A Newly Established Department (1)

It had unfolded exactly as I expected. The Empire had framed Kalman and me for the attempted assassination of First Prince Raphael.

What I found interesting was the feudal system that loosely bound the Empire together. If this had been the Central Plains, defying the Emperor would have been beyond imagining. The Emperor was the Son of Heaven, ruling the mortal world by Heaven's mandate.

Under feudalism, however, an emperor was merely the head of a household slightly grander than the rest. Which meant that even if the Emperor wished to strike down me, Iden Esterji, he might fail to raise a sufficient army unless the other nobles rallied behind him.

Just as they had never aided my father, who fought alone his entire life.

My chest tightened whenever I thought of him. Personally, I respected my father, but the duchy under my rule would be an entirely different beast. I intended to use every resource given to me without hesitation, whether it was people or things.

"It is an honor to meet you, Duke Iden."

A middle-aged man with a shallow, crafty face rose from his seat, hands clasped together. I sank deep into a sofa upholstered in monster leather.

"You've come up in the world, Adras."

"Hardly through any merit of my own, my lord. It is all thanks to your gracious patronage."

Adras had struck out on his own from under Lucian and founded a trading company bearing his own name. This office was its headquarters.

"Business treating you well?"

The room glittered with antiques and costly curios, as though advertising how well the business was doing.

"I earn enough to get by, haha."

"Hard, running it all yourself?"

Adras's eyes rolled this way and that.

"Let's see. You only just opened for business, so you haven't recouped your investment yet. And you must have spent a fortune buying up a noble surname."

"Surely one gains nothing without risking something."

"Is that why you staked such a mountain of money at the gambling tables? In the spirit of taking risks?"

"How could you possibly..."

Adras's jaw hung open.

"I have my ways."

Lucian had told me. About how Adras had bet on Uld losing at the martial tournament and nearly ruined himself for it.

"Even now I cannot sleep when I think of it. Who could have imagined Lady Elisa, daughter of a marquis, would lose to a nameless commoner swordswoman?"

"Life is entertaining precisely because it can't be predicted."

"I'm sure it's great fun for you. It's agony for me."

Adras said it gloomily. As a merchant, I rated his abilities highly. Still, Lucian would have put his money on Uld, not Elisa.

Eight years ago, Lucian had passed over the elder brothers and bet on me, the underdog. The difference between Lucian and Adras came down to the ability to read people.

"I could help you out."

"You mean to clamp shackles on me. You would hardly offer help for free."

Adras's shoulders sagged.

"I do like how quickly you catch on."

I smiled.

"It's a simple matter. You take Oradium ingots and sell them on my behalf. The freight and the brokerage fees are yours to keep."

"Oradium, the hottest commodity in Esterji territory. No, I should say the hottest commodity in the Empire. Trading houses have worn the doorstep of your ducal residence thin trying to get their hands on even a sliver of that metal they say outvalues gold."

"Congratulations, Adras. It's your job now."

"If Lord Lucian ever taught me one thing, it was this: when the terms are too good, begin by suspecting them."

"You learned that lesson well."

I leaned forward on the arm of the sofa.

"My demands are simple. Whatever information you gather while opening trade routes, you report to me, promptly and in full."

"What manner of information?"

"Information of use to me. Who leans toward the Emperor, who nurses treacherous thoughts, who brims with grievances."

"You wish me to serve as your informant, my lord?"

"To put it precisely, I intend to make your trading company the intelligence organization under my command."

In a single day, Adras had shaken the central nobles' corruption loose to the last coin. Thanks to him, I had become the rat who tattled to Mabel about my sister-in-law's family.

Adras had no eye for reading people, but his talent for tracing the currents of information was beyond rival. It was no accident Lucian had made him a confidant.

"Information is money. You agree with that, I trust?"

"Need you even ask?"

"Information becomes power, too. You will have heard the imperial family is moving to drive me out. But there will be no war just yet. To strike us, they would need the consent of at least four of the Seven Pillars of the Empire."

"A fierce war of information, then."

"Just so."

"And if need be, should I run opinion campaigns as well?"

"Tell anyone who asks that it rests with the new Director of the Information Bureau."

In other words, I was asking him to head the bureau. Adras's body had already tilted toward me. That meant interest.

"Might I ask one thing?"

"Anything."

"Why me, and not Lord Lucian?"

"Because you're easier to handle."

Adras burst ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out laughing.

"A reason I can accept. Very well."

He said it while twisting his beard this way and that.

"As I said, I too have put down roots in the North. I cannot pretend not to hear the call of House Esterji. But I am a merchant until the day I die. The thought of counting coin delights me more than the thought of receiving a title. If you would guarantee me autonomy in the running of my company—"

"The company is yours, Adras."

"Thank you, my lord."

Adras bowed low and deep.

A scarlet flame leapt fiercely to life. The fire climbed to the ceiling and roared, then was swiftly drowned by a sudden torrent of water.

"Whew."

The blue-haired boy opened his eyes and exhaled a long breath. Before him, water-soaked firewood lay heaped in a mound.

