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Memoirs 329 - Official prospects
🕑 Added 2025-01-30 22:46:05 +0000 UTC“My apologies for not receiving you at our originally agreed-upon time,” Scarlett said, lifting a delicate porcelain cup of winter mint tea to her lips, the blend expertly prepared by Garside. “It is unfortunate that you were preoccupied both yesterday and the day before, but I trust we can finally reach an agreement today.”
“That is…quite alright, Baroness,” the man seated across from her replied, his tone carefully measured. He wore a crisp navy-black uniform adorned with the gold insignia of the Imperial Surveyors, his posture rigid, both hands neatly folded in his lap. “Lady Withersworth assured me you had pressing matters to attend to. Besides, preparations for the Barrier Pylons in Freybrook are still underway, so we remain well within the acceptable timeframe despite a few delays.”
From her own seat on a nearby couch, Lady Withersworth offered a warm smile, sipping her own tea with unhurried ease.
“Ah, before we proceed, allow me to introduce my colleague,” the surveyor said, gesturing to the grey-robed man beside him. The balding wizard, his round spectacles glinting under the light of the chandelier hanging above. “This is Rogelio, a Docent Wizard from the Ustrum Assembly. He has been assigned as the mage assessor for the Freybrook site selections.”
Rogelio offered a small nod. “Baroness Hartford. I have heard of you. It is an honour to finally make your acquaintance.”
Scarlett returned the nod. “Likewise.” She then refocused her attention on the surveyor, who was the head of the Imperial Surveyors overseeing the Freybrook region.
A short distance behind him, by the large windows overlooking the snow-covered rear of the estate, Fynn stood, his sharp gaze never straying from their guests. Though he hadn’t said anything, his intense scrutiny had clearly unsettled them when they first arrived. Scarlett had reassured them that he was harmless, but she couldn’t exactly fault them for their unease.
She was fairly certain Fynn wouldn’t stir up any trouble. That said, he had been somewhat on edge ever since she returned a few days earlier from her meeting with the other Scarlett, which he’d—somehow—figured out just by looking at her. Convincing him that everything was fine had taken some effort, and she doubted she’d be able to move without his watchful eye for the foreseeable future.
Which, all things considered, was probably for the best.
“Now then, if you don’t mind, Baroness, I believe it would be best to dispense with further pleasantries and move straight to the matter at hand,” the surveyor said, fixing his gaze on her. “As you are already aware, the Imperial Office of Barrier Works has been established as the provisional body overseeing the planning, construction, and enchantment of the Empyreal Barrier. Our role as imperial surveyors is to identify and evaluate suitable sites for the Barrier’s pylons, as well as determine the necessary structural reinforcements and arcane adjustments required for their timely construction.”
“I am aware,” Scarlett replied.
“I understand you were present during the Conclave where the Barrier’s implementation was formally sanctioned,” he continued. “If that is the case, you should already be familiar with the necessity of the project and the role it plays in safeguarding the empire.” He paused briefly before adding, “You should also have been informed that your estate has been identified as a prime candidate for the Freybrook pylon.”
“I have indeed been informed. And, naturally, I am more than willing to cooperate in the interest of the empire’s safety and that of its citizens.”
The surveyor offered a polite smile. “That’s reassuring to hear.” He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. “We have already assessed two alternative locations near the Freybrook Kilnstone — namely, the Brook Tower and the area immediately surrounding the Kilnstone itself. However, the latter is unsuitable if we intend to preserve the Kilnstone’s current functionality. Under typical circumstances, Brook Tower would be our primary choice, but we are fortunate that your estate offers an ideal alternative.”
He leaned forward slightly. “From our preliminary assessments of the mana density and relative leyline convergence on your grounds, early estimates indicate that constructing the pylon here could significantly reduce the resources required for stabilisation and mana generation — resources otherwise necessary at the other sites.”
“That is promising news.” Scarlett set her teacup down on the low table in front of her and crossed her arms. “And as I have stated, I am willing to assist in any efforts that serve to protect the empire. My commitment should be evident from my past contributions to the ongoing relief efforts.” She studied the surveyor’s expression for a moment, then tilted her head slightly. “However, I am curious as to how the Imperial Office of Barrier Works intends to compensate me for such a concession. This is my home, after all. The installation of a pylon within its bounds will inevitably impact both myself and those under my care.”
