of the Queen’s allies? Foster her with them, as you were about to do the Blackstones?”
She considered it reluctantly. “And leave her in the hands of the very person threatening her life? I’d not put it past the woman to have her removed anyway to be on the safe side.”
William could see why his mother might think that. She had no idea how much sway his opinion held with Yelena, given that most of his ‘advancements’ were being kept under wraps or attributed to others. No, Yelena wouldn’t kill his sister unless she had no other option, because doing so would guarantee the end of his loyalty to her.
Unfortunately, he doubted his mother would be willing to believe him if he suddenly said as much. Mostly because it sounded like the sort of thing an older man might say to ply a young woman back on Earth. The usual claims of her being special, unique and worth being listened to.
Fortunately, he had no intention of going down that route.
“Not entirely true,” he said slowly. “There is one ally of the Queen who is both guaranteed not to be party to your conspiracy and would never hurt a hair on Olivia’s head.”
Janet’s features creased in thought. “Who?”
“I’d have thought it obvious,” he said. “Me.”
It was amusing, the number of emotions that flitted across his mother’s face.
“I…” she started to say, before she paused in genuine consideration. “Swear.” She spoke slowly, staring down at him. “Regardless of the wrongs our House has done to you. Regardless of the role Olivia unwittingly played in them. Swear to me as her brother that you will keep her safe.”
He resisted the urge to snort in derision at the rank hypocrisy of it.
Fortunately for his family, while his sister might have been a fairly naïve bloodthirsty little brat, she was one of the only beings on this planet whom he loved unconditionally.
Nothing was going to change that.
“On my life,” he said.
Janet continued to stare at him for a few more moments before sagging.
“Great, now I just have to convince the rest of the family that not only is the jig up, but that the only safe place on the continent for the heir to our family is in the care of the brother whose position she usurped.”
William had little sympathy.
“…I’d remind them that said brother has his own title now. Earned through his own merits. And as such has little need for Ashfield county.”
For the third time since their conversation began, Janet winced at the quiet venom in his tone. Still, she nodded.
“Aye, that might help,” she muttered.
William didn’t much care, just so long as she convinced his aunts. To that end, he reached over to cut the orb’s connection.
…And then just stared at it.
Holy shit, he thought. Did that just… work?
Sure, there was every possibility that Janet had just lied to him and she was currently scrambling to load Olivia into a Shard headed towards Blackstone territory, but he doubted it. Say what one would about his progenitor, while she was all too willing and capable of lying to the world at large, where her progeny was concerned she tended to be distressingly honest.
Indeed, despite the weave of bullshit he’d spun wholesale about arousing the Crown’s suspicions, the fact of the matter was that he’d have been utterly ignorant of the Ashfield-Blackstone Alliance’s revival if his mother hadn’t chosen to be honest with his blabber mouth of a sibling.
No, he had a feeling Olivia would be arriving at the Redwater estate within the week. Which would be… interesting. Because if she’d been pissed before, she’d be even moreso now.
Definitely worth having a sit down with her to explain the facts of life once she’s outside of our mother’s sphere of influence, he thought.
Still, those were back of the mind considerations. For the moment he was mostly just stunned that… he hadn’t had to fight an entire fleet. Or even murder anyone. He hadn’t even had to invent anything.
He’d just… talked.
And that was a possibility he hadn’t even considered prior to Marline bringing it up.
Was… was it really possible that he hadn’t gotten away with his harrowing as scot-free as he’d thought? Because, for the longest time, he’d believed himself lucky. Fortunate that the information he’d received from his patron was… compatible with the vessel it had been installed into.
Sure, said information was him as far as he was aware, but the fact remained that he’d considered it a case of the right software in the right hardware. Only now he was being forced to consider whether there were… bugs in the system.
Feedback loops.
Logic-gate errors.
Backwards compatibility issues.
George shook his head. It wasn’t worth dwelling on. He was fine. Marline was overthinking things. He’d just let his own personal biases regarding his home influence his thinking.
…Yeah, he was fine.
William stood up, stretching his arms above his head as he felt the kinks in his back pop agreeably. Perhaps part of him was a little disappointed that the whole situation had been resolved so easily – he’d been looking forward to unveiling some of his new toys – but this way he’d be able to save those surprises for the grand finale.
