Isabella
A few days later, a single dragon spawn arrived from Iorga’s side.
“Good day. I am Isabella Iorga, sent on assignment. I have come to take up administrative duties at Baldrova Castle starting today.”
As befitting a descendant of Iorga, the pair of horns on her forehead were rounded and unthreatening. Her gaze was sharp, her every movement crisp with discipline; one look was enough to mark her as the sort of strict housemistress who brooked no nonsense.
Word had come that a spawn would be posted here, yet one detail on the paperwork did not match.
“I was told the spawn arriving would be named Yuria.”
“I volunteered in Yuria’s place. Rest assured— as Master Erika’s chief secretary, I pride myself on being far superior to her in the execution of any task. Within the tower they call me the ruthless secretary.”
Isabella pushed her glasses higher with a solemn air. Self-assurance rolled off her in waves, yet whether that confidence was earned remained to be proven. The arrogance of dragon spawns was already a familiar commodity.
“Very well. Understood.”
“The alliance proclamation is scheduled for one week from now. It will rest upon a document personally signed by Lord Blancaros and will be announced across the entire Serdes Continent. Do you have any questions?”
“Master Erika already informed me of that in writing, so I have no particular concerns.”
“Understood. Please review the alliance terms intended for the Master and affix your seal.”
Because the document was critical, Ferda examined every character before pressing the official seal into the wax. He thought that was the end of it—until another sheaf of papers landed squarely before him.
“This is the consent form for the authorities required of an administrator. It is a power of attorney transferring judicial and tax-collection rights to me, as well as the discretion to decide upon subcontracting whenever administrative necessity demands it…”
In short, the great matters—tax levies, enforcement of law, diplomacy—would still require Ferda’s personal approval. Lesser affairs, petty disputes, the management of collection officers and the like, she would handle herself as administrator.
“All documents concerning the transfer of authority are complete.”
“Is that everything?”
“It is only the beginning. We must carefully review the castle’s security classifications. Aside from permanent staff, every day laborer and unranked worker will be removed from the grounds. Furthermore—”
They spent the next stretch discussing the castle’s internal administration. Points Ferda had already altered after speaking with Mori were now weighed for practicality; Isabella spoke fluently of efficiency and outward appearance, steadily persuading him.
When the conversation on castle affairs finally wound down, Isabella glanced toward the window. Below lay a forest utterly silent of beast-song.
“I had heard the reports, yet it truly seems Baldrova Castle has no city beneath its walls.”
“Ordinary folk find it hard to live here, or so I am told.”
“Where do you intend to house the adventurers?”
“Count Consiler’s territory should suffice, should it not?”
“A poor idea.”
Isabella’s reply was ice-cold.
“To forge national power, population comes before capital or grain. We must begin designing a city in this vicinity capable of accommodating adventurers.”
“I was told commoners cannot easily live near this place. You appear to be overlooking that.”
“Only if there are no experts capable of wielding magic. I will request that Blue Eye dispatch mages to maintain the magic circles. Since this is employment, I shall prepare a budget for forming an entire magic company and submit it for approval. Once the unease caused by Dragon Fear is resolved, this city will be fit even to serve as a capital.”
A capital…
Olivia Arken had spoken those same words. She had wished this place to become a second capital. One day it might, yet was it not still too soon?
“What of the Empire’s interference?”
“That is the talk of people who refuse to make soy sauce for fear of maggots. They will not dare act rashly. Adventurers will gather in the Land of Evil, and that gathering will naturally form a city—that is the natural order of things. With the stated purpose of an eastern campaign, any attempt to block us will only provoke open resistance from Iorga’s side.”
The Empire might have regarded Baldrova as little more than a watchdog until now, yet Iorga was a mage faction whose influence spanned the continent. Their promise of proper support satisfied Ferda.
“We will need to secure trading houses. I see the Regent has already drawn one in—Pascal Trading Company, correct?”
“Correct.”
“A single large firm is not enough. Even if we leave the western houses alone, we must foster vigorous trade with the north and south as well.”
“In that case I ought to speak with Stefan.”
“As administrator, I shall handle it. I am confident we can reach a satisfactory understanding with Pascal Trading Company as well.”
“Do so.”
And still the torrent continued—road reorganization, investment funds, donations, urban-planning strategies. Ferda had thought himself reasonably studied in such matters, yet before Isabella he was a mere drop of blood beside the ocean. She poured forth fresh ideas without pause, linking strategies one after another and deploying everything Ferda possessed in precisely the right places.
She truly deserves the title of chief secretary.
No rhetorical flourishes, only the essentials summarized and delivered. Crucial issues she met with firmness; petty ones she handled with flexibility, always underscoring practical gain.
I thought I was settling for a chicken instead of a pheasant, yet a phoenix has descended.
She was an asset one could trust—so trustworthy it was almost frightening.
Why would such a talent come to this castle?
That was what puzzled Ferda. Had Yuria arrived, he would have assumed Erika ordered it. Isabella had volunteered. Iorga’s descendants were dragon spawns; an unshakable pride that they were different ran in their blood. Pride in Blue Eye, the tower Iorga herself had founded, was especially fierce—they loathed leaving it. Being posted to Baldrova Castle was effectively exile. What reason could such a capable secretary have for choosing banishment?
While he was still turning the question over, Isabella finished organizing the documents she had spread out.
“For now we shall leave the outline at this level and draft the full roadmap together later. Let us end today’s work lightly here. You have worked hard.”
“Yes. Well done.”
“May I ask one question?”
Isabella inquired with her usual solemn expression.
“Does the Regent enjoy drink?”
“I never touch it.”
Ferda’s blunt refusal made Isabella’s body give a tiny flinch. The woman who had been speaking so fluently now showed clear fluster.