“Rest assured, Baroness, your cooperation would not go unrecognised,” the surveyor said. “The standard contributions expected of noble houses towards the Barrier’s construction will be waived in light of your estate’s role in this project. Additionally, any prior contributions made will be reimbursed once the current crisis has passed.”
Scarlett raised a brow. To some nobles, that might actually have been a fair offer.
She made a deliberate show of considering his words, letting the silence linger just long enough to potentially put him slightly on edge. “That is…reasonable,” she replied slowly. “With that said, it is not especially compelling. Surely, there is more?”
For a baroness of her standing, the expected contribution was relatively minor. While something could be said about how wise it was, the empire calculated such dues based on landholdings and noble rank — and the Hartford barony held little weight in either regard.
The official’s expression remained composed, but Scarlett imagined her response didn’t please him much.
“While I understand the need to consider your own circumstances, you must also recognise that this project concerns the safety and stability of the entire empire,” he said.
“That is true. Yet you ask me to offer my own home for this. That is no small request. The Hartford estate has belonged to my family for generations. I do not take lightly the notion of being the one to see it fundamentally altered.” She let the words settle, then added, “Furthermore, I would ask you to consider the security risks involved in housing a critical national defence structure within my walls. That is not a burden to be accepted lightly.”
“I know all too well what it’s like to lose one’s home,” Lady Withersworth spoke up, fixing the official with a sharp look. “I would certainly not wish such a fate upon our dear Baroness Hartford.” Her smile remained warm, but there was a noticeable edge to her words. “I am quite confident that my husband and his esteemed colleagues—who were instrumental in establishing the Empyreal Barrier project—took such consideration into account when structuring the budget. Surely, they would not be so ungenerous as to expect an honourable noblewoman, one who has already sacrificed much for the empire’s people, to receive no compensation for a decision that may save your office untold millions in resources, hmm?”
The surveyor hesitated. For a brief moment, his lips pressed into a thin line before he finally gave a short nod. “…At this stage, compensation remains tentative, subject to further assessment of your estate’s suitability,” he admitted. “However, I believe we may be able to allocate…perhaps a twentieth of the resources originally designated for Brook Tower to the Hartford barony instead.”
“And how much, precisely, does that amount to?” Scarlett asked.
“Much of it is currently in the form of reserved materials and structural enchantments, but a rough estimate places its value at approximately four million solars.”
Scarlett tapped a single finger against her arm, considering the sum. It was a substantial amount — more than most minor nobles could hope to accumulate over several decades. But for her, at this point in time…
“Perhaps we should revisit this discussion once you have had the opportunity to conduct a more thorough examination of what exactly makes my estate so attractive for your purposes,” she said, turning her gaze to the wizard seated beside the surveyor. “You are not yet familiar with the nature of the artifact that safeguards this estate, are you?”
“I’m not,” Rogelio replied.
“Then I will take you to it before we proceed.” Scarlett looked at Lady Withersworth. “Will you be joining us, Lila?”
The woman gave a light shake of her head. “No, dear. I have never been much for such arcane fascinations. I think I will stay here and enjoy the rest of this delightful tea your gentlemanly butler prepared.”
“Very well.” Scarlett refocused on her guests. “Do brace yourselves. This will be…unconventional.”
Both men exchanged uncertain glances, but before they could voice any questions, Scarlett reached out through her connection to the Loci. A heartbeat later, she, Fynn, and the two officials were transported to the heart of the Loci’s garden — lush with vibrant summer blooms and the soft hum of bees. The scent of lavender and wild roses filled the air. A distant birdsong mingled with the rustle of hedges that ringed the space. It was a pretty stark contrast to the winter frost that blanketed the rest of Freybrook.
The surveyor stared, wide-eyed, at their surroundings, seeming to struggle to process what had just happened. Meanwhile, his wizard colleague slowly turned in place, his gaze flicking from flowerbed to rune to crystal with unfiltered awe. He murmured something under his breath — something about the seamlessness of the translocation spell.
