The coffers were empty, and Lavastro had nearly torn her teeth out trying to fix the fact.

Agonising hours of work, razored focus and miserable diligence had yielded little returns in her endeavours. She’d liquefied properties, slashed pay for staff of low priority, even seized command of security teams and simply requisitioned assets by force from more than a few of the wealthier inhabitants of Udrebam’s centre. None had been enough.

Reginald Tamaias’ death had wreaked hundreds of thousands of stars’ damage upon the city, every day the displaced refugees and wounded required thousands more to sustain. She’d soon whittled down the spare quarter-million left in the Sieve’s stores.

Lavastro had nothing left. She owned no property in Udrebam, the Taikan Empire itself had precious little. What few contacts might have been daunted, persuaded or manipulated by her had fled the city already, and, to her disgust, the remaining organisers kept a vice-tight fist around their own resources.

People would die by the thousand, dissent would spread and buildings would burn. Starvation, cold and rot would take the city until even its mystics were affected by the desperation. At best there would be riots, at worst Lavastro could imagine even the magical joining in an uprising.

It was all too clear that she would be in true danger if such a thing were to happen. The Sieve’s defences would be tested dearly by any great fraction of the mystics who called the city home, and Lavastro herself would doubtless be among their chief targets.

The foreigner. The Taik. The savage from across the ocean, heathen to the Teary Eyed Goddess and offspring of a Deity more hated than most. It would matter little how she worked to help them beforehand, the scent of blood left no room for such rationality.

Fear pricked at her as she worked, a sensation more familiar in recent days than Lavastro would ever admit. Not for the first time she cursed the crushing of Udrebam’s resonance tower.

Were it intact, she could send word to Taiklos. Her father would act swiftly. Spadai would fall upon the city in days, cast across the ocean as swiftly as House Vvardenc could engineer. Lavastro would be guarded from any rioters or assassins, guarded even from whatever man or creature slew Tamaias himself.

But the resonance tower was in ruin, and there would be no chance of repairing it. Lavastro forced herself to dismiss the wishful scenario.

No help would come to her for weeks, perhaps longer. She was alone in the city, defended only by a Wrathman magiphage. Her wits would have to make do in place of Spadai.

A knocking came to her door, welcome for the distraction it brought and well expected. Lavastro called out for the one responsible to enter.

Unison Mylif stood with his back soldier-straight as he did so, red eyes disconcerting as ever, tanned face seeming hard with the perpetual worry that struck so many in the Crux. Lavastro mustered all the strength she could spare for words as he waited in silence.

“Thank you for answering my request.” She began. His face was unmoved as he answered.

“I didn’t have much reason not to, we can’t afford to squabble like we could before.”

It took her a moment to realise the man spoke of all organisers, not merely the two of them personally. Lavastro found a smile begging entry to her mouth. Denied it.

“Agreed. And on the matter of our inability to afford things…”

She gestured to the ledgers before her.

“I trust you’re aware of the city’s… Condition?”

He said nothing. That irked Lavastro, silence was a weapon she preferred to wield herself.

“To be blunt, we need money.” She finished. “Lots of it. More, certainly, than I was given control over, more I think than any but you were. The treasury was yours to manage when our roles were determined, was it not?”

That got an answer from him, though not the one she’d have expected.

“It was.” Mylif said slowly. “And, I think, it is. But I’m not certain of what you’d use it for.”

His words sparked irritation.

“And what are you implying by that?” Lavastro snapped.

Again, Mylif retreaded into silence. An infuriating answer that gave her nothing to push against, leaving her to fall as she tried.

Lavastro calmed herself, forced her tongue clinical and cold where it was brutal and hot.

“You’re still thinking of our conversation after your brother’s last task.” She noted.

“The one where you said he was inferior to the rest of humanity because of how he was born.” Confirmed Mylif. Lavastro had to stifle a grimace, the man was clearly still wrapped in emotion. His reason would be muted, pragmatism choked.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“Yes, the one where we both agreed that human life has worth, for the most part at least, and that ending it is immoral.”

Mylif paused, and Lavastro laid a hand down on the ledgers.

“I didn’t call you here for another debate, as stimulating as our last was. I need the finances you were given control over, because if I don’t receive them this city will fall further yet into ruin, and innocent people will most assuredly die.”

He stared at her, and she stared back. Eyes of blood meeting eyes of gold, neither flinching, neither blinking, neither speaking. It was rare to find her glare matched in such a way, and Lavastro suddenly found herself noticing how handsome the man was.

His jaw was square, eyes sharp, broad shoulders making themselves known even through the loose fabric of his overshirt and leaving his stature unnoticeable. At any other time she might have enjoyed fucking him, it was regretful there would be no such chance.

