Sign Here, If You Can
As the clerk's voice rose louder and louder, a murmur swelled through the onlookers. Fiona couldn't see a thing, but she could feel every eye in the room settling on her.
She clenched the pen tight. Sweat slid down her tense fingers, and the pen began to slip.
"Th-then, um..."
Fiona had never learned to write. What use was there in learning, when even then she couldn't have read a single word? None at all, naturally.
Instead, she had learned to enunciate precisely and to lend her whole ear to whatever others said. Thanks to that, she had been able to live among warm-hearted neighbors. But none of it counted for anything in front of a bank clerk who hid behind principle.
Barely catching the slipping pen, Fiona scratched out a few wobbly lines. They had told her to write her name; unable to write, she had simply drawn whatever her hand could manage. She had made the mark with her own two hands, after all — who was to say that didn't count as a signature?
"Are you playing games with me, grandmother? You're not a child — what is this supposed to be? Honestly, there goes perfectly good paperwork, ruined."
The man snatched the paper away and ripped it to shreds. Every tearing sound made Fiona feel as though it were she being torn apart, and she flinched and shivered where she stood.
"Now then. Write it again, or leave."
The man tossed the papers down carelessly. Fiona turned away, her face worn thin. She was giving up.
"Just a moment, please."
Someone caught hold of her.
"Please wait."
Judging by the voice, it was still only a girl. Something warm ran beneath her tone, and Fiona found herself standing rooted to the spot without knowing why.
"I will help you."
It was help she needed more desperately than ever before in her life — and yet what could a girl so young possibly do for her? Doubt stirred in Fiona's heart.
"Wait for me, please. I promise."
With that, the girl left Fiona where she stood and headed for the counter.
"Hello there, mister."
"Kid, this isn't a playground."
First the old woman, now a little girl — with customers like these, the teller's face crumpled in disgust.
"Did you trail along after your mother? Run along somewhere else."
"I came to leave something in your care."
From the girl's arms emerged the Dragon's Vow.
"We don't take children's treasure maps here, kid."
"Is there no appraiser in this bank? Call the appraiser over and have them confirm what this item is first, won't you?"
"Go home. I'm in a foul mood."
The teller shoved the Dragon's Vow back toward the girl.
"Diana Viola Ehrenberg."
"What?"
"I'm not a kid. That is my name."
Diana removed her bonnet, gave her rippling golden hair a single shake, and turned her most dazzling smile full upon the teller.
"You're... you're the young lady of House Ehrenberg?"
Diana's radiant smile said yes, and the teller's mouth clapped shut at once. House Ehrenberg — the ducal family, the wealthiest in the entire kingdom. And this was Lady Diana Ehrenberg of that very house?
There was no need to verify her identity separately. No one in the kingdom had the gall to impersonate House Ehrenberg.
Slowly, the teller's gaze traveled to the Dragon's Vow.
Chances are that thing's the real deal, aren't they?
A Dragon's Vow carried in under the Ehrenberg name. There was no way it was a lie.
The teller shook the bell.
"The appraiser! Someone fetch the appraiser, quickly!"
The teller bustled about in a fluster. He rose from his seat, smoothed his hair, and offered Diana a place to sit.
"Will you sit here, Lady Diana?"
"Would you bring me a cup of tea?"
"Of course. I'll have it ready at once."
The teller swiftly brewed a fresh cup. Diana gazed at it blankly for a moment, then pushed it away with a tap.
"The aroma is rather poor. Is there nothing else?"
"You find the tea's aroma lacking, I see. I'll bring another."
Diana didn't so much as touch the second tea either.
"This one as well? I'll prepare something else at once."
Unbidden, the teller snapped briskly to and fro. By the time he returned with the third tea, word had come back from the appraiser.
All the while, he had been sweating buckets over Diana and her inexplicably prickly manner.
"Genuine, you say? It's genuine?"
"Yes, it is genuine beyond doubt."
The teller's face, which had been stiffening by degrees, lit up. He let out a long, deep breath and turned to Diana.
"It is genuine, Lady Diana."
"Did you think I would bring a forgery and ask you to keep it?"
Diana's reply came back sharp as a needle.
What is with this kid? They say House Ehrenberg is so illustrious, but the child's upbringing is an absolute mess.
Behind a mask of courteous smiles, the teller cursed Diana heartily in his head. She had picked at every little thing from the moment she arrived, and now she was picking a fight to the very end — this was a defect of character, plain and simple.
"I do trust you. I trust you, Lady Diana — the procedure simply left me no choice."
Even so, bow and scrape was all the teller could do. Such was the sorrowful lot of a bank employee.
"Procedure. That damned procedure."
Diana thrust out her lower lip in a pout. To any other observer it would have been an adorable sight; to the teller, it looked like the face of a demon.
She's not a person, she's money. Just think of her as money.
Muttering a prayer under his breath, the teller held out the contract. He wanted this deal, and he wanted it badly.
The business of safeguarding treasures brought the bank no direct profit.
But to be entrusted with a treasure as precious as the Dragon's Vow meant the bank's security was second to none — and that was, in effect, an advertisement to every deep pocket in the kingdom that this bank was safe. Which would, in turn, draw in customers.