“Welcome to my Loci’s garden,” Scarlett said, gesturing towards the pedestal at the centre of the space. Resting on it was a large, uncut emerald, glowing softly from within. It was tethered to a smoke-filled crystalline structure embedded in the marble below. The Ashenwraith Heart.
A ring of vividly coloured flowers encircled its base, their arrangement echoing the structure of an arcane array. Between them, faintly glowing runes traced delicate patterns into the earth, extending toward four larger circular platforms at the garden’s cardinal points. Hovering above each was a floating cerulean crystal, suffusing the etched lines with pulsing energy.
Since her return from the Isle, Scarlett had devoted some of her time to refining the Loci, integrating knowledge gleaned from both Thainnith’s legacy and her exchanges with the Rising Isle’s Warder Asheton. She had also taken generous advantage of the arcane resources the Rising Isle had ‘offered’ her.
Not all of the arrays were complete—her abilities had their limits—but she had done what she could. The Rising Isle had taken steps to ensure their arcane components would require minimal adjustments to use. Even so, a specialist would be needed to make the final calibrations when the time came.
The surveyor slowly collected himself, masking his astonishment behind a more neutral expression. He turned to Scarlett. “This is certainly… unique, Baroness.”
“Indeed, it is,” she replied.
Her focus shifted to Rogelio. The wizard had stepped closer, carefully navigating around the runes etched in the ground, his face alight with excitement.
“These…these are ancient Sifiric binding runes, aren’t they?” he asked, pointing to one segment of the markings.
“They are,” Scarlett confirmed. She gestured to the emerald at the pedestal’s core. “And that is the Loci. A house spirit bound to the estate, sustained by an Ashenwraith dragon’s heart. The hearth was artificed for that purpose by Arch Wizard Warley Godwin. From what we suspect, the Loci itself may originate from a harmonic prismite variant native to the Wandering Realm.”
“Amazing!” Rogelio breathed, his excitement only seeming to grow as he examined the setup more closely.
The surveyor, however, remained more reserved. “Is it truly that significant?” he asked, eyeing the wizard with a furrowed brow.
Rogelio gave a small, incredulous shake of his head. “I’m not even familiar with half of these arrays, but I can tell you with certainty that this was done by experts of the highest order.” He pointed towards the floating crystals positioned at the edges of the space. “And those — those are refined Anemorite Catalysts! They were once used by the ancient Zuver, and as far as we know, only the Rising Isle still retains the knowledge to create them. They are so rare that the Ustrum Assembly only has five, each reserved for the most delicate of arcane research.”
The wizard took in the full array. “This could very well be the most optimal site for a pylon in the empire — aside from Elystead itself.”
The surveyor blinked, glancing between his colleague and Scarlett. “…And how much do you believe this would save in terms of cost?”
“I can’t say for certain just yet,” Rogelio replied. “We will need to conduct thorough examinations to determine how seamlessly this ‘Loci’ can be integrated into the pylon’s framework. Given the nature of this construct, I assume you would prefer it remain intact, Baroness?”
“Naturally,” Scarlett said, dipping her head.
The wizard hummed in thought, surveying the space. “…If the integration is viable, it’s possible that many of the standard enchantments and stabilisation arrays won’t be needed. That alone could drastically reduce overall costs.” He looked back at the surveyor. “But we will need to bring in additional specialists to confirm our findings.”
The surveyor’s expression remained mostly neutral as he looked to Scarlett. It was difficult to tell whether he was as pleased by this news as his colleague.
Scarlett offered him a small, knowing smile. “I am more than willing to delay our negotiations until a more precise estimate can be provided.”
“It’s a little late for a business call to the office, don’t you think?” Rosa teased as she stepped into Scarlett’s study, a damp towel slung over her left shoulder. She ran her fingers through her still-drying curls, trying to tame them. “I’d barely finished washing up when Molly popped up at my door, saying you’d sent for me. Nearly thought she’d taken up practical jokes. Can’t even remember the last time you called me in here.”
Scarlett looked up from the documents spread across her desk, regarding the bard silently.
