In the past three years, sales of pine and beech wood had increased nearly tenfold. All across the Empire, little girls were growing up wearing crowns of mallows on their heads, playing at being Empress. They would carry wooden horses in their pockets and knight their brothers with sticks they found in the wood. “I am the rising sun of Aros,” they would say, mimicking the words of the Empress. “Give to me your fealty and it shall be returned to you in prosperity.”

The manufacture of wooden toys, horses in particular, had therefore become a profitable business, even when the increase in taxes had lowered the margins.

The breeding of blue roans, too, had seen exponential growth, with the dark patterned horses eclipsing all others in popularity. To have one in one’s stables was seen as a sign of prestige, and no household of repute was complete without at least a few of the creatures.

The price of blue dye had risen steeply, due to ever-increasing demand, and blue-dyed fabrics had become so costly that only the wealthiest of merchants could afford it. For a time, blue silk had become so highly coveted that the purchase of a warhorse was more economical than a bolt of the stuff, and even nobles had difficulty in procuring enough to fashion so much as a veil.

Blue was, after all, the Empress’s favorite color, and to wear it was to appear regal, powerful, enviable.

Every girl from the the Ipsan Peninsula in the south to the Zauberwald in the north wanted, in some way or another, to emulate the Empress—every girl, of course, save Mouse—and in this way, the Empress had had a significant impact on the economy of certain trades and on the Arosian economy as a whole, simply by virtue of being born a woman.

It was a fact that was lost on men like the General, men who thought the only path to prosperity was through conquest. But a few fragile egos were not enough to undo the truth of the matter.

In addition to her other contributions, the Empress’s love of wine, red Arosian wine in particular, meant that more land was being devoted to the cultivation of vineyards than ever before; meanwhile, sweet white wines typical of the country’s northern regions were growing in popularity abroad. Even if it was not the Empress’s preferred variety, any Arosian wine that could be gotten was considered to be among the best.

She had maintained a century-old accord with the Chatti, swearing to keep them as a protectorate, and honored her father’s promise to help them strengthen their borders and rebuild after their shores had been ravaged by sea-faring invaders. And to better this, she had sent soldiers north, knights and men-at-arms, to instruct the Chatti in modern combat in the hopes that they would be able to defend themselves.

Smithies had been sent to promote weapons manufacture, and armorers had taken Chatti apprentices. And for the services rendered by the crown, the Chatti had paid in salt. Mountains of it were sent south, enough so that the rest of the Empire could choose either to close their mines for a time or sell what they mined to neighboring nations.

However, there remained many who were critical of the Empire’s interference in the Chatti lands and what they perceived to be the over-generosity of the crown. Soldiers were expensive, after all, and knights even more so. And with each passing year, the number of skilled laborers was falling while the demand for their services was increasing.

The red finger had claimed a significant portion of the population, taking first the young and the old before coming back and taking even young men like the Emperor. And though numbers were gradually recovering, it would be a long, slow process before the population of Aros returned to what it had been.

As a result, working men were in higher demand than ever, giving laborers more power than the upper classes were accustomed to them having, and consequently, they had begun to negotiate higher wages.

Add to this the growing number of yearly feasts and tournaments, the number of foreign nobles being housed at Kriftel, and the lands being bought up and given as gifts to the feal, and it was not difficult to see how the crown was like to soon outspend its purse.

If she was not careful, the Empress would put the Empire in debt, and in doing so, give men like General Ralist due cause to rally against her and spread more liberally the kind of vitriol he was already want to speak in private.

Mouse stared down into her murky cup of wine, turning it in her hand and watching the sediment rise from the bottom. She lifted the cup to her lips, grimacing at the sour taste of the drink as it coated her teeth.

This was not Arosian wine, it was Vejlish, the kind watered down and given to soldiers. It was cheaply made and cheaply purchased, making it accessible to the lower classes, but with Vejle now on the brink of civil war, the purchase of anything produced there, wine or otherwise, had been prohibited.

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This wine had likely been poured from old stores, purchased in bulk before the prohibition, but given the General’s arrogance and his blatant disregard for the authority of the crown, Mouse would not be surprised to learn that it had been procured more recently than the law would allow.

After telling the Empress about Sir Hugo, Mouse had been somewhat surprised to learn that he was not the only of Her Majesty’s knights to be in residence at Pothes Mar. In fact, there seemed to be a pattern of men being siphoned away from the Empress’s service, passing through Pothes Mar on their way home from the Chatti lands only to be told that their service was no longer required in the capital.

It was a treachery that might have demanded the General’s death, had his guilt been adequately proven; however, the Empress had chosen another form of punishment.