Stepping over to the door, he tapped the enchanted symbol near the handle to break the vacuum gap between the room and the outside world, allowing the sounds of the academy once more filtering through the walls and into the room.
Stepping out into the hall, he actually jumped a bit as he found himself face to face with two rather identical looking women.
Ok, identical is a bit of a stretch, he thought as he regarded the two.
Physically, yes, they shared all the same features, but it was clear both had put a little effort into differentiating themselves from the other. Which was hard to do in a military academy given the mandated uniforms, so their efforts had mostly been relegated to their hair.
The older twin – Clarice – had her hair down, shoulder length, with a notable pink streak running through the blonde. By contrast, the younger twin – Marcille – had chosen blue highlights at the tips of her hair, tying it up into a ponytail.
As visual language went, even William could tell what said clothing choices meant – not least of all because such dye-jobs would have required a permit from the Academy.
They were a pair of individuals who happened to be twins. Not to be treated as some monolithic singular entity. Indeed, that perspective was only reinforced by their positions as he came out of the room, the older standing prim and proper in the hallway, while the younger leaned up against the wall, arms crossed.
And as she drew herself up to stand, he noted that he’d been mistaken in his initial assessment of them being physically identical. It was subtle to be sure, but Marcille’s build seemed slightly more athletic than her older sibling.
The heir and the spare then. The former’s education was probably more administrative while the latter was more martial, he thought.
“William, right?” Clarice spoke gently, a wide smile slipping across the fourth year’s features. “Sorry to ambush you like this, but your friend told us you were looking to set up a meeting of some sort?”
Where Clarice’s tone was soft, her sibling was slightly more gruff, though not aggressively so. That just seemed to be her default tone. “And your other friend told us a few minutes ago where you’d be around now. Seemed it be easier to grab you now than when you’re being swamped at lunch.”
William smiled awkwardly a bit at the reminder. Yes, he’d certainly become popular since his return to the academy. And while that was beneficial in the long run, in the short term it had made it a little difficult for him to meet certain individuals who he wanted to speak with.
“Is that so,” he said slowly as realization dawned on him.
Said realization being that… did he actually need the twins anymore? He’d kind of just… resolved the issue which had given rise to his need for them. Rather anticlimactically at that.
…Did it really matter who won the Summerfield Ducal Seat at this point?
Of course it did!
The thought was like lightning through his brain.
Sure, he couldn’t fight the Blackstone fleet over the seat now, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t an opportunity here. An opportunity to both gain an ally and place them into a position of considerable power. All he had to do was help his chosen candidate beat out the other contenders – of which his sister now wasn’t.
Yes, having some allies for after the Blackstones were dealt with could only be useful.
Still, I better move fast, he thought. I’ve not got long before the Queen’s people show up. Probably with Griffith in tow.
To that end, it would probably be wise to move this conversation away from the scene of his most recent crime.
“Yes, yes I did,” he said, affecting his most innocent ‘young man’ smile. “I realize this is likely a bit forward of me, but I happen to be something of a budding engineer myself, and when one of my friends mentioned that my… well, it’s a little embarrassing to say it, but newfound popularity, might be able to garner me an opportunity to get a look at that fascinating new Shard House Whitemorrow had developed…”
He trailed off, as if embarrassed by his frank interest.
Fortunately for him, both girls clearly ate it right up. And wouldn’t they? On Earth this would be the equivalent of a girl fawning over a guy’s expensive new ride. More to the point, said girl happened to be a wealthy heiress with deep pockets of her own.
…Not to stretch the metaphor too hard.
“I think we can arrange that,” the older twin said. “There’s not much time left until lights out, but Marcille and I have an… arrangement with the academy guard. They won’t give us any trouble if we linger a bit.”
“Really?”
The younger twin grinned as she gestured down the hall. “Really. It won’t be a problem.”
William followed after the pair as they started walking in the direction of the hangars, as Marcille ‘casually’ struck up a conversation.