Rosa met her stare, then suddenly raised one hand to her mouth in mock astonishment. “Wait. This isn’t a business call, is it? No — surely not. Is this a personal summons? Has the day finally come when you admit you simply cannot go on without my unwavering support and breathtaking presence by your side?”
Scarlett arched a single brow. “We have already discussed the matter at hand, Rosa.”
They were attending a very particular meeting tonight.
“Yeah, yeah, but a girl can dream, can’t she?” Rosa dropped her hand and grinned, though her expression quickly turned serious. “So. It’s time?”
“It is. I trust you are prepared.”
Rosa knocked a closed fist lightly against her chest, just above the Heartstone lodged there, as if reaffirming its presence. At the same time, she brandished the cape draped over her right shoulder, spreading it wide with both hands before sweeping it around herself. With a flick of her wrist, the damp towel vanished into its enchanted folds. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Just say the word.”
Scarlett rose from her seat, grabbing her [Pouch of Holding] from the desk and stepping towards Rosa. With a subtle wave of her hand, warmth rippled through the air, instantly removing the moisture from the drying bard’s hair and restoring its usual, voluminous curly state.
Rosa gave her an appreciative smile. “You know, if this whole ‘imperious noble-lady’ gig ever falls through, you’d make a damn fine hairdresser. Could probably make a killing off it.”
“I would sooner perish,” Scarlett replied, utterly sincere.
“Well, let’s not get too dramatic. If you die, I’d be out of a job.”
“What a tragedy that would be.”
“Oi. I can hear the sarcasm in your voice. Don’t you sass me. It would be a tragedy.”
“That is what I said.”
Scarlett stopped beside the bard. Her deep crimson dress shimmered, dissolving into her expedition attire, complete with the [Crown of Flame’s Benediction]. Then, reaching for the Loci, she shifted the two of them.
A heartbeat later, they stood in the Loci’s garden, just as Scarlett had with the two officials earlier that day. The warm, uncanny stillness of the place wrapped around them like a blanket. Overhead, stars stretched across the sky in a sea of light, the moon hanging high above. The scent of flowers hung thick in the air.
Rosa looked around, her gaze catching on the glowing arcane arrays carved into the ground and the four floating crystals pulsing softly in each corner. “You’ve really spruced this place up the past few days. Our dear house spirit must be ecstatic over all these fancy new toys.”
“I imagine it would be, if it were capable of such feelings.” Scarlett approached the Loci—it was completely fine, stepping on the arrays—studying its glow for a moment before turning back to Rosa. “Let us not waste time. It is best if we proceed quickly and without incident.”
Rosa exhaled, rolling her shoulders as her usual playfulness faded. “Yeah, you’re right. But is it just us?”
“Fynn will join us shortly.”
Right on cue, a gust of wind stirred the garden’s flowers, and the white-haired youth appeared at its edge. He looked at them both with a quiet, assessing frown.
Scarlett had deliberated whether to bring him or not for this, and in the end, she’d decided to let his nose decide.
Scarlett nodded towards Rosa. “You may proceed.”
Rosa shot Fynn a brief glance, then cleared her throat. “Alright.”
In an instant, her presence shifted. A surge of energy rippled outward as the atmosphere grew heavier, eerily still. Her eyes dimmed, shadowed by something older and deeper. From her chest, where the Heartstone rested, a soft glow began to beat, slow and rhythmic, like the beat of a distant drum.
“Well,” Rosa muttered under her breath, flexing her fingers as if shaking off invisible weight. “Here goes, I suppose. One foot in the Blazes. What could possibly go wrong?”
Comments
SSS
Thanks for the chapter.
Martin
>>>Fynn stood, his sharp gaze never straying from their guests. Though he hadn’t said anything, his intense scrutiny had clearly unsettled the newcomers<<< It reminded me of negotiations with a Mafia Godfather :-) Guests subconsciously knew that one simple gesture from the baroness and both the Imperial Surveyor and Wizard would be turned into cat food by Fynn. On a different note, I think whatever experiment they are conducting with Rosa will probably raise the price of the future pylon location on top of the current estimates.