Armed with the knowledge of Sir Conrad’s request in regard to little Leopold, the Empress had decided to instead take with her to court Bertram, the General’s oldest son. Not only would the General’s heir serve as a hostage to keep his father from enacting further incursions upon the crown, but in removing the boy from the General’s influence, the Empress would better be able to shape his ideals and proclivities as the next Lord of Pothes Mar.

It was a clever scheme, thought Mouse, and the General certainly deserved no less. But she did wonder what would become of little Leopold once his brother had gone. Would he take the boy’s place as his father’s favorite, or would he be cast aside, banished to live in shadows so long they stretched all the way from Kriftel to Pothes Mar?

Mouse brought the wine once again to her lips, the bitter taste of it lingering in her mouth just as the rancorous thoughts began to circle her mind.

Why should one brother have all his father’s love and the other take only what was left? Why should the convenience of the elder’s birth make him superior to the younger?

Mouse had tried not to think of the golden chain of mallows that Ludger had given her, of the story he had told her of Lothar’s daughter, hidden in plain sight. But now, for some reason, she found it difficult to think of anything else.

Mouse tried to bury her thoughts under more wine, but with each sip of the stuff, she found the sullen sense of anger that had gripped her growing ever stronger.

With her head beginning to ache, she turned to speak to Lady Agatha in an attempt to distract herself in conversation. But the girl was too busy whispering and laughing with Lady Signy, sending her smiles to the knights who sat around the lower tables.

At last, the supper was ended and the party broken up. Mouse picked up her cup and drained it, shuddering as the last of the acrid wine slid down her throat.

She followed the Empress down the hall toward her chambers, stopping only momentarily at a window to search the sky for the moon, before continuing dutifully on.

Upon entering her chambers, the Empress threw herself down into a blue embroidered chair that stood across from a dark cherrywood table and waited for Mouse to unclasp her jewelry and brush out her hair. Though the table belonged to Pothes Mar, the chair had undoubtedly been brought from Kriftel. It was a luxury such that few could afford, but the Empress did not like to go without her comforts.

“Disgusting pig of a man,” she muttered as Mouse unfastened her necklace, placing it gently upon the table. “He is lucky he does not spend the next several weeks contemplating the silty bottom of the Yar.” Mouse remained silent, focusing on her work to distract from the pressure gathering in her temples. One by one she began pulling the pins from the Empress’s hair before taking up an ivory comb which she began to work through the ends of the woman’s long, dark tresses.

Mouse looked into the glass at the Empress’s dark countenance. She had had too much to drink, and her expression had become vacant and glassy.

“He cannot be satisfied with what he has been given,” the Empress continued bitterly. “No, he must take and take and take.” Her eyes found Mouse’s in the glass for a moment. “Did he really think I would not know my own men?”

Mouse changed the comb for a soft-bristled brush of polished brass that she pulled gently over the Empress’s hair.

“He thinks me a fool,” the woman said in a low, sardonic voice. “But he is the fool to think his treachery would go unpunished.” She pushed the brush away and stood, nearly knocking the chair over as she did, and raised her arms so that Mouse might undress her.

Mouse set about the fastenings, quickly and deftly, before tugging gently at the dress and pulling it carefully over the Empress’s head.

“What is it to rule over such pride and petulance?” the Empress scoff as Mouse folded down the blankets of the bed. “What is it to wear the crown when those who purport to serve you seek only to serve themselves?” Mouse waited for the Empress to climb atop the feathers and settle herself among her pillows before folding the blankets up over her. She knew no answer was expected of her, so she only stood quietly by the bed, awaiting the Empress’s command.

Mouse had always thought of her resemblance to the Empress as a kind of punishment, an erasure of her own self.

But she had been allowed to forget this from time to time, in the stolen moments of happiness and beauty, when she hid in the kitchen with Pritna drinking poor man’s ale that tasted better than any wine she’d ever known, or when she laid by the edge of the pond with the lazy blue Peticru resting his head upon her lap as she stroked his neck.

And now, such moments could be found each time she picked up a bow with her left hand rather than her right, or when she held the little archer the Foilunder had carved for her, tracing the lines etched into it with her thumb, as she watched the Cherith birds gather in the courtyard.

They were small things, but they were hers, and in them, she was reminded of herself.

But what did the Empress have?

“Ring for some tea, Mouse,” the Empress said, leaning her head back onto the pillows and closing her eyes. “I cannot sleep until I have had some tea.” Mouse crossed the room, but there was no rope to tug on. So instead, she waited a few moments until she was certain that the Empress had fallen asleep before walking over to the bed. She listened to the Emprss’s gentle snores as she climbed under the covers next to her.

She did not like that the woman should sleep alone.