“Jered, this is serious,” Cathy drawled, frowning at her boyfriend. Her arm twitched, but his ribcage was sadly not in elbowing reach even though he was sitting right next to her.



The wavy-haired man was bending forward so much that his forehead touched the top of the same table he was slapping with his right hand, chuckling to himself. “I’m just imagining their faces when Mercury drops that bit of news on them,” he said and promptly dissolved into another round of chuckles.



Ami, seated across from him, felt her cheeks starting to heat up. “I’m not seeing what’s so absurd about the notion,” she stated, pulling her arms closer to her chest.



“It’s, well, it’s unprecedented, at least,” Cathy said. “I’m assuming the Duke,” her eyes flicked over to an empty chair briefly, “knows what he’s talking about, so I’m not saying it’s impossible, but, given your situation, it sounds like it should be.”



“It’s not like it costs me anything to try,” Ami replied.



“That’s not exactly correct,” Jered objected. He rose to an upright position, his grin fading into a more business-like expression. “You may want to start thinking in terms of political capital,” he said. “While the Avatar might only be a little annoyed at your request for wasting his time if Duke Libasheshtan fails to convince him, you’ll definitely owe him a favour if he goes along with your plan.”



Ami nodded, accepting his point.



“More importantly though,” Cathy said, “what’s going to stop the dwarfs from continuing to ignore you? It’s not like they’ll want to talk to you just because it’s no longer legally impossible.”



Ami smiled. “Well, I’m hoping to make them believe that this will annoy me more than them.”





“… one saving grace is that trains can’t turn quickly, which helps us by keeping the required density of the detection grid lower than their size would suggest,” Duke Uzolgim said, adjusting his spectacles.



“Low enough to afford it?” Duke Cattenor asked while he continued frowning at the papers before him.



Duke Uzolgim hesitated. “If we prioritize it over everything else, yes,” he offered cautiously.



“That’s a ‘no’ then,” Cattenor sighed.



“We can’t not do anything about it!” Duke Alnisalath said loudly. “Troops moving undetected underground is a nightmare already; mobile dungeon hearts are so much worse!”



“Which is why we are scrying on the individual trains as a workaround,” Countess Lalimush said. “As long as we don’t miss any new ones she builds, it’s even somewhat workable.”



“And ties up wizards that would be much more useful keeping an eye on the other Keepers,” Duke Cattenor sighed. He looked up from his calculations for the first time. “Do we actually have any indications that Keeper Mercury is planning another attack in the near future?”



“Her building up an army of fluid monsters that would be perfect for slipping through our underground defences is a pretty strong hint,” Duke Omerreg pointed out.



“Can’t shift too many resources then,” Cattenor agreed with a pained nod.



King Ral lamented that this strategy meeting was shaping up to prove just as fruitless as the ones that came before it. From his place of honour at the head of the table, he swept his gaze over the long faces of the Dukes and Duchesses sitting with him.



So far, the collected nobles were proving themselves much better at emptying wine bottles than at coming up with viable plans. Looking down at his own blank list of suggestions, he forcibly fought down the urge to order a drink with a little more kick.



“Sire?” Someone called out in a low voice.



The elderly king turned his head towards the hooded wizard approaching him with a glowing crystal ball. Unexpected calls weren’t uncommon in times of war, but they usually meant dreadful news. “Put it over there,” King Ral sighed, pointing at a spot where the tablecloth was relatively free of maps and papers.



“At once, Sire,” the robed mage confirmed.



“Am I calling at a bad time?” the voice from the crystal ball asked barely a moment after the device had come to a rest.



“Lord Avatar!” King Ral’s posture straightened when he recognised the red-bearded face in the orb, his morose mood brightening. “Have you reconsidered? Are you going to assist us in this dark hour, after all?”



Around the table, the nobles leaned in closer, more attentive than they had been since the beginning of the meeting.



