The pen rested beside the thick book, bound in red leather with gilded edges. Her delicate fingers slid carefully across the pages she had already read, going back a few times to review specific points regarding imperial tax collection, revenue flows, and the inspection system of internal trade routes.
The soft morning light entered through the side window of the library, slightly warming the room and reflecting off Elyandra's white hair, now longer and carefully tied with a dark ribbon. Her serious gaze, worthy of any aristocrat, was fixed on the text.
To her right, in absolute silence, Siris watched. As always. Attentive, yet without intruding. Her eyes followed the girl's movements with almost religious dedication, hands clasped in front of her body and the calm expression of someone who would stay there until the end of the world, if necessary.
"Taxes on the Southern region's ports are four times higher than those in the West. This either indicates bribery or inspection negligence. Hmph. Amateurs."
Critical thoughts flowed naturally. Elyandra didn't behave like a little girl reading her first treatise—she dissected the texts like a veteran strategist, seeing behind the words the entire system of power that sustained the empire.
Suddenly, she closed the book with a sharp, deep "clack."
She rested her elbows on the table and interlaced her fingers beneath her chin, pensive. Her eyes were fixed on some abstract point on the carpet while her mind began to wander again.
"From mana control to political mastery... six months have already passed since it all began. It feels like a short time, but... my body, my habits, even my emotions... everything has changed."
She remembered the day she could barely control the cold, Siris's unexpected hugs, the exhaustive training under her tutor's watchful eye, the nights she struggled with frustration for feeling 'broken' by gestures of affection. And now, there she was, reading about imperial macroeconomics as if it were a morning novel.
That was when she noticed something.
There was an unusual warmth, a presence far too close.
As she looked up, she came face-to-face with Siris's face, absurdly close, as if she wanted to fuse their foreheads together. Her green eyes pleaded in silence for some attention, as if begging for a caress or, at least, a bit of the affection the little girl was pouring into the books.
Elyandra gave a subtle jump in her chair, pulling her head back and knitting her brows.
— What... are you doing, Siris?
Siris blinked slowly, with a slight smile on her lips and her voice sweet as ever.
— Just admiring a dedicated... and extremely cute young lady. It hurts to be ignored when I'm right here, you know?
"She talks as if she's a needy plush kitten. I can't deal with this."
Elyandra turned her face in a weak attempt to hide the light flush rising to her cheeks.
— I am trying to study fiscal policies. This is important.
Siris moved even closer, resting her chin on her hands and watching like a child waiting for a piece of cake.
— Exactly, and that's what makes you so incredible. A determined little girl, reading about finance while others your age are sewing flowers or practicing the waltz.
Siris's eyes measured her from head to toe like a child interested in a candy.
— ...could you give me a hug? Just one?
The request was so blatantly sweet that it dismantled part of the wall Elyandra was trying to build with seriousness. She rolled her eyes slightly, as if weighing an imperial sentence.
— Just one... it shouldn't kill anyone, right?
With a resigned—and slightly theatrical—sigh, Elyandra leaned forward and opened a brief space with her arms. Siris didn't wait a second. She enveloped the little girl with affection, as if the entire winter were melted at that moment.
— You really are the most special little girl in this empire...
Elyandra, with warm cheeks, remained quiet for a while, but inside... "Just one more minute. Afterward, I'll pretend I was manipulated."
The warmth of the hug still enveloped Elyandra when a shadow was cast softly across the library entrance.
The silhouette was tall, with an imposing posture, walking with the precision of someone who carried centuries of power in every step. The hallway light traced the contours of a man dressed in noble clothing of military cut, adorned with discreet House Valemortis symbols. He did not need to announce his presence.
Vaelric Valemortis, her father, had entered.
Siris noticed before Elyandra did. Her embrace unfurling like silk in the wind, she immediately bowed with her head low, respectful.
— My Lord...
Vaelric did not respond. He only cast her a brief, firm look.
— Siris. Leave us.
The order was low but non-negotiable.
— Of course, my Lord — she said, retreating without hesitation, though she looked back one last time at Elyandra, like one leaving a treasure under judgment.
The silence that followed seemed denser than the air. Elyandra, still seated, turned calmly and straightened her posture, her eyes fixed on her father's movements. Her heart beat a little faster, but her face let nothing slip.
Vaelric approached the table. He picked up the book she had just closed and leafed through it with experienced eyes, the pages sliding through his fingers like official documents. He skimmed the titles and underlines.
— Port taxation... tax exemption flows... inter-provincial collection systems... — he murmured. — Studying imperial finance?
— Yes, Lord Vaelric — Elyandra replied, with the composure of someone trained to speak before kings.
The man looked up, evaluating his daughter as if he were facing a military report.
— Then tell me, little lady... If you were appointed supervisor of the trade routes in the Eastern district and discovered that revenue had dropped thirty-seven percent in the last two cycles, what would be your first action?
Something inside Elyandra awakened. The atmosphere around them seemed to stop. It was like that tension before a decisive battle—that same feeling that ran down her spine when she was still FatalPrincess, queen of the battlefields.
She smiled slightly.
— I would request the cargo entry and exit records and cross-reference them with local collector data. If the number of vessels has not varied, there is a high chance of embezzlement or incomplete collection. — An appropriate answer must be direct, Elyandra thought. — After the analysis, I would remove the supervisors under suspicion and appoint others more aligned with imperial interests.
