Bread
“Community service for a month— you know what that means, right?”
Edward wore a grin like he was about to die laughing. Watching Sisilia squirm like this, he felt like he could finally sleep easy after the past month.
“It means you'll follow my orders for a full month, no pay, no rewards.”
The classic brutal punishment of the Windsor Knights, passed down through the ages. But public opinion was different this time. Getting off with just a month of service for peeking at the Empress's panties? ...Not bad at all.
“Yesss...”
Edward, eyeing the sullen Sisilia, finally voiced his genuine curiosity.
“...What the hell possessed you to pull that stunt?”
'Did even she realize financial authority wasn't her thing?' Edward pondered seriously.
“Humans have a tailbone. That's proof we used to have tails.”
“...Who said that?”
“Einstein.”
“Einstein, huh? First time hearing that name. And?”
Sisilia declared proudly.
“Even if a dragon polymorphed, it couldn't hide its tail. Why bother making one when you've got a tailbone? It's rude.”
“...”
Edward stroked his chin, shooting Sisilia a side-eye. Long ago, he'd crossed paths with a rabid dog on the street. A master like him had zero chance of getting bitten, but he'd safely detoured anyway. Not out of fear, just to avoid the hassle.
This was the same.
“Someday I'll find a live dragon. Look forward to it.”
“...Yeah. Good luck.”
Edward decided not to touch this cotton ball named Sisilia. Instead, he'd deal with Vice-Captain Sisilia.
“Simple reason I called you here today.”
Edward opened his pouch and upended it on the table.
Clatter.
Shiny platinum coins spilled out in a cascade.
“Adventurer Guild investment dividends came in. Remember?”
Sisilia nodded eagerly, eyes sparkling.
Back when they founded the Adventurer Guild, they'd agreed on a 7:3 split in her favor. The guild was now indispensable nationwide, filling the void left by the declining mercenary guilds. Profits were massive, of course—thanks to Edward handling operations.
“Your share's about 50,000 gold here.”
'If I'd known it'd rake in this much, I wouldn't have given her 30%.'
Ever the royal, Edward had a petty thought as he smacked away Sisilia's hand reaching for the coins.
“...?”
“Gotta do the math. Think about what you've spent.”
“But I filled it all back up. The dragon dolls are knight order business too.”
“Doesn't erase the vice-captain's corruption.”
Edward fixed her with a cold stare.
“You don't think I just sat around watching you blow through the budget, do you?”
Sisilnyang broke into a cold sweat, gauging Edward's mood.
“You probably thought budgets were just for dumping money into. But this order has procedures. Unauthorized spending must be repaid.”
“Th-that's not fair! Eddy's a liar!”
“Does this look like a joke?”
As Edward's face hardened, Sisilia wilted, clasping her hands.
“...I was wrong.”
Edward sighed inwardly.
'Finally, some relief.'
He was secretly satisfied.
“First, deduct 20,000 gold for punching a massive hole in the slums over some nonsense about finding magic stones.”
Sisilia protested wildly.
“But we found the dragon because of it!”
“Good results don't justify going rogue.”
Sisilia couldn't accept this. She played her best card.
“Forgive me just once.”
Unfortunately, budget talk made Edward ice-cold.
“Overruled.”
“...”
“Then subtract the incentives you handed out on absurd criteria and the useless artifacts you bulk-bought.”
Edward pocketed all of Sisilia's platinum coins.
“There. You're now -100,000 gold in debt to the Windsor Knights. A fair amount, considering your dragon find and doll sales padded the vault somewhat. Unlike you, we use common sense.”
Sisilia looked like her soul had left her body. She'd sworn there were heaps of platinum for her share. Why was it zero?
“...That's too harsh. I worked hard too.”
Seeing her so heartbroken, Edward felt a tiny pang of guilt. Just a tiny one.
'Karma.' That thought dominated.
...Still, she was like a little sister. Edward showed mercy.
“Eh, buy yourself a cake or something.”
He tossed her a single gold coin like charity.
Sisilia snatched it mid-air, clutched it to her chest, and teared up.
“Th-thank you.”
“...”
Her genuine gratitude left Edward speechless. He'd been furious to his core. But seeing her reflect, his anger softened. Misusing the budget wasn't forgiven, but entrusting it to this kid was Lydia's fault anyway.
Edward closed his eyes and spoke.
“I'll let the service pass without issue. Take a break for now.”
Community service usually meant hated missions or humiliating chores for Windsor knights. Edward planned to assign Sisilia nothing. Partly for her remorse today, partly guilt over sending her east.
“Captain...!”