The Avatar raised an eyebrow. “If you are referring to Empress Mercury, then yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “However!” he added, pre-empting premature cheers, “My assistance will take a more indirect form than you are probably expecting.”



King Ral closed his mouth, his momentary elation dampened. “Any and all help will be warmly welcomed,” he said after a moment, “Though I find myself curious about what you mean with ‘indirect assistance’.”



“It’s very simple,” the Avatar said. “King Ral, Duchesses Ducimezar and Lalimush, Dukes Omerreg, Uzolgim, Cattenor and Alnisalath,” he nodded briefly in the direction of each of the nobles as he said their name. Now having their undivided attention, he proclaimed, “I am hereby officially appointing Duke Libasheshtan as Empress Mercury’s regent.”



King Ral felt his jaw fall open as he forgot to breathe for a moment. Stupefied, he stared at the crystal ball.



Not all of his council took the announcement as quietly. Amidst gasps and the sound of Duke Omerreg ripping one of his notes in two, there were shouts.



“WHAT?” Duke Alnisalath had shot to his feet so quickly that his chair fell over and made a muffled thudding noise on the thick carpet.



“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?” Duchess Ducimezar asked, quick as always to make her displeasure known.



“I am quite sane, I assure you,” the Avatar replied cheerfully, looking unperturbed.



King Ral felt his own ire rise. What was Amadeus thinking, raising their hopes only to dash them? Was this some kind of sick joke? Worse, if he were serious then he’d be adding legitimacy to that Keeper’s title!



“You can’t do that,” King Ral heard himself say.



“Underage; no liege; no vassals; no suitable family members,” the Avatar listed calmly, raising one finger with each point. “I most certainly can appoint an appropriate guardian in situation like those, rare as they may be.”



“That’s not-” King Ral began, but thought better of it. “All questions of appropriateness and authority aside, why would you do that?”



“Simple. If Mercury likes to play at being an Empress, then why should we spare her the inconveniences and obligations that come with such a title?”



“Because it would mean treating her like a legitimate noble!” Duke Alnisalath said with a scowl.



“Which is preposterous,” the King agreed. “She is a Keeper.”



The Avatar shrugged and let his gaze linger briefly on the empty suggestion sheets on the table. “I take it that you have a better option for making her life difficult, then? Or any at all?”



The resulting silence was answer enough.



“There you go then,” the Avatar continued. “I gave you a tool to put pressure on her where you had none before.”



King Ral forced down his anger enough to give the idea some serious consideration. His expression soured. “This plan of yours puts Duke Libasheshtan in a great amount of danger for nebulous benefits,” he said. “You are putting him in a position where he has to intentionally irritate and annoy the powerful Keeper who is holding him captive.”



“I doubt giving him some actual power, even if it’s dependent on Mercury’s willingness to play along, will increase the danger he’s in,” the Avatar said. “She apparently wants to be taken seriously as an empress, which means that she has to at least keep up the appearance of sticking to the rules.”



“I do like the idea of forcing her to expose her rule as the sham it is,” Duke Omerreg said, nodding along thoughtfully.



“Oh, can we have Thol just ground the brat until she’s of age?” Duchess Lalimush suggested with an eager grin.



The Avatar’s face in the crystal ball turned to shoot her a flat look. “I expect you would be disappointed by the results. She’s more than happy to stay with her books unless forced into action, as I have repeatedly pointed out before.”



King Ral snorted. The day he started to believe that the Dark Empress had an elaborate city conquest plan just lying around with no intention to use it was the day he’d abdicate due to senility. Unwilling to rehash the point, he asked instead, “Lord Avatar, why select Duke Libasheshtan for this role? Why the captive Duke of a nation she is at war with, rather than someone safer from her retribution?”



“Two reasons. The first is Salthalls. It’s the only one of Mercury’s current holdings that requires administration, and there’s nobody more qualified for the job than him. He’ll be in the best possible position to minimize further damage to the city and its inhabitants. The second reason is that it actually improves his safety.”