“There’s an issue with your argument.” The Unixian said at last, gaze still enticingly intense. “I don’t trust you to do half of what you’re saying you will. Why would you want to lessen the damage to Udrebam when it’s one of the most vital cities in your own nation’s greatest rival?”

Irritation swiftly buried Lavastro’s lust. It was not entirely from being distrusted.

“I am not one to sit idle while people die.” She snapped. “Regardless of which nation they were unfortunate enough to be born beneath. Or do you think my last few sleepless nights and days of hard exertion were merely for enjoyment?”

Lavastro knew well enough the man had a point, her interests did not lie with keeping Unix strong. And yet still she found herself desperate for his aid. Still remembered the mangled bodies and blood-scented air. The contesting of empires seemed a small thing, somehow, compared to that.

Perhaps it was fortunate that her words had been the truth, however imperfect an endeavour they revealed her to be apart of.

“You expect me to believe you’re acting out of pure altruism?”

That gave her pause. Even Lavastro hadn’t been fool enough to hope that.

“My charity here will reflect well on Taiklos.” She answered, voice carefully clipped. “True good tends to spread better than propaganda ever can. This is not without gain to my nation.”

It was the very same rationalisation she’d tried to convince herself of, and Mylif seemed to accept it more readily than even her.

“And I was starting to wonder whether you were growing a heart.” He sneered.

The remark struck something in Lavastro she’d not thought to defend, and her words were spilling out quicker than sense could temper them.

“Heart makes for poor leaders, in my experience. Certainly the Paradisans of Arcane had no shortage of it as they subjugated the world.”

“Heart tells you what’s right and wrong.” Countered Mylif, voice cooler than hers, damn him. “There’s plenty of clinical, intelligent Immortals in the world, not a lot of them would be good leaders to live under.”

Lavastro had spoken the truth when she’d claimed not to search for further debate with the man, and yet she saw a challenge in his riposte. One too tantalising for her to resist.

“And those same Immortals would be made scarcely better with the addition of something so nebulous as heart. Altruism is what tempers intelligence, not passion, and you’ll find I have no shortage of that.”

“Good intentions were something the Paradisans had a lot of, as well.” The man answered dryly. Lavastro had to acknowledge the point.

“I’d argue that any intentions tempered by beliefs as dogmatic as those of the Solifates are compromised from the start.”

Lavastro often took delight in how her use of even the Alliance tongue could give a man pause, leaving them struggling to pin her words together while she rested and basked in their confusion. Unison Mylif was quicker than most, however, and he seemed only to halt so long as it took him to think of his answer.

“So you’d say the ideal leader is someone with good intentions, no overabundance of passion, enormous intellect and a void of any religion or other dogma. Is that right?”

It was her moment to pause, for Lavastro felt certain she smelled a trap in his question.

“I suppose that’s an accurate assessment.” She answered, still slow. Mylif’s victorious glint wasn’t lost on her.

“And how do you know which of those qualities someone possesses? How do you know which you possess? Because let me tell you now, our little chat left me pretty damned shaken to hear your little theories put into words. If you ask me, I’d say there’s no small amount of dogma there as well. And if you don’t ask me, if you don’t ask anybody but yourself, then how are you making sure the power really does rest where it should?”

She stared at him, wordless, and he stared at her, smug. Lavastro felt gears grind in her wits like they rarely had before, and suddenly all thought of time wasted and duties unfulfilled left her as she scrambled for an answer.

“I can’t know.” She said at last, admission paining her even as she voiced it. “I can only exercise my best judgement, as can anyone. But my best judgement is something I trust more than the average person’s.”

Unison Mylif remained silent at that, for a few moments. He had a peculiar note to his voice when he next spoke, almost mournful.

“And I’m worried that if you asked the average person how far they trust their own judgement, they’d give you the same answer.”

The point scored was a good one, but Lavastro realised, no matter how captivating their debate, that she’d not the time for it. Forcing her thoughts away from the matter, she reluctantly spoke again.

“This has gotten away from our initial topic, the truly important one. The Sieve’s coffers need to be used, and it was you who received control of them.”

He hesitated, seemed conflicted for all of a moment, then spoke again at last.

“You’re right.” Sighed the man, slumping as if the words took with them his strength. “I’m not going to let people die just because of our… personal disagreements. I’ll arrange further access to the Sieve’s wealth for you. But I’ll be having all your expenditures filtered through me first.”

Lavastro smiled at that, a true smile. It was relieving not to infuse it with the performative artifice she’d mastered with such difficulty.

“Thank you.” She answered, relieved in no small amount by his decision. “And rest assured you’re making the right choice.”

Mylif turned from her at that, heading to the door again. Posture suddenly stiff and tense once more.

“I won’t know that until I see what you do, can I?” He asked, a bitter note to his voice. “Bigger fool me, I trust your judgement too.”