"Your Rain-Summoning Art has come a long way, Laszlo."

Laszlo turned around, dimples carved deep into his cheeks.

"Master!"

"It's about time you moved on to the next stage."

"It is all thanks to your fine teaching, Master."

Over the past three years, Laszlo had achieved tremendous things in the Daoist arts. He now stood at a level where he could cross blades with a Senior Knight and hold his own.

The amusing part was that among the Five Elements Arts, Laszlo grasped water-attribute techniques faster than any other. He learned them quickly, and their power far outstripped the rest.

No one attains mastery in every field. Learn enough different arts and a specialty inevitably emerges. Excel at illusion and you become an illusionist; excel at fire-shadow arts and you become a fire mage.

Laszlo had been born with the makings of a water mage. Where water-attribute arts alone were concerned, he was material capable of surpassing even me.

"By the way."

"Yes, Master?"

"That child is still at it, I see."

A small child was hiding in Laszlo's shadow. Aware of me now, the boy shrank further into himself.

Three years ago, Laszlo had returned from Count Abaro's domain with the abused captives he had rescued. Most of them had taken money from Laszlo and gone off in search of their freedom. One alone had not. That tiny child had clung to Laszlo like a burr for three years running.

"There were reasons. I... forgive me, this is terribly presumptuous of me to say, but..."

"Say it."

"From what I have heard, his father was peculiarly obsessed with this child. He called him the weapon that would assassinate Lord Drek, they say. Perhaps that is why the brainwashing inflicted on him was far crueler than what the others suffered."

"This little runt was the weapon meant to kill my father?"

"Yes."

Laszlo dropped his head, embarrassed.

Count Abaro did in fact have a history of attempting my assassination. The assassin he had sent back then had felt, truly, like a living weapon.

This small child, not yet ten, was said to be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the finest of the assassins the Count had raised, yet nothing about his appearance suggested any such capacity.

"What was his Awoken Ability again?"

"I don't know. That much he will not tell even me."

"...I see."

The little one tugged discreetly at Laszlo's sleeve. The longer our talk ran, the more I seemed to unsettle him.

"Watch him closely. See that he stays out of trouble."

"Understood."

The boy's mind looked fragile, but the Laszlo of today could mind one child without breaking a sweat.

Having taught Laszlo his techniques, I returned to the ducal residence. The moment I opened the office door, Lily was there to greet me.

"Young Master, a letter has come for you. They tied it to an eagle's ankle and sent it that way."

She handed me the tightly rolled letter.

So read the envelope.

"He has such a terribly long name, doesn't he?"

Lily said with a smile.

"He's the one who abandoned his woman and ran off not long ago, isn't he?"

"He is."

I opened the letter. Stripped of its diplomatic rhetoric, it amounted to this:

"So that's how it stands."

I showed the letter to Lily.

"Is holding onto Isolde bad for my reputation?"

"It is a rather delicate situation."

Lily laughed, troubled.

"Your engagement ceremony with Lady Uld has already been postponed twice, and in the meantime a southern beauty far too lovely has appeared. And that beauty is being lavishly entertained in a tower, not a dungeon."

I had confined her in a tower rather than a prison because housing a powerful Awoken demanded a spacious facility. Even so, I could see how the circumstances might invite misunderstanding.

"I suppose I ought to collect the ransom."

I had already wrung from Isolde the information I needed. Above all, I did not want Uld getting the wrong idea. I could not ruin the relationship before it had properly begun.

Uld already carried her origins like a wound. If she heard a scandal like this, I could picture her wilting: Of course. How could an orphan raised as I was ever become the Duke's companion?

The letter's closing lines were a blush-worthy outpouring of his longing for Isolde. I had never guessed that butcher had such a lover's streak in him.

Letter in hand, I made for the tower where Isolde was held. She sat in a chair, combing her curls.

"Isolde. A letter for you."

"I have no interest in any letter the Duke did not write himself."

Isolde said it with her eyes half-lidded, languid and inviting. She looked every inch the fox of the old tales. You know the kind, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ones said to bewitch a man and eat his liver.

"You'll be interested. It's from someone who wants you freed."

"I prefer being locked up by you, my lord."

"Spare me. Take it."

Isolde took the letter. She snorted at every line she read, and when she reached the end, she tore it to ribbons.

"Not even funny. He should have treated me well while he still had me."

"I intend to free you, Isolde."

"And how much will you charge?"

"King Sandor has offered ten million bhat."

"Ha!"

Isolde shot up from her chair. Fury had reached the very roots of her hair.

"That worthless cur of a man. Ten million bhat? So that's all I was ever worth to him?"

I swallowed the remark that ten million bhat seemed like quite a great deal indeed. Isolde was genuinely beside herself. She swung her fists at empty air, hurling curses in what I took to be the southern tongue. After a good long while of it, she came to me and gripped the bars.

"Give that stingy little bastard this message: one hundred million, not a coin less. And if he cannot pay, tell him to get lost."

I could pass that along.

Though I did wonder: was the hostage really the one who should be negotiating her own ransom?