“Please elaborate,” King Ral prompted, his words sounding more sceptical than he intended to reveal.



“It turns him into an irreplaceable asset for Mercury. Someone who can make deals on behalf of her Empire without working directly for her. As the only available liaison with you, she’ll also have no choice about letting him regularly visit temples to stay in contact and prove that he remains uncompromised.”



King Ral frowned. The explanation made a twisted kind of sense, even if it offended his sensibilities. With a deep sigh, he nodded once. “I hate it, but it seems at least like a feasible course of action. Duke Cattenor, what’s your take on this?”



The Duke stopped leafing through his sheets. “I’m sure I can think of a few ways to hamper her war effort by keeping her busy with keeping up appearances,” he said, baring his teeth in a vicious grin.



“You seem to have things well in hand,” the Avatar commented. “Very well then. Please inform the Duke of his promotion at your earliest convenience.” He inclined his head briefly before his crystal ball went blank.



King Ral stroked his bushy white beard as he shifted to sit more comfortably and considered the… surprise… the Avatar had just ambushed them with. “So,” he said, dragging out the word, “what do you think? Are we better off pretending this never happened?”



The various nobles were quiet, unsure if he was jesting. He wasn’t really sure himself. Finally, Duke Omerreg spoke up “Distasteful as the concept may be, I think it offers opportunities to gain intelligence on the Dark Empress’ intentions. Tell me what you think of this plan...”





Gleaming forks, knives and spoons formed an elaborate arrangement around Ami’s plate. With some hesitation, she selected one of the more silvery-looking spoons and prepared to crack the cooked egg open.



“Close, but incorrect, your Imperial Majesty” Duke Libasheshtan interrupted with a stern look. He was seated to her right, directly across from Tiger to her left. “The egg-breaking ladle is the one over there.”



“Why are we doing this again?” Her adopted sister asked. Tiger’s slouched posture gained her another stern look from the Duke, which she ignored. Like Ami and the other women at the long table, she was wearing the dwarven version of a long evening dress. Imps positioned strategically around the room with the sole task of watching the diners prevented corruption-induced alterations in an unobserved moment.



“Because making sure that her Majesty or her sister don’t embarrass themselves by being ignorant of proper etiquette is part of my duties now,” the black-bearded dwarf replied, sounding resigned.



“And we just happen to be collateral damage?” Cathy asked. The swordswoman sat further down the table, across from Jered. Despite her words, she seemed to be actually enjoying the atmosphere.



“You are some of the more presentable members of her Majesty’s forces, and thus may be required to appear at public functions. It would, therefore, be wasteful not to have you sit in on these lessons,” Duke Libasheshtan explained.



Ami glanced up at the figures sitting past Snyder and Torian. Her gaze briefly lingered on Jadeite, who looked quite dashing in the dwarven style formal shirt and vest. Snyder, wearing something similar, appeared less comfortable without his acolyte robes. No, never mind, that seemed to be Venna’s fault. If the Duke could see under the table what the dark elf was doing to the redhead with her foot, he would certainly have reprimanded her.



Further down the table, Torian was the only one who had forgone the dwarf-inspired formal style. The head warlock had opted for stiff black robes with wide silver trim instead, proudly displaying his mastery symbols on the opulent cloth. He visibly perked up at the mention of possible promotions.



Unlike him, the warlocks and dark elves she was less familiar with sat stiffly in their seats, their expressions rigid. Some of their pasty faces gleamed with sweat. Only the youma Landra provided a dash of green colour among the general pallor.



Ami could understand their unease to a degree. The prospect of more prominent positions didn’t exactly balance out her own presence. Nobody wanted to mess up in front of the boss, especially when said boss was an Empress and worse, a Keeper.



Perhaps they would feel more comfortable if she gave them more context on what was going on? “I certainly wasn’t expecting the dwarfs’ first demand to be a gala to publicly announce your new position as Regent of my empire,” she told the Duke.



