“Perspective is to view the world through tinted glass. Power is to call up a demon and make it that way.”

– Dread Emperor Sorcerous

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“So you’re the girl that’s throwing in her lot with us,” a gruff voice said as someone entered the room.

I turned towards the polished wooden double door and took in the sight of our new arrival. It was an older man, with white hair and a hard face. His clothing was damp from the rain. Focusing, I cleaned and dried them. It wasn’t much effort, and I imagined that Cordelia would not want her expensive chairs ruined by the man’s damp rear.

“Undecided. It depends on what you want from me, Sir…” I raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Klaus Papenheim,” he replied.

The clipping of his boots against the cold stone floor were the only sounds to reverberate throughout the room as he made his way to the third chair around the table we were seated at. They were arranged in a triangle, with Cordelia’s back to the fireplace, mine to the windows and Klaus’s to the door.

“I’ve explained what I want. I just don’t know what you want in return.”

“Repeat your requirements to us once more before we delve into the intricacies of your future contributions to the civil war,” Cordelia asked.

A noise frown outside the window distracted me for a moment. Turning, I briefly saw a blonde haired figure through the misted window. She was wearing a blue dress, and wandering around the garden in the rain. I brought my attention back to the discussion.

“You want me to explain those again?” I confirmed.

“It is best that we confirm our purposes are aligned.”

Fair enough.

“My first and second goals are to find the Rogue Sorcerer and travel into the Chain of Hunger.”

“Investigation into the fate of the Rogue Sorcerer has already begun. The matter of the Chain of Hunger shall be tabled until after the civil war concludes.”

As nice as the assurance was, I wouldn’t just take it at face value. I had done that song and dance with Coil before and while it might be unfair to compare Cordelia with him, I would be a fool to make the same mistake twice.

“I want to be able to read the reports.”

“They will be made available to you. You have yet to clarify the nature of your third request. You intend to prevent the formation of villains?”

“That’s right.”

“Explain the steps you would take to achieve this.”

“I already told you what I wanted.”

“What you have outlined is not a plan, it is a desired result.”

“I’d need to spend time researching first. Build up a better idea of what I want.”

“I wish for you to try regardless.”

I frowned, “it's complicated. Do we need to cover it right now?”

“If you desire for my assistance, it is imperative that you provide me with a foundation to build upon.”

I felt exasperated. She wanted me to provide some sort of plan for a goal that I had only just decided on. I was about to refuse again, when I felt innovate start to whisper to me, providing suggestions.

Start with the first step, Taylor.

The suggestions probably weren’t good. The quality of suggestions offered was based on how much I already knew. It was still a starting point. Cordelia wanted some idea of what I wanted? Fine, I’d give voice to what innovate told me.

Biting my bottom lip, I took a moment to compose my thoughts. “Villains exist because people are unhappy. The same is true for heroes, but the reaction is different. For villains, what happens is they see the unfairness in the world, and they decide why not spread it out. For example, a poor man living next to the homes of the rich. He doesn’t see any way to end his own suffering, so he asks himself, ‘why should I suffer when they don’t?’”

I paused for a moment.

“That doesn’t explain weaselling fucks like High Viziers or Dukes.”

“They are a minority.”

A servant came in and placed a tray on the table before us. It contained a teapot and three cups, as well as biscuits on a plate. They poured, then set down the cups before each of us.

“This framework sheds no light on the process by which entire nations such as Praes come to champion Evil.”

“I don’t know enough to answer, but there must be motivation. There is something they need but don’t have, so they try to take it by force. Over time, taking becomes a part of their culture. Eventually, it’s idolized.”

“Shed light on how you would proceed with resolving the underlying problems you perceive to exist.”

“First, you need to take away motivation to do Evil. To start with, give people less reasons to be unhappy. Invest in social welfare projects, build schools and churches, ensure everyone is educated. Improve the justice system. I don’t know the full scope of reforms required. If we can identify the problems and find the right people to deal with them, eventually we will succeed.”