Phoenix Bank's interior had been in an uproar of late. Rumor had it that with the bank struggling, a mass dismissal of staff was coming.
The teller wanted to survive, by any means necessary. And to survive, he had to show what he could do.
House Ehrenberg, and the Dragon's Vow.
With these two, the teller meant to prove himself.
"Here is the contract. Please read it through carefully, and sign here—"
"Ah, I'm tired. I don't feel like reading."
"...Shall I read it for you, then?"
"If you like."
The teller read the contract aloud, enunciating every syllable. Perhaps because it concerned the custody of treasure, the clauses were endless.
Every time the teller paused, his throat parched, Diana pressed him to hurry up and read faster. In the end he read the dense thicket of clauses to the very last line without so much as a sip of water.
"...and so forth. Did you understand all of that?"
The teller's lips were cracked dry by the time he finished reading and lowered the papers.
"Who do you take me for, a fool? I understood every last word."
Thank the heavens, the teller thought, weak with relief. A second reading would have wrung him dry.
"You need only sign here."
The teller held out the contract at the most flattering angle he could manage. Diana picked up the pen — and stopped, pen hovering in midair.
"Is something the matter?"
"Oh dear, whatever shall I do? I can't seem to remember how my name is written."
With a magnificent show of being struck dumb, Diana handed the papers and the pen back to the teller.
"Would you write it for me?"
"That would be a violation of regulations—"
"Is it? Well, can't be helped, then. I'll simply have to take my business to another bank."
The instant Diana rose to her feet, the teller thrust both arms out in a panic and caught her sleeve. Draped half across the desk, he peered up at her.
"Just a moment! If — if you can't remember your name, you could draw a picture, or — no, forgive me. If it proves too difficult, someone else may sign on your behalf. How about it? Grant your consent, and I shall sign for you myself."
"Oh... is that so?"
A frost-cold smile settled over Diana's face.
Her whole bearing changed in a heartbeat. The teller let go of her sleeve before he knew he'd done it.
Sh-she's just a child...
And yet from Diana emanated a majesty that brooked no liberties.
"You said that wasn't allowed just now, didn't you?" Diana asked, her gaze turning to Fiona.
"W-well, that is... it depends on the circumstances. So long as the person herself consents, another may sign in her stead..."
"So it can be done. Jenice — bring the grandmother over here."
Jenice, who had been observing the whole spectacle from the side, sprang into action. The teller, entirely unable to follow what was happening anymore, could only stand and watch Diana's play unfold.
When Jenice returned leading Fiona by the hand, Diana rose from her seat and gave it up to the old woman. She took Fiona's hand in her own, guided her to the chair, and eased her down into it. Then Diana spoke.
"Grandmother, my name is Diana Viola Ehrenberg. Might I sign the special disability allowance papers on your behalf?"
"But the bank clerk said that wasn't allowed..."
"It seems the clerk was mistaken. Isn't that right, mister?"
Mentioned though he had been all but forgotten until now, the teller jolted in alarm and hurried to open his mouth.
"Y-yes! I was mistaken. Here are the documents — please, fill them out."
The teller turned honey-sweet with courtesy. He asked Fiona her name; bewildered, she gave it, and looked back over the whole affair.
Fiona had been listening to the exchange between Diana and the teller all along. Not by choice — she had simply been gathering her courage to plead with the teller one more time, and had overheard everything while she waited.
For a girl introduced as a daughter of House Ehrenberg, Diana's behavior had been appalling. Fiona had caught herself thinking that a family's name was clearly no pledge of grace...
And then, at the end, when the teller had offered to write Diana's name in her stead, the injustice had risen up in her so swiftly that she had nearly burst into tears.
So it was a play staged for my sake. What a remarkably clever child.
"Thank you, Lady Diana."
"Think nothing of it. I have your leave to sign, then?"
It was a voice entirely different from the one she'd used on the teller. Fiona, who could not see a face, came to know a person through the voice.
With the teller, she had sounded like an ignorant child; now she sounded like a noblewoman of true dignity — no, like one who stood at the very head of her house.
"Yes — if you would allow me, the honor would be entirely mine."
Fiona's head bowed of its own accord. Respect welled up within her, unbidden.
"Your bow is quite all right."
Diana hurriedly bent into a bow of her own, though Fiona could not see it. Then a brief stillness settled over them.
Diana filled out the papers, and Fiona looked out upon the bright future of House Ehrenberg.
"Here are the documents. Check them over thoroughly — see that nothing is missing."
The teller swept his eyes over the pages and set them to one side. Then he waited for Diana's next words. What mattered to him was not some disability allowance application.
"Keep up the good work."
Jenice stepped forward to attend to Fiona, and Diana turned away without a shred of regret. The teller shot to his feet and called after her.
"One moment, Lady Diana! The Dragon's Vow — what of it?"
Diana, who had been striding away at an easy, unhurried pace, stopped short.
"Oh, this? I might as well leave it here."
Diana lifted the Dragon's Vow high. Her gaze swept the room in a flash. Fortunately, no one of faint heart appeared to be present.
"On second thought, better to tear it up."
With a bright, crisp smile, Diana tore the Dragon's Vow in two.
"KYAAAAAAAH!"
"AAAAAAAAGH!"
Phoenix Bank spent a good long while in the throes of utter chaos.