"They should have arrived at House Barth's domain by now?"
"Yes. Word just came in."
"Good thing it's close. Well, at least the pace we set was worth it."
I listened to the reports from the staff and allowed myself a quiet smile.
The North's merchants and mastones had finally arrived at House Barth's domain.
There were still minor issues lingering here and there, but Jackson would handle those on his own.
"That said, it's a surprise. I thought Jackson was the type to stay planted in Central and nowhere else."
"It being the first time, Sir Jackson apparently went himself to see to it personally."
"Good. Good."
The promotion to Governor of the Central Bank was all well and good, but the sheer volume of work Jackson had to manage was staggering.
For one, he had to calibrate the relative value of gold coins between the North and the South.
He also had to align the assessed values of available resources.
And on top of that, close the information gap between the two sides.
In any sense of the word, the work was piling up.
"Tell him to come to me if he needs more. I'll arrange to send as many people as he requires."
"There has also been a request from Sir Jackson — to be permitted to establish a branch bank within House Barth's domain."
"A bank operated by the North, you mean?"
"Precisely. In truth, the single greatest problem among the various complications in our dealings with House Barth is the matter of currency valuation."
The greater the disparity in currency value, the larger the losses in gold coins bleeding out of the North would inevitably become.
And there was simply no way to predict how long it would take before the values of the North and South converged into one.
So for the time being, the thinking was that a Northern exchange bank should be established within House Barth's domain to handle currency conversion — a dual-track system.
"An excellent idea. See that it's done."
"Thank you, Your Grace. And also..."
The matter at hand was the North's support for the resources and manufactured goods that had crossed over.
Of course, some portion of House Barth's gold veins had been received in exchange, but that alone was not enough to cover the current losses.
So it had been decided that the North would extend a certain amount of credit to facilitate the trade — and this was a request regarding the terms of repayment.
"Tell them to adjust the repayment period with the 9.5 percent interest rate I set at the outset."
"There is considerable complaint that the rate is too high, Your Grace."
"I know. But this is the first transaction. Tell them that after this deal, the risk premium will be revised downward promptly."
"It appears they are hoping for a rate of at least five percent."
"We're not there yet. Nothing changes. Nine point five percent is already quite low."
He had no intention of backing down on that point.
The rate he had originally had in mind was above ten percent, but that would have been unreasonable — they might as well not trade at all.
Still, he had already lowered the rate considerably to encourage the initial round of investment.
Nine point five percent was practically lending money for nothing.
He did intend to gradually bring the rate down over time, but five percent was far too little.
"Stabilizing the currency value is the top priority right now. Trade with the North has to be pegged to the North's gold standard, regardless. As for anyone trying to skim off the top with absurd fees — make it very clear they will bleed for it. Make sure that part gets conveyed as well."
"Understood, Your Grace."
"Right. Tell Jackson to keep up the hard work a little longer."
The staff member departed.
He had been hoping to spend a bit more time in pleasantly disreputable company with Daniela, but work refused to let him go.
And Daniela herself had suddenly run out of time as well.
The reason was simple enough.
Something about a dinner gathering of the marchionesses and the Grand Duchess.
They really do find every possible occasion.
Since things had come to this, there was nothing for it but to adjust his pace.
Just when he was about to —
"Your Grace."
"Father-in-law. What brings you here?"
"Ha ha ha, I received some good news and came to pay my respects."
Marquess Roland stepped into the room.
He appeared to have received his own report about the convoy that had arrived at House Barth's domain.
Enough mastones to last nearly a year had reached House Barth — and the North's troops had begun establishing their garrison as well.
"I came to offer my thanks once more."
"Well, thinking of it as something done for my father-in-law's domain made it easier to part with, but honestly..."
His feelings toward the man were not entirely warm.
It was an undeniable fact that Roland had sent Daniela north as though consigning her to her death.
But Daniela herself had not rejected Marquess Roland, and knowing the man was simply someone buffeted about by the currents of power — he could at least understand it.
"Just treat Daniela well. And no more sending strange letters."
"I — I apologize, Your Grace."
"And do not forget that the position of Grand Duchess belongs to Daniela — not to House Barth."
"Understood, Your Grace."
There was also the need to guard against the influence of the wife's family.
In any case, House Barth was too far removed geographically to meddle in Northern politics, and they lacked the means to fracture the system he had built.
Of course, once a Young Duke came along, that calculus might change — but that was not yet the case.
"I do not yet place my full trust in House Barth."
"I will do my utmost. Please give us the chance, Your Grace."
"Very well, then. Father-in-law."
The brief moment of pressure came to an end.
He trusted House Barth — but not to the degree of trusting them completely. Not yet.
Marquess Roland also took his leave.
Now alone in the room, Theodor lay back quietly on the bed.
Perhaps a little rest.
—
"Ho ho ho — to have someone so lovely here among us, what more could one ask for."
The women of the marquess houses.
Their power was naturally apportioned according to their husbands' rank.
Whether it was wealth, the size of their domain, or the strength of their armies.
Every time the marchionesses convened, the woman who held sway was different.
The structure shifted frequently, following the political winds of the South.
But the current situation had a catfish thrown into the pond.
A very large catfish.
"We have a newcomer joining us today. This is Her Grace, Grand Duchess Daniela."
"How do you do. How do you do."
Daniela offered her greetings and took her seat.
She was the youngest in the room by some margin, but the difference in rank was unmistakably clear.
The sole Grand Duchess on the continent, and one whose domain had declared independence — by order of precedence, she could only sit at the very top.
"Ahem. It has been some time. I am glad to see you."
The jockeying for position began.
The broken engagement with the Crown Prince was already well-known across the continent.
Daniela quietly took stock of the room.
The gathering was presided over by the mistress of House Callum, currently the largest faction present.
There was no need to wrest that position away.
She would not be coming south frequently in any case.
"So how have you been keeping yourself these days, Your Grace?"
"Quite busy, in my own way. There turns out to be rather more to do than I expected."
"Well, when one first takes on such a position, there is always a great deal to manage."
"If anything, I find myself with far too many questions of my own."
She began to sidestep the women's jostling with a light touch.
Daniela was deflecting the contest by making herself smaller, letting the posturing pass her by.
Rather than competing, she was cultivating goodwill with the various marchionesses — deliberately feigning ignorance on one thing or another to give the impression of an endearing inexperience.
The youngest one here.
Had the girl from House de Bosch been present, she would have been prepared for a proper fight — but since she was not, there was no need for that.
Drawing allies to her side would serve far better.
"Ha ha, ask us anything, anytime. We'll tell you everything you need to know."
"Thank you."
Ho ho ho —
Laughter began to ripple through the room.
One simply could not ignore the weight of rank.
Daniela deliberately asked question after question, drawing out opinions from all sides.
"That part can be rather trying, yes. Ho ho ho —"
"Though that is really the men's domain, isn't it. Ho ho ho!"
Daniela was settling in.
But inevitably, the conversation turned to the matter of an heir.
It was a subject of importance to the women as well, but in truth it was the most important matter for any noble house.
Who would carry the house forward?
"Surely that is something you've been giving thought to?"
"I beg your pardon? Pardon?"
"Ha ha ha! Quite flustered, aren't you. Still so young — I suppose this is all rather unfamiliar territory."
"I — I have been reading about child-rearing as well —"
"Ah, but reading about it and actually doing it are worlds apart."
Every woman in this room either had a legitimate heir to carry on the house, or sons who had already come of age.
The only one who had yet to produce an heir was Daniela.
"I — I have actually been giving it quite a lot of thought myself."
"Oh