Sisilia gazed at him, moved.
Edward smirked.
“Eaten lunch? We haven't dined together in ages. My treat today.”
Just as things wrapped warmly—
“Big trouble!”
The captain's door slammed open.
“Crimes using magic wands are skyrocketing!”
Edward scowled.
“What does that have to do with the Windsor Knights?”
“W-well...”
Edward's aide glanced at Sisilia.
“...The wand maker's sponsor is our Windsor Knights.”
“...What?”
“Under Vice-Captain Sisilia's name.”
Sponsoring a mage implied responsibility if they caused trouble. This was basically Sisilia's mess.
“Nobles are flooding the Windsor Knights with complaints...”
Sisilia sweated bullets, edging backward.
“I-I'll head out first. Lunch date with Edward...”
As she bolted, Edward grabbed her nape.
His eyes blazed.
“No food till you fix it.”
Thus dumped in front of HQ, Sisilia slumped and gazed skyward, forlorn.
“Life...”
Life was never easy.
**
“Haha! This is impressive.”
In a discreet restaurant, two nobles conversed.
“Pushing the knights near bankruptcy over the railway, supplying gangs with wands to stir anti-Windsor sentiment—strategies I never would've dreamed of without you, Count Queian.”
Count Queian, rising star among central nobles. His business acumen amassed wealth and growing power.
“Just exploiting a gap. Still, who knew he'd craft such a useful artifact.”
He held Ariana's magic wand.
A wondrous item. Even the powerless could wield a veteran soldier's might—just aim at the head and fire.
“The mage must be thrilled we're using his innovation properly.”
“Hahaha! Indeed. Turning worthless scum—worthless except their lives—into something useful. Revolutionary artifact. Pricey, though.”
Queian had flooded gangs with wands. Supplied, no orders given. Yet they'd sown chaos in Terezia—like terrorism over railways amid famine.
This bred noble backlash against the barely stable Windsor Knights.
Exactly what Queian wanted. Leverage for prime position in the 'railway business.'
'Your sponsored mage is derailing the railway. Compensate or yield higher dividends. Even if Windsor cleans up the gangs, I win—showing I can pressure them boosts my influence among nobles.'
Victory: massive profits. Defeat: immense power.
Queian toasted Sisilia inwardly, refilling his wine. Back in his office, he opened the door to a mysterious girl by the window.
On her back—a white cape emblazoned with the Windsor Knights' emblem.
“...Didn't expect a personal visit. Where'd the intel leak?”
Queian sat unfazed on the sofa, pouring champagne from a display, swirling it arrogantly.
“No mistakes on my end.”
Sisilia didn't reply, just watched passersby—newbies—from the window.
“Whatever you know changes nothing.”
Queian was thorough. His acts were immoral, not illegal. Sure, supplying lethal wands to gangs and nudging their rampages—but evidence was gone.
“No imperial law broken. Just commissioned good artifacts, sold for fair price. Same for railway—demanded 150,000 more gold as contracted.”
Windsors could kill. But needed cause—like demon hindrance or grave crime. Killing sans proof? Even they couldn't.
They weren't anarchists.
Besides—even with proof of gang murders—
“Without my power, no railway. No replacement in the empire. Arrest me, and Windsor pays a million gold for nothing. No imperial rail link means tough winter.”
National good outweighed his crimes. His utility trumped sins.
Queian had acted with certainty.
“In short, you can't kill me.”
As his lip curled—
Sisilia, hands behind back, turned from the window, slowly raising a hand at him.
“Bread.”
“...?”
Queian blinked at the nonsense—
Sisilia smiled with her mouth alone, calmly.
“It's a spell that kills people.”
Long silence. Queian swallowed, chilled inexplicably. Still believing she couldn't touch him, he hid his tension.
“Really? Odd—my head's still intact.”
“No.”
Sisilia denied flatly, approaching slowly.
“What I just killed wasn't you.”
“...Then?”
She sat opposite, impassive.
“Your relatives, parents, wife, daughter.”
Queian took time processing.
“...What?”
“Don't worry too much. This spell takes time to reach the target.”
A man-slaying magic spell? ...No.
Sisilia had declared: 'I can kill your family anytime.'
Queian's eyes widened. Cold sweat trickled down his cheek.
“So—shall we negotiate?”
Sisilia sucked at bargaining. Money held little value to her.
“Sign these papers, and I'll teach you the spell to save your family.”
But threats? She excelled. She knew life's value, if not gold's.
“The spell is 'Baguette.' Because baguettes are my favorite bread.”
Thus, Sisilia successfully wrapped up the empire's 'railway business.'