Like a Dog

"Then I'll go and see to the delivery."

Sienna watched Allan's back as he withdrew with every courtesy intact. Off to make more morphine, no doubt. A thousand thalers a gram? Even for a princess, the figure dragged a hollow laugh out of her.

The price had not come from nowhere. Turning opium into morphine shrank its weight to less than ten percent, and other ingredients went into the work as well, though she had no idea what they were. Even so, gouging was gouging. Hand over the morphine already in stock, refine the raw opium heaped in the warehouse on top of it, and sixty million thalers would drop into their hands at the very least. Nor would that be the end. So long as the imperial army endured, the profit would keep coming—an achievement difficult to believe of a man with two slaves at his side. No. Two employees.

And yet the man himself is perfectly calm.

He had built an enormous fortune in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠less than a month and could still look that unbothered, as if he had foreseen the whole affair. Nor was money the only thing he met with detachment. When Sienna, scheming on her own, had uncovered the interaction between lemon and psilocybin, Allan had not looked startled. He had only worn the face of a man thinking So it's come, and let a faint weariness show.

How far ahead was he really looking? And how much more did he have hidden away? There was no knowing. What she knew for certain was what she herself had to do.

"I'll have to grow my own power."

She needed to become a master worthy of so formidable a retainer. Allan would not turn on her merely because he had made some money. He was a knight who had pledged his loyalty and offered up his sword besides. But once the military supply contract was announced, Allan—and Madoff Pharmaceuticals, founded under his name—stood every chance of drawing the eye of the entire empire. Businessmen tempted by morphine's potential, and Victoria and her circle, who had surely already taken a liking to him, would begin to gather around. His infamy would fade a little at a time, until one day they simply treated him as a successful man of business.

And the larger he grows, the harder he'll be to control with my own power.

She had to build her influence before his weight class rose, enough to shield the asset named Allan from any unsavory approach that might come his way. No. Enough that Allan himself would feel no need to join hands with any other faction. For that, she needed a foundation. She already had a plan. The execution began now.

"Have Oliver come in."

The moment the order left her lips, a servant appeared, limping. It was the one Allan had beaten—one knee ruined, every front tooth gone. He was not quite a cripple, but his gait was still plainly uneasy. He wanted to live, though. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The instant he saw Sienna he bowed and scraped, smiling.

"You."

"Yeth, Your Highneth…!"

"You still hold a grudge against Allan, don't you? Against me as well, of course."

"Wh-what are you thaying!"

The wretched servant looked ready to have a fit. Sienna raised a hand, unhurried.

"I have a job for you. I'm not looking to do you harm."

"…Ah."

"From this moment on, you harbor a grudge against Allan. He didn't stop at leaving you half a cripple. Every time he's seen you since, he's mocked you. That's your reason. …And now word is that same Allan is about to get rich off a military contract? The rage boiled over, and on impulse you stole the method for making morphine."

"Isth there… thomething you want me to do?"

"It's simple. Quietly tell the people I name that you've taken the morphine formula, and that you're willing to sell it."

"Who do I tell."

"Former Earl Dryden. Former Earl Downshire. Former Viscount Draghead."

All of them had been spent as cannon fodder when Anais raised her poisoning allegations. At their leader's own petition their titles had already been stripped, and a perfunctory trial would soon confiscate part of their estates as well. By now they were surely drowning in the sense of having been cast off. Anais ought to have looked after them, but she was in no position to look after anyone.

Tell them they can get their hands on information about morphine, and they'll come running with their eyes rolled back. A proposal from the servant Allan beat half to ruin will even sound credible.

The servant looked thoroughly unwilling. He was no doubt wondering whether he was being used as bait and sent to his death. Sienna decided to give him a reason.

"Do it now. Within a few days I'll ask the Saintess to have your injuries treated. The offering, of course, comes out of my pocket."

"……!"

His face brightened in an instant. Amusing, considering that the one who had truly ruined his leg was Sienna herself. But people had always been creatures governed by punishment and reward. Run an errand and have your leg mended—there was no reason to refuse. With his motivation secured, she gave him his instructions in detail. The work of hooking her younger sister Anais's faction. Snaring people already flailing because their leader had been thoroughly broken was entertaining in itself, but she was not doing it for the entertainment.

Two days later, at dawn.