“Words won’t turn back the tides of darkness, only hard steel can hold the north.” Klaus stated.

“Killing villains won’t fix anything,” I bit back. “You’ve been doing that for thousands of years and look how well it’s turned out.”

“And what of those who stand proud with Below?”

Aside from priests, Calernia didn’t really have an equivalent to psychologists. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure how to explain the concept briefly.

“Their teachers and parents can watch out for it and try to guide them.”

“And should they fall in spite of guidance?”

“You create institutions. Something like a city guard, but with oversight on Named.”

I picked up my cup and took a light sip. The tea was black, and the bitterness was refreshing. The vapour leaving the cup was pleasant against my skin. A stark contrast to the cold.

“It is your intent for those chosen by Above and Below to be subject to laws?”

“Everybody else is.”

“What manner of laws do you believe they should follow?”

“The laws of the land they live in.”

“What else would you change, while you’re planning the impossible? You’re the first of Compassion’s kids I’ve had the fortune of meeting. You truly are an idealist.” The words Klaus said were biting, but the tone was almost fond.

“… Terms of engagement.”

“You mean like prisoner exchanges, or not attacking under truce? Soldiers already follow terms of engagement.”

“Limits on what weapons are used. I’ve fought a demon before, they shouldn’t be allowed. The same for devils. Any weapon that results in significant collateral damage or has long term consequences should be restricted.”

It felt odd suggesting a ban that would remove me from conflict, but I knew what I could do. It was better that I not be allowed to fight, then other powers like me be unleashed on either side. They would be far less restrained.

Besides, there were plenty of ways I could contribute to a fight against Evil without killing people. The same wasn’t true for other demons.

“Whilst the nations of Good would accede to those limitations, they have no power without the accordance of Evil polities.” Cordelia stated.

I shrugged.

“Offer concessions elsewhere. Good probably has a weapon just as bad. If you ask me, being Good doesn’t give you the right to commit atrocities. The ban can go both ways. If that doesn’t work, offer favourable trade agreements.”

“How would you ensure these terms are met? Without the consent of villains, the terms have no merit.”

“I don’t know. Maybe create a legal body that can serve as oversight and enforcement. Where I came from, we had one. Convince some heroes to join it. It would be difficult, but not impossible.”

“Praes has no incentive to allow such a force to operate within their borders.”

“I know.”

“Exactly what would fall under this entity’s purview? Would they encompass solely the Principate, or the entirety of Calernia?”

“Ideally, the whole continent. I’d start with a single nation, then expand outwards.”

“Consider only the nations aligned with the Gods Above. The legal and the cultural expectations deviate substantially in Procer from Levant. Why would an organization with international authority would ever succeed in garnering approval?”

“Because it’s in everyone’s best interest?”

“Unless the enforcer has no teeth, the existence of such an entity threatens the sovereignty of every nation they are able to operate within.”

“Liesse was not the worst disaster I have seen, just the most recent. Unless something changes, tragedies like it will keep happening. I don’t know how to convince rulers to agree, but it is in everyone’s best interest.”

“It seems unlikely that these reforms will prevent new villains entirely. I suggest setting your sights on smaller, more manageable tasks rather than those which cannot be achieved,” Cordelia added.

“These ideas won’t remove villains. That isn’t the point. It’s a step in the right direction. We don’t need to succeed in a single try. If we move what is considered acceptable further in one direction, then one day villains won’t be tolerated anywhere at all.”

Sure, the final step would likely involve divine intervention, but just because I felt it was needed at the end didn’t mean we couldn’t also help ourselves along the way.

“While your broader goal is laudable, if idealistic, those are ultimately international politics. Do you have similar lofty ideas for the Principate that you would care to expound upon?”

Grimacing, I leaned into innovate once more.

Right. Cordelia cares about the Principate.

“Does the Principate need to exist at all?”

“The Principate was founded on the flames of Dread Empress Triumphant’s pyre. Should another like her arise, or should the Dead King cross our borders, it would take the combined might of the entirety of Procer to drive them off. Its existence is a cornerstone in the battle against Evil.”