“With that said, as fancy as our Basilisk is, I think your ride pretty nearly blew him out of the water. I mean, showing up in a Shard you designed is one things, but not many of the cadets around here have the pull to arrive in their own cruiser.”
William scratched his neck bashfully. “Ah, my friends told me I should ‘go big or go home’. You don’t think it was too much do you?”
“Oh, not at all,” Clarice said, her shoulder ‘casually’ brushing against his as she walked alongside him, perfume wafting across his senses as she did. “Not at all. A new county like yours needs to be bold if it wants to garner the right sorts of people as allies. Other people with ambition, you know?”
William nodded along absently – even as most of his mind was on how Yelena was going to react when she found out about his ‘betrayal’.
Well, hopefully she’s in a good mood, he thought.
-----------------
Yelena sighed, sagging into her throne as the last member of the Lunite delegation stepped out of the room and out of sight. Thus the only witnesses left to her less than Queenly behavior were her guards, who’d seen much worse over the years.
Praise be to geass enforced loyalty, she thought as she stretched idly.
Standing up, she shook her head.
“Honestly, do they really think I’m just going to give-away the Kraken Slayer because of a few veiled threats?” she muttered quietly to herself.
The whole thing had just been a giant waste of time, made worse for the fact that it was basically just a repeat of the same ‘conversation’ she’d been forced to have with the Solites a few days ago.
Both nations had heard about the Kraken Slayer.
Both wanted it.
She’d die before she let that happen. And regardless of how difficult the North was being, she knew they’d stand with her to keep it from happening.
Ugh, all I want to do is get into the bath and have this day be over, she thought.
Fortunately, there was nothing left on the docket so provided there wasn’t some kind of emergency in the next few minutes, she figured she’d be…
And there’s the door opening. and that’s a very worried expression on Janna’s face, Yelena thought with quiet resignation as one of her hear clerks all-but flew into the room, determinedly striding in her monarch’s direction.
Well, whatever it is, hopefully it shouldn’t be too bad, she thought in a moment of rare hope.
----------------------------
Thupa winced a little as a dull roar echoed forth through the doors leading to the Queen’s throne room.
So uncivilized, the Lunite ambassador thought as she strode through the halls of the pretender-queen’s pitiful excuse for a palace.
Then again, what else could one expect from the half-breed leader of a rebel backwater? Albeit, a backwater with an irritating tendency to birth novel new ideas.
The Shard. The Bolt-Bow. Aluminum-Refinement, the dark elf thought as her bodyguards opened the door to her decidedly rustic quarters. And now a device capable of killing Krakens.
Each of them as crude and unrefined as the place that spawned them, but useful all the same – after refinement by more civilized hands.
Barely even sparing a glance at the two centurions, she stepped inside, hearing the door close behind her.
However, rather than finding her room just as she left it, she was both unsurprised and irritated to see a distinctive purple letter placed carefully on her desk.
And now I’ve gotten a visit from the fucking Frumeratii, she thought acidly. Likely to ask why I’ve yet to ‘acquire’ the Kraken Slayer for the Empire.
As if that was ever going to happen through anything other than the cannons of an invasion fleet. Something that was unlikely to happen so long as the damned colonials persisted in their suicidal strategy of intercepting reclamation fleets over open water. A stance that had likely only been reinforced by the fact that they could now actually recover said the cores of any such ships that happened to fall there.
Stepping over to the desk, she picked up the letter, noting the intact seal, before addressing the room at large. “I know you’re still here, would it kill you to simply announce yourself like a real person rather than play this cloak and shadow game?”
Predictably, the wolf-cloaked spy that was undoubtedly present somewhere in the room remained silent.
Thupa rolled her eyes.
The Empress’s personal agents were as fond of their theatrics as they were competent in their spy craft. A lesser woman might have been impressed by such, but the countess had long since grown inured to them.
Still, whatever irritation she might have felt at receiving a missive in such a manner, quickly started to fade away as she read through the contents of the report – and her new instructions.
Well, it seems the colonial’s habit of coming up with strange new ideas isn’t relegated only to the Southern parts of it, she thought with a smile as she incinerated the letter with a brief mantra. Must be something in the water out here.
She smirked at her little joke, even as she set about thinking about how best to fulfill her newest orders.