“They are testing the waters,” the dwarf replied. “That’s why they are asking for a relatively tiny concession that’s still inconvenient and will waste your time.”



“Wanting to laugh at her for being an ill-mannered peasant unfamiliar with the etiquette doesn’t factor into it at all, I’m sure,” Cathy commented, apparently unconcerned that her grip on her wine glass was not perfectly traditional.



“We should just make our own,” Tiger moaned. “Etiquette I mean. Our empire doesn’t have an established tradition yet, so whatever the Empress says goes, right? She’d define what was appropriate and formal, even if it was something involving racy-”



“Tiger, no!” Ami interrupted quickly, shaking her head.



“That’s quite enough, your Highness,” Duke Libasheshtan said. “The idea is to not offend the other party. Besides, as the acting Regent, it would still be up to me to set the empire’s standards.”



The striped youma narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t protest.



“Your Majesty, if I may?” Torian broke the momentary silence. “This seems like as good an opportunity as any to clarify a point I am confused about. What does the chain of command looks like now that it includes Duke Libasheshtan? Are we supposed to take orders from him, or...” he trailed off, looking rather dubious about the arrangement.



Some of the other employees at leaned in closer in interest.



“You continue to take your orders directly from me,” Ami answered. There was no way she would allow her enemies that much influence over her armed forces. “Technically speaking, all of you are my mercenaries and not citizens or soldiers of my empire. As such, he has no direct authority over you.”



Torian nodded, and so did some of the people seated farther away. “I see. Thank you for answering my question to my fullest satisfaction, your Majesty.” He directed a smug smile in the Duke’s direction.



“However,” Ami continued, “You will have to keep in mind that he is also in charge of upholding the laws of the empire, so if you broke them, he would be within his rights to have you dealt with accordingly.”



The warlock raised an eyebrow. “I assume those situations are purely hypothetical as we don’t have an official code of law yet?”



She paused for a moment, considering. “For now. That’s not a sustainable state though. There will need to be clear rules when more and more of the locals return to sanity.”



“They will be used to the previous laws, your Imperial Majesty,” Duke Libasheshtan pointed out. “It would cause the least disruption to simply carry them over, with adequate adaptations for your particular situation, of course.”



“It would be a lot of work to ensure no loopholes that could be used against me remain,” Ami noted. “Slow, painstaking work.” She winced when another thought struck her. “The dwarfs will be pushing for this, won’t they?”



Jered nodded. “Yep. Citing rule of law as a prerequisite for diplomatic deals to stall any progress while still appearing reasonable sounds like just the kind of thing they would do.”



Ami sighed. “Right. I will-” she stopped and turned to the dwarf sitting to her right. “Or rather, Duke Libasheshtan will have to hire some professionals to work out the details on behalf of the empire.”



“You want to trust lawyers with this?” the Duke asked, sounding bemused. “I suppose that’s feasible, with sufficient supervision. I can contact a few reliable ones when I go prepare the gala.”



“In your southern holdings, right.” Jered said. No diplomats wanted to visit Salthalls for obvious reasons. “I’ll need the exact location and timetable as soon as you have made the arrangements so I can make some of my own.”



“Additional security?” the Duke asked. “I hardly see a reason for that. Who in their right mind would want to get into a fight with the Empress after recent events?”



“You misunderstand,” Jered waved his hand. “I simply intend to make sure that the event will receive sufficient public attention. It would be unfortunate if the dwarfs decided that things with the regency weren’t going the way they liked, and therefore pretended that it never happened.”



Duke Libasheshtan blinked, but didn’t deny that the possibility existed. “Fine, but that will raise expectations. The absence of the fairy ambassador in anything but pristine condition would raise concerns about the safety of future diplomats, for example.”



Ami leaned forward. “Torian, I told you a while ago to search for the fairy sisters?”



“Indeed you did,” the head warlock confirmed. “I am aware of their location and foresee no notable difficulties in collecting them.” His toothy smile wavered a little. “Though there is something a little odd going on with one of them.”