“Wouldn’t a mutual defence pact achieve the same result?”

“The southernmost Principalities would have no strong motivation to sally forth to our defence, considering the distances involved. Furthermore, should the Principate splinter into a collection of individual polities, the rate of conflict would only escalate. So long as there is a chance for the princes to claim the position of First Prince, it is in their interest to participate in the defence of all Principalities.”

“You really believe that the southern principalities would just abandon you to fight on your own?”

“The gulf between Rhenia and Aequitan is vast. Until the Dead King’s armies are standing at their gates, they will view the conflicts against Evil as a remote concern.”

“So you are saying that people in different Principalities don’t really care about people in other Principalities, because they are unlikely to ever meet?” I clarified

“That is correct.”

So the only reason the Principate functioned at all was greed. True, the countries on Earth had not been much better, but most of them didn’t have the audacity to call themselves Good in the religious sense.

Establishing a functional democracy on Calernia would be hard, considering stories. I also wasn’t sure if it would fix anything. Well, Cordelia wanted me to voice my ideas, why not suggest it?

“The system of governance in the Principate could change. Much like the First Prince, the other princes could also be elected by the citizens within their Principality. Four year terms only. The system could be designed to allow people from all walks of life to administer the principalities, not just those born into the life of a prince.”

“The system of governance used in Callow has been met with failure ever since the events in Liesse. Since then, the Black Knight has taken a much more direct role in the administration of affairs.”

I hadn’t known or expected any of that. It came as an unpleasant surprise. But that wasn’t what I was proposing.

“What I am suggesting only has superficial similarities.”

“Why allow those not bred for statecraft to occupy the halls of power?”

What… did she want me to say here?

“The only difference between someone born into your family and someone born on the street is luck, not the will of the Gods.” Klaus looked like he was about to interrupt me, I raised a hand and cut him off. “I’ve seen the Choir of Compassion and come a lot closer to seeing the Gods than most people ever will. They don’t weigh in on decisions like that. That is decided by what you do, not who you were born as.”

“Talent is distributed blind to titles and breeding,” Cordelia agreed, “but your claim is also founded on falsehood. The circumstances of birth are not the only difference separating a peasant and a prince. Princes are well-educated, better connected, and have greater autonomy. This confluence of circumstances makes them better suited to rule. The life of a pauper may be tragic, but his poverty does not qualify him for the right to rule.”

“The world doesn’t need to be that way. In my homeland, anyone could lead. Most people were educated. What stops you from doing the same? Praes has an education system. Anyone can learn if they are willing to serve in the Legions. Why shouldn’t the Principate do the same?”

“The system you propose remains founded on a lie. Those born into wealth are afforded greater opportunities, will breed better, will have access to advantages that those under them never will. Thus, they will remain the ones best suited to rule.”

Is this really what she thinks?

I had walked into this discussion hoping this could possibly be a friendly relationship. If this was the way she thought, I doubted it would work. It was as if Cordelia didn’t even realize how dismissive she was being to those under her when she spoke. Was this really my best choice for improving the lives of people in the Principate?

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

To my dismay, the subtle threads of the story strongly suggested it.

“Just because people will never be perfectly equal, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to bridge the gap. The system I am proposing is not perfect, but it is better.”

“If both systems result in the same ruler being selected, then your efforts have born no fruit. Furthermore, the current system ensures a static selection of leaders within each Principality for extended periods of time. This allows for long term planning and stable governance. Introducing a democratic process to the governance of the individual Principalities would introduce the inefficiencies of those processes.”

“You said you don’t want to be a tyrant.”

It’s like she’s deliberately trying to undercut everything I say.

“If you wish to alter the shape of Procer’s politics, these are but a few of the questions you will need to answer.”

“I know that,” I replied, exasperated. “I also know that I’m not the person that should be answering them. It should be someone like you. It’s why I am listening to your offer and not trying to do this on my own.”