“I ought to have confirmed this earlier—there is not, by chance, a prohibition order currently in force within this castle?”
“Nothing of the sort. I simply do not drink.”
“I see. Confirmed.”
Relief flooded her face at once. Something about that reaction grated on Ferda, so he turned the question back on her.
“Do you enjoy drink?”
“Only a little. The glass after work is rather special.”
“Hmm. I see.”
Race might differ, yet a mage was a mage. A mage’s friends were wine and women. He could overlook both; one of them was certainly permissible.
Knock, knock.
Someone rapped and entered the office. It was the girl in maid’s uniform—Ruri.
“Lord Ferda, at the castle gate— wait?”
Whatever errand had brought her, her eyes locked onto Isabella the moment she spotted her.
“So you are the one dispatched for Lady Baldrova this time.”
Ruri’s brow furrowed as she strode toward Isabella. She stopped three paces short; the difference in their heights was plain to the eye. Yet Ruri refused to be cowed and launched a silent contest of wills.
“Since you arrived only today, I will speak plainly. No one in this castle has served longer than I. If you remove or replace any item without my consent, you will not avoid friction.”
The atmosphere was deadly serious. Should anyone so much as touch her belongings, she looked ready to start a war.
To Ferda it appeared somewhat different.
Like a dog marking its territory.
Prejudice was a terrifying thing. All he saw was a Chihuahua yapping for all it was worth.
Isabella looked down at her. Rational light kindled in her eyes as she spoke.
“Small and compact…”
“Excuse me?”
Isabella adjusted her glasses with her middle finger and continued in a tone so cold it was as though the previous words had never been uttered.
“I was informed that you, Ruri Silverwind, oversee every aspect of management within these walls.”
“That is correct.”
“Henceforth I shall address you as Miss Ruri. In cleanliness you exceed even the standards of our magic tower. In administrative affairs, however, the situation is five minutes from total collapse. Far too many practices fail to serve efficiency or practical gain.”
“Such pedantry does not suit a dragon’s dignity.”
“It must be considered nonetheless. Among confirmed dragons, Lady Baldrova possesses the least wealth. It is enough to make one despair of the budget one originally intended to secure.”
“So you are dissatisfied?”
“Not dissatisfied so much as convinced that proper asset management is required.”
The remark about scant wealth stung, yet Ruri could not refute it. Baldrova had never cared for rare treasures.
“There will be changes within the castle for the sake of administrative reform, but beforehand I shall seek Miss Ruri’s understanding. May we proceed on that basis?”
“So long as you do that much, I have no objection.”
“Understood. Then I shall take my leave. Until tomorrow, Regent Ferda.”
“Very well.”
The click of her heels rang against the marble. With the elegant gait befitting the chief secretary of the lofty Blue Eye, she withdrew.
Ruri watched that retreating back with a look of pure distaste.
“That woman is unpleasant.”
“Jealous, are you?”
“Why would I be jealous of those water lizards? I simply find her disagreeable.”
When Isabella had looked at her, Ruri had felt a strange sensation—victory that somehow did not feel like victory. The odd discomfort stemmed from the gaze behind those glasses.
Ferda, of course, paid it no mind. He merely assumed she was jealous.
“So you came to mark your territory?”
“Please do not speak of me as though I were some stray dog prowling the neighborhood. The headmaster of Escoleia has arrived.”
The headmaster of Escoleia. In return for saving his life, Ferda had been promised the blueprints for equipment that predicted demonic manifestations. Busy with greater matters, he had not pressed, yet the man had not forgotten.
“He has come a long way. First see that he is properly received. Tell him I will meet him in two hours.”
“Understood.”
Ruri withdrew. Ferda meant to take a brief respite, yet another matter awaited. On his desk the crystal orb inscribed with communication magic was blinking—someone was attempting contact. Ferda laid his hand upon the crystal and received the transmission.
Hello, Regent Ferda.
It was Erika Iorga.
“Yes, Master Iorga.”
You won’t cut the call short this time, will you?
“If you wish, I can end it this instant.”
Don’t be so cold. We’re about to be allies, aren’t we? I’ve received the documents confirming the alliance terms.
“Is that why you called?”
Among other reasons. It wasn’t Yuria who went, was it?
“No. A woman named Isabella.”
Yes, that’s right. How is she? If she doesn’t suit you, I can send Yuria as originally planned.
Something about her eagerness to reclaim her chief secretary sparked an instinctive refusal.
“No need. She is precisely the sharp, decisive talent we require.”
True, she is excellent at her work. After all, she is my chief secretary. She was so interested in practical affairs that she once slipped off to Escoleia under an alias and earned a doctorate. But…
A long sigh drifted through the link.
“Is there a problem?”
No. Let’s not speak of it. Better you learn slowly. She isn’t a bad child, after all.
Because she was perfect in her duties—muttering that only made him more curious. What on earth was wrong with the woman that Erika would speak so? Annoying, yet clearly nothing that would hinder her work.
As agreed, the proclamation will take place in a week. You have that much time, so please prepare thoroughly.
“Understood.”
Then, for the sake of our alliance, I shall be in touch often.
Erika’s voice carried the suggestion of a smile as the transmission ended.
A week until the proclamation…
Beginning was half the battle. Ferda foresaw a mountain of paperwork. It would be a headache, yet not an unwelcome one. All of it was for Baldrova’s sake.
He looked out the window. For now the forest was a tangled mass of trees. In time it would be filled with buildings and with people. Streets would throng with folk and carriages in constant motion, and they would sing Baldrova’s name and praise her.
Therefore Ferda would endure this hardship—for the sake of his one and only fiancée.