"They're all inside. Eight of them."

The moment her guard knight Erica made the report, Sienna let out a short laugh. She stood near an apothecary on the outskirts of the Imperial Capital. Inside the building, people who followed Anais—or once had—were packed together. Three had taken the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bait she cast. Five more they had spawned of their own accord and brought along. They had gathered in one place, of course, for morphine.

These were the ones tempted by the offer Sienna had sent through her servant. The name morphine had already spread quietly across the Imperial Capital. The nobles who had followed Anais were, for the most part, men of trade and finance, and their attachment to money ran deeper than most. A drug priced at a thousand thalers a gram had appeared in the world, and no merchant alive could stay cold before it. Perhaps because she had hooked them once already, they had been lukewarm at first.

Promise them a demonstration, and they come running after all. Eight of them, no less.

Was money really that sweet? Of course it was. A moment later Sienna stepped lightly into the apothecary, two guard knights at her side.

"Your Highness…?"

Eight pairs of eyes turned on her. Some had stood vacant-eyed beside her when she ground Anais underfoot; others had not. Their stations varied as well, from a man who modestly owned a single ship all the way to the chairman of the stock exchange. What they shared was the way every one of them went pale at the sight of her. Sienna savored the uncomfortable standoff for a while before she spoke.

"Last time you tried to stain my honor with a baseless tale of poisoning… and now you mean to ruin even the company I've sunk a fortune into. Why do you hate me this much?"

"Your Highness! Not this way again…!"

"Again? So you've stolen before?"

"Hah…!"

Rage and panic fought across their faces as the nobles stamped in place. A decent spectacle in its own right. Sienna felt the trip had been worth it.

"Princess Sienna?"

A middle-aged man stepped forward then, comparatively composed. Earl Soan. The biggest fish among those she had hooked this time.

"Speak."

"It would seem we've walked into a trap once again. At the words morphine formula, our judgment must have clouded for a moment. …But, Your Highness. A maneuver of this kind will do you harm as well. However exalted you may be."

He was not wrong. Attacking the same faction twice, and in much the same way, did rather show one's hand. She could force the matter through sheer power, but then not a single noble would ever come near her again. That, however, was no concern of hers.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not here to punish you on the spot. Anais is already in that state. What good would it do me to go out of my way and stamp on her followers? Earl Soan. As you say, it would only damage my reputation."

"Then…"

"I came to see your faces with my own two eyes. To remember which vermin were sniffing after my interests."

"……."

"The measures can wait until later, can't they?"

Meaning she would set them down on a kill list now and pick them off one by one when it suited her. Fortunately, no one seemed to have missed the point. Nor did anyone seem ignorant of what it would take to come off that list.

"Your Highness, could it be… that you want our support?"

"I don't want anything so grand as support. Support means forming a faction, and a faction is a relationship in which interests are shared. I have no intention of sharing any interest with you. Why would I, with people who came sniffing after morphine?"

"Then…"

"……."

"In exchange, I'll guarantee your lives. More or less."

Follow, or be marked and die slowly. Faced with the choice she offered, the nobles grew anxious and did nothing but watch one another's eyes. One of them found the courage to ask whether she might grant them time to confer among themselves. Sienna sneered and shook her head.

"I have nothing to lose."

After she delivered that verdict—

"Your Highness!"

One of the nobles who had been hesitating, reading the room, dropped to his knees and cried out. She had not even demanded a show of submission. Once someone knelt of his own accord, the rest could only feel the pressure.

"Like dogs… we will follow, Your Highness."

In the end, not even a minute passed before all eight were on their knees. Until now Sienna had made do with a handful of ruined nobles and set them to running gambling dens. This was the first moment she placed men of respectable standing beneath her. Men who had followed her younger sister, no less. Ordinarily that alone would have given her considerable pleasure. Subordinates won by bait and blackmail, yes—but people were only as useful as the use one made of them. Stir them into tearing at one another, deliberately hand them some modest chance to earn merit and then reward them, and beat them when they stepped out of line. That was all the training required.

A success. And yet, strangely, it stirs very little.

Nothing thrilled her like toying with people. So why did this feel flat? Sienna knew the reason well enough. She already kept a retainer worth far more than all of them put ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠together. Set beside Allan, other people simply looked shabby.