“You would trust someone else with shaping your dreams?”

“It’s not about trusting others with my dreams. I’ll still do my best to learn and find out what it takes. But even then, it’s about… finding the right people. I don’t think I am the right person to lead, but I can find them and point out the goal. If I can’t find the right person to lead, then I will do it, but it isn’t my first choice.”

“You proposed that serfs should elect their own rulers. When a patient visits a healer, they have no say in how their injury is remedied, they trust the expertise of the priest. Explain why you believe that individuals who do not understand the highest offices of power should have any say in what occurs there.”

“Why shouldn’t they? Your decisions affect them. What gives you the right to decide how people live their lives without their say so?” I retorted.

There was a pause for a moment, before discussion resumed.

“For now, let us proceed under the assumption that your hypothetical model would work. How would you justify the cost of undergoing such large-scale societal reforms.”

“You want to continue arguing about this?”

“If you wish for an agreement between us to be found, then it is imperative you outline what you wish to achieve.”

I feel like I am being put through a school test that I didn’t know I needed to prepare for.

“To start with, a civil war like the current one wouldn’t happen.”

“How did you reach that conclusion?”

“Their people wouldn’t re-elect them if they did. Nobody is going to vote the person starting wars they don’t want back into power.”

I picked up one of the biscuits and took a bite. It was overly sweet, but now that I had started eating it, I was committed to finishing.

“The belief that reforming the system would prevent another civil war is false. It is predicated on the assumption that the elected ruler is incapable of convincing their subjects of the righteousness of war.”

“That’s true. But it’s harder, there’s extra steps.”

“The certainty of power is an illusion. It is already necessary for the princes to have the approval of their subjects, for if they did not, then their rule would be overturned.”

“That isn’t true. The people in charge will kill them for speaking out, It’s a large motivation to not step out of line. Give people a way to remove their leaders and they will use it”

“If the princes of each Principality are genuinely held in contempt by their subjects, their subjects would revolt. They are not, they are seen as cultural symbols of pride. Furthermore, it is not difficult to externalize any existing problems. It is easy for one to believe that individuals they have never met before are the cause of their woes, rather than those they are familiar with.”

“The system worked where I came from. I don’t believe you can just copy it across exactly as is, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take parts of it and make it work here.”

“Even assuming that was true, how would you convince the other Princes to relinquish their hold on authority and accept these reforms?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I was hoping you could find an answer to that.”

“Regardless, I have heard enough,” Cordelia declared. “Now that we have established what you want, we can focus our attention on the civil war. Afterwards, we can finalize terms.”

While she didn’t say it, I suspected that my third requirement wasn’t an imposition at all for her. She planned to rule the Principate. Even if what I wanted was unrealistic in her mind, she almost certainly planned reforms of her own. She could consider both at the same time, even if she had no intention of implementing my own.

This relationship would almost certainly have to be transactional. I didn’t think I would like Cordelia as a person, but I didn’t need to, provided that I controlled what she wanted. I would trade what she wanted for her finding and implementing solutions to social problems, if that was what it took. It was unlikely she would have an issue with that, especially if I funded them.

I wouldn’t be seeing a functional democracy any time soon, but that was fine. Right now, I wasn’t aiming for one. I planned to start at the bottom and work my way up.

“As one sworn to Compassion, how much do you know about waging war?” Klaus began.

“Admittedly not much. I know small unit tactics, for an irregular group of soldiers.”

“Prince Dagobert has an iron grip on many of the neighbouring Principalities. Ever since Princess Constance died, the pressure applied to him from the east has waned.”

“Prince Dagobert demands we raise our armies and support his claim, or suffer brutal taxes under his reign. The tone of ongoing communications has become more pointed as the war progresses,” Cordelia added.

“While the Lycaonese are the most veteran soldiers in the Principate, we have little time to capitalize on that. Parts of our forces are always tied up on the walls, and any we deploy must be pulled back come spring.”

“Which means you want what?…”

“I want you to consign enemy generals to the grave and force their surrender.”

