“Baroness Evoca, shall we continue from where we left off yesterday?”

A well-dressed man spoke from the chair he sat in. there was a cup of tea sitting infront of him, the vapor trailing upwards. Despite the smell of berries that tingled the man’s nostrils his eyes were set in stone.

“If we must.”

The woman that responded was dressed in a resplendent purple dress that matched well with her black hair. The cup of tea in front of her was half empty and specs of the red liquid painted the saucer upon which it sat. the woman’s hands, unlike her hair were a pale white. With furrowed brows the woman kept her fingers interlocked and her hands on her knees added seriousness to her gaze.

“Shall I take that as reluctance to pay back what you owe? The high lord would be happy to know this.”

“Shall I take that as a threat to a noble within their own manor?”

Baroness Evoca put up a strong response but was met with a light chuckle as the man lifted the cup of tea. After taking a sip, he set it down and said rather plainly his piece.

“My life is rather cheap hardly worth much. but the high lord is a rather good businessman. I am pretty sure he could afford a small barony with it if given the chance.”

Baroness Evoca’s eyebrows twinged for a second, but her voice didn’t waver.

“Enough with the threats, must we start every meeting with such drivel?”

The Man scoffed and looked to the teacup again before deciding against it.

“Your attitude that was much too lacking in any semblance of care was the reason for this.”

“Get over yourself.”

Baroness Evoca calmed her voice, but her gaze remained the same, her wrinkled eyelids not daring to shut.

“let’s start with a summary of the meeting prior.”

“let’s”

The man ignored her remark and led the conversation, but the baroness made no more complaints.

“We have shifted guard postings within the legal limit. We have delt with the rather… primitive warnings. We have also rearranged the available emergency funds, and we have met with count Rostersby.”

“And what topic do you seek to broach today?”

“The sale of assets.”

“Have you not ever so painfully proposed such every day?”

“Selling the title is one of the many things that I am here to suggest. There are however other items on the agenda.”

The woman’s eyebrows slowly crossed as a throbbing slowly ebbed at her brain.

“And what would they happen to be?”

“Any and all items that are registered as your property are fair game.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Then I suppose this is more to establish their worth.”

“Indeed, though I must also explain exactly what you own.”

Her eyebrows moved closer again and the baroness moved her fingers slightly before answering.

“What in the name of the holy sun do you mean, do you think I don’t know what I own?”

“Yes, but I do hope that you understand I mean no offense.”

The man took another sip of tea and the baroness tensed her neck. To call the battlefield fair would be a statement that only a blind man could make. One had recently entered their prime and the other had left it long ago, and it was showing.

The baroness took a hand off her knee and brought it to the teacup. The pale white melted away and was replaced with a mild pink but that disappeared when the hand returned to her knee.

With moist lips the baroness resumed the conversation.

“I do hope you realise the position you are in.”

“And I do hope you realise how much debt you are in.”

“…”

The baroness closed her eyes and let a long sigh escape her nostrils. When the baroness light returned to the baroness’s eyes she was greeted by the smile of the man opposite her. Her eyebrows shot down and her face tensed. Where the woman once had a pleasant smile there was now a dreadful scowl.

The man seemed to expect this reaction and carried on rather content with the reaction.

“So, let’s start with something light, shall we? Since you are the main debtor and are currently in possession of the title of baron you are entitled to the property registered to the household. The property of the household Is separate from what is registered as your property as you do not have a justifiable line of inheritance.”

“WORDS, choose them wisely.”

The woman’s voice was loud and clear, and the man obliged.

“Marriage does not grant you the right to your spouses’ inheritance. Just because you are related to ‘That family’ it doesn’t mean you can bend the law.”

“In that case should I propose to the court a divorce?”

The man’s face finally showed something the woman found satisfying as it contorted. It wasn’t for long and he soon recovered, but the baroness savoured it nonetheless.

“I know what you are trying to say, but you already have an heir.”

“Are you trying to tell me that my heir would be dumb enough to accept inheriting my debt?”

“No, of course not, what I mean is that the court would not grant such a divorce.”

A smile graced the baroness’s lips, and her voice softened.

“It seems you have taken my threat lightly. To think that a divorce would be the only opportunity I have to get rid of my… worries.”

Other countries did it differently, but the empire took marriage between nobility seriously. When a noble got married they were forging connection with the other’s family, whether peasant or fellow noble. Divorce was the severing of such a connection, from both ends… by execution. Divorce could also happen after the parents had passed but there were few examples in the entire imperial history.

An old demon is still a demon, and now that the baroness was satisfied, she took the lead.

“So, what are assets that can be liquidated.”

“Probably the most profitable would-be manpower.”

“And how do you expect that to turn out?”

“The High lord is willing to pay a hefty price for your viable… stock.”

The baroness brought her hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh.

“And what would your oh so high lord wants with a sword crazed maniac?”

“Do we catch birds just to hear them sing, or trees just because they provide shade?”

The baroness turned her eyes to the garden that lay outside her window before returning her gaze to the man.

“Keep dreaming.”

Her voice was cold, and the man’s face moved far more than it had before.

“After all this are you feeling bad for the kid?”

“You are such a shallow man. Do you buy a songbird to tie its beak and stare at it? do you sell a warrior to some dude to put on a pedestal… or do you sell it to a king who is in desperate need of soldiers?”

“You would condemn your own blood to such a life?”

“it’s better that then having to deal with your lord’s blood mixing with mine. And as a little bonus I can guarantee that the south can pay far more for a warrior than the west can for a concubine.”

“The high lord will not be pleased with this answer.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“Your friends in the south have all of your husbands’ investments.”

The blood drained from the baroness’s face, but the man sat up and left before it left her mouth.

“The southern investment council…”