Vaelric flipped through a few more pages without expression, but the way his fingers slowed suggested a genuine interest.
— And if one of those involved was directly appointed by House Sorell?
— I would still execute the replacement. — Backing down from this action would demonstrate weakness, so I must have confidence in what I'm doing, Elyandra thought. — Afterward, I would send a diplomatic letter to the House, explaining the situation rationally and with evidence.
"There can be no mistakes and I must be assertive. If I plan to have any degree of influence, I must start by being direct and concrete, shouldn't I? Lord Valemortis."
— I would add that, as a gesture of good faith, I am open to future appointments... provided they are up to the standards of the position.
The father let out an almost inaudible sound, a cross between a sigh and a contained laugh. He continued reading, but now with a sharper glint in his eyes.
— Last question. Let's say you took over the treasury of a poor Southern province. High crime. Disease. Few resources. No immediate support from the Capital. What would you do?
Elyandra leaned slightly forward, hands clasped on the table, her gaze now darker and more calculated. Like a veteran strategist.
— I would cut superfluous spending, summon Knights to serve as a containment force in exchange for imperial benefits, exempt local producers from taxes for three cycles to stimulate the base economy, and finally, negotiate with external merchants, offering future advantages in exchange for immediate supplies, while sending carefully drafted reports to the Capital requesting logistical reinforcements. — she completed, almost whispering, with a glint of pride in her eyes.
Vaelric closed the book slowly, his eyes fixed on her. For a brief moment, silence reigned as if time itself were watching her.
— You are not even nine years old. But you already speak as if you sat among the advisors of the throne.
Elyandra kept her gaze firm. There was no vanity in her posture, only determination. He moved closer, and with cold dignity, placed his gloved hand on his daughter's shoulder. It was not a gesture of affection, but of recognition. A silent seal of approval.
— Keep it up, Elyandra. The world will not be kind to you. But if you learn to control it... perhaps you won't need it to be.
Without saying anything else, Vaelric turned and left the library. The sound of his boots faded into the hallway like a chapter closing. Behind the door, Siris peeked with shining eyes and hands pressed against her chest, whispering to herself with an admired smile:
— She is incredible...
Elyandra released the breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. A faint smile appeared at the corner of her lips.
"I'm still the same. I've just changed the board."
The sound of light steps echoed through the wide halls of House Valemortis, draped in velvet tapestries and polished marble. The morning was late, and Elyandra seemed lighter than air.
— ♫ I am smart and genius, a noble girl without equal~ ♫ — she hummed in a low, lively voice, her hair dancing along with her skipping steps. — ♫ My daddy challenged me and it was I who won in the end~ ♫
Siris followed her a few steps behind, smiling from the corner of her lips while carrying, as always, a folded blanket and a watchful gaze. The contrast between the maid's impeccable posture and the little Lord's youthful excitement was worthy of a living painting.
In Elyandra's mind, however, there was more than just silly rhymes.
"In my past life, I couldn't even remember my parents' faces properly... I think I preferred it that way. That house was just a structure... cold, distant."
She spun once in the hallway, arms outstretched, as if she wanted to hug the air.
"But now..."
Her thought was cut short when she bumped lightly into an ornate side table. The porcelain vase, huge and evidently extremely expensive, wobbled at the top like a judge undecided between the fall and redemption.
— Ah—!
Before the panic even reached her eyes, a shadow sliced through the space between her and the vase.
— Watch out! — Siris exclaimed, her voice firmer than usual.
Like a lightning bolt, the maid had moved. With one arm, she held Elyandra firmly against herself; with the other, she balanced the heavy vase with an almost impossible lightness.
— You... — Elyandra blinked, surprised, looking up from below. — You were too fast...
Siris blinked back, smiling sweetly, though her heart still hammered from the fright.
— I will take care of you in every situation, my lady...
Before she could retort, the soft sound of footsteps echoed from the other side of the hallway.
Altheria Valemortis, wrapped in a tunic embroidered with silver threads, appeared from behind a marble column. Her violet gaze moved from Siris to her daughter, then to the vase that was still trembling.
— What is happening here?
Her voice was calm but slightly curious, as if she already knew the answer and was merely waiting for confirmation.
— Mother... it was just a small... accident. — Elyandra straightened herself with dignity, trying to recover her noble bearing like someone repositioning a crooked crown on their head. — But I am fine, thanks to Siris.
Altheria nodded slowly, walking toward them. She stopped in front of her daughter and knelt to her level, tucking a stray lock of hair with an affectionate gesture.
— I am glad you are well. But it would be good if you avoided testing the durability of the decor, yes?
— I promise! — Elyandra replied with a wide smile, almost childish... almost.
Siris smiled behind her hand, and Altheria cast a curious and proud look upon her daughter. For a moment, the hallway seemed to glow with the subtle warmth of that moment of reconnection.
— So... I heard you answered your father's questions correctly — Altheria said, still kneeling.
— Every single one! — Elyandra tilted her chin with pride. — And he didn't hold back on the difficulty.
— Hm. — Altheria gently squeezed her daughter's shoulder. — That is excellent. Perhaps you really are ready for what comes next.
Elyandra did not respond, but her eyes shone with an ambitious flame that not even the greatest nobles of the empire would dare to underestimate.