“I take it there’s no way to resolve the conflict through diplomacy?”

I doubted there was, otherwise it would have been done before. But there was no harm in asking.

“The conflict has dragged on for long enough that hatreds have become entrenched. The war will not end until only a single claimant remains.”

“So you’re saying that this is going to continue until the people in charge die.”

“That is the shape of it. Are you willing to excise the rot?”

… I think he got the wrong impression from what I had said.

“I’m not killing everyone,” I leaned back in my chair. The comforting press of the green satin against the back of my head almost felt strange after having spent so long in rougher quarters. “At least, not so long as I don’t have proof they’re all awful people.”

Especially not after Cordelia’s earlier argument. It hadn’t done much to convince me she was any better than the other princes she complained about. I suspected that if she hadn’t been born in Rhenia, she would not have cared about its problems at all.

“The Principate needs order. Sometimes hard choices must be made.”

“I think you and I will disagree on what it means to make hard choices.”

“Compassion’s get are the best of us, but your goodness blinds you. Sometimes, someone has to order the torches thrown.”

“Choosing to kill people to make the issue go away is easy. Not on your conscience, but in terms of knowing the outcome. It’s final. It brings new complications of its own, but you know that the solution to that one problem is set in stone. Other answers are more messy and the outcomes are uncertain. Making a decision where you don’t know if the answer will work is much harder. If killing is the only answer to a problem, then that’s fine, but I have a lot of choices.”

“So said the voice of one who has never held a blade.”

“I’ve killed more than enough. Some I regret, others I don’t. You’re thinking about this as if you don’t have other options here. There is nothing stopping me from imprisoning the claimants somewhere they could never escape from. It would take time to find them all, but I could do it. I could also compel them to fight each other in single combat until only one remained. Violence isn’t the only choice I have.”

Klaus started choking with laughter. He had been drinking while I was talking, and some of it went down the wrong way. He held the cup like a savage, with his hand under the base.

Cordelia and I both looked in on the man, unamused.

“Only the House of Light would tolerate those proposed solutions. All claimants would find those ideas to be abhorrent. Furthermore, you would be in effect declaring that you have the right to decide who rules the Principate.”

I didn’t respond. It wasn’t as if those proposals had been serious. They were more an example of what I could do.

“None of them are doing their duty to the Principate,” Klaus’s voice had hardened. “It’s a hard truth, but sometimes blades need to be drawn.”

I reached onto the table and picked up another biscuit from beside the teapot. Nibbling on it, I composed my thoughts before deciding on how to respond.

“I know I’m an outsider here. That I have no right to tell you how to resolve this, but you’re missing something important. If you want to plan involving me, then my opinion matters. You can’t just treat me like a weapon and point me at your problems. I’m not willing to just kill on command.”

Klaus muttered something under his breath about the folly of Compassion’s heroes. I ignored it.

“Are the soldiers conscripts, or are they hired mercenaries?”

It mattered to me because it changed how I viewed the fighting. If the soldiers were there voluntarily, then it was their own decision to fight. As stupid as I thought that decision was, I wouldn’t take it away from them.

So long as they didn’t hurt innocents in the process of killing each other, I was fine with them fighting it out.

“That varies from prince to prince. Most of them are making heavy use of peasant levies, others are hiring foreign soldiers.” Klaus responded.

“Won’t there be consequences for that? The war’s continued for so long. Surely this is unsustainable.”

“Many years will need to be spent after the culmination of the war, restoring the Principate’s economy,” Cordelia interjected.

“I am not saying I won’t consider killing people at all, only that it isn’t going to be my first choice.”

“How many lives must be spent before you choose to act?”

I should have just told them I wouldn’t kill people at all. While it wouldn’t have been entirely true, simply mentioning that it was an option meant that they were going to keep pushing me for it.

“Think of me like a dragon, only there is no hero here who is going to come save the enemy. If I was fighting, the only person who would matter is me. I think that this war is stupid, but people chose to fight, and I won’t take that away from them. The moment I act, the fight ends. It’s me saying that nobody else’s opinion matters. I would only be a few steps removed from declaring myself queen. I don’t want to do that.”

I knew I was being a hypocrite. But I was not deeply attached towards any of the sides, and I wasn’t going to kill because someone who I had only just met was asking me to. If they wanted me to fund their campaign in exchange for meeting my needs, I would do that. The people they would be paying were fine with killing others for money, even if I refused to.

“Your principles are noble, but won’t safeguard our borders.”

I was about to refuse once more, when I felt a nudge from the Choir. What they wanted did not make my life any easier.

Am I really going to agree to their request?

… Yes, yes I was. Because it was the right thing to do, even if it was unlikely to succeed. I didn’t believe it would work, but I would at least try. If I didn’t try, I was choosing to fail.

“I’ll accompany an army of your choice, and I’ll follow the chain of command outside of battle, although I won’t involve myself in the fights. I’ll support them in almost any way you like. But before battle, I want permission to attempt resolving the conflict through negotiation.”

“That is both irregular and creates openings for enemy action.”

“It is irregular,” I agreed. “But I’ll negotiate for it. It’s a request from my Choir to find a peaceful resolution.”

“For there to be an agreement, you need to compromise. Right now, you demand much but offer little.”

“Start proposing ideas that don’t involve killing people, and we can come to an agreement.”

“Are you able to scry? Long distance communication would prove advantageous.” Klaus asked.

I reached onto the table and carefully lifted the fragile porcelain cup. Bringing it to my lips, I inhaled the tea’s fragrance before taking a small sip and placing it back down.

“I could, but it’s risky and unreliable. It has a limited range as well. I would rather not.”

“How about defensive emplacements. Strategically placed barriers, like the ones you used at Liesse, or raising and lowering enemy morale.”

I had the sense that he didn’t really understand what I could do very well. If that wasn’t corrected, the conversation would go on for hours.

“What do you see me as? Where do I fit in?”

“A highly talented Praesi sorcerer. That would make you equivalent to some better dwarven siege artillery.”

“My only reference for a highly talented Praesi sorcerer is the Warlock, and I have no idea what dwarven siege artillery can do,” I admitted.

“Then why don’t you explain what you can do?”

I shrugged, then tapped the tablecloth. As I did so, I turned it into aluminium foil.

Both of them paused and stared. Cordelia recovered composure first.

“I would appreciate it if you returned my tablecloth to its former status,” she said drily.

I did so.

“How much can you do?” Klaus asked.

“When I said I can do almost anything, I meant it. It does depend on the complexity. The less complicated the outcome is, the easier it is for me to do. I can do large scale workings anywhere within a mile of me, although eventually I do become exhausted. You’ve been trying to fit me into an existing framework when it’s not helpful. I could just make money out of dirt. There is no amount of money Praes can raise that I can’t eventually beat. There is nothing stopping you from just bribing the opposition.”

“Attempting to bribe the other princes is an act of folly. They would reinvest the capital into hiring more mercenaries, then turn them against us.” Cordelia replied.

“How about funding your own campaign?”

“The proposal has merit, provided the material you create is not Proceran coinage.”

“Why the distinction?”

“You are not the First Prince, you do not have the right to mint coins. Even if you were, there are laws in place determining how much currency may be minted by the First Prince. It is a minor distinction, but every action I undertake will be scrutinized in the aftermath of the civil war.”

“I thought you would have complained about me devaluing currency.”

“Debasing the value of Proceran coinage would cost capital far in excess of the price of winning the war. Irrespective of this, the impact of the added coin will only be felt in the later stages of the war.”

“Why?”

“We have until before next Spring to win the war. The Ratling activity in the north has picked up in recent years, and we cannot afford for the walls to be caught unguarded. Setting aside the finer details, we have little time to strike. Spending coin will still take time.” Klaus explained.

“Would any other goods prove useful?”

“There are some which would be of benefit. Although for now, it is wiser to adopt a more conservative approach.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

Cordelia finished up her tea, and placed the empty cup down beside the pot.

“Blatant mass transmutation will indicate to every merchant in the Principate that the only value their wares hold is the value that you permit. Fear and hatred are the expected consequence of this, and that would make an alliance between us untenable. Furthermore, the utility of what you are capable of is constrained by the needs of Rhenia. Our people are sufficiently armed and armoured, war has long been our trade.”

“Why wouldn’t an alliance between us work if that happened? It’s not you that poses the threat.”

“For a long term period of stability to exist after the conclusion of the civil war, the prevailing claimant needs to achieve victory in a manner that is deemed acceptable by all princes. Were you to threaten the livelihood of everyone at all levels of society, it would be found intolerable.”

“So aside from gold, which won’t pay off for a while, what would you like me to do right now then?” I asked.

“You said you can make almost anything. Is that right?” Klaus interjected.

“That’s right. So long as I know what I’m trying to make.”

“Can you make roads?”

What?

Out of all the requests I had expected, that hadn’t been one. From blowing up enemy armies to interfering with the economy, it was all more or less something I had already considered. Undertaking civic projects was not on the list of ideas I had.

“I could,” I admitted. “How fast would depend on exactly what you want. If you just want me to smooth out land, I could probably do it all day. If you want me to turn dirt into a heavily decorated cobbled brick road, I’d tire myself fast.”

“I don’t need something fancy, just flat and traversable by cataphracts. The Principality of Brus is covered in swampland. Roads are forced to follow the terrain. Should you cut a direct route to the city through the deepest parts of the bog, the campaign would be accelerated. Furthermore, we can launch assaults from less defended regions.”

“Floating them across on an island would be faster.”

“Can both be done at once?”

“No.”

“Roads have more long term utility.”

“Wouldn’t that have the same problem as if I mass-produced goods?” I asked.

“It does not,” Cordelia replied. “Civil engineering in regions which are not currently easily navigable is several steps removed from directly interfering with the economy. It is not interfering with the livelihood of anyone important. Furthermore, it will likely cause a long term economic uplift by increasing the rate of transit between cities.”

“There are people living along existing roads. Aren’t their jobs threatened by this?”

“Should that prove to be the case, there is nothing preventing them from moving somewhere else.”

“You aren’t concerned about losing the fight?”

“There are not many enemies I would not trust the swords of the Lycaonese to prevail over. The southern princes aren’t one of them. Time is the hole in our gorget, not our strength of arms.”

“I can build roads. Is there anything else?”

The suggestions proposed from that point onwards became more palatable. From putting enemy soldiers to sleep – unfortunately, I wasn’t sure I could do that to crowds safely – to trapping them in prisons. There were additional requests for transmutation as well. Better steel for weapons and armour. Requests for crossbows, which I did not know how to make but could learn. However, most of Klaus’s attention remained focused on logistics.

The conversation dragged on for a long, long time. It was exhausting. On the whole, the meeting had been disappointing in some ways and promising in others. By the time we were done, the sun had set, and I had agreed to fund Cordelia’s war chest, as well as provide her with some specific goods. She kept trying to coerce me into finalizing agreements that would only take place after the war concluded. Those, I put off. They could wait until later, and be traded for actual reforms.

Right now, I was bartering for time spent refining my ideas and the continued use of her information network. Maybe I was paying a little too much, but I wanted it to be obvious just how much I could do for her. I would be Good’s drug dealer if that was the way to change the world and right now, Cordelia’s first hit was cheap.

I still didn’t know why she felt my assistance was necessary. She was a master at deflection whenever pressed on the subject.

Once the campaign truly began, I would be assisting Mathilda Siegenburg’s forces. They would be leading the charge against Brus. I doubted I would be able to resolve the conflict peacefully, but I would at least try.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about participating in a war for a country that I had no real allegiance to, but I did know one thing. There was no way for me to reasonably start making changes without choosing to align myself with an existing side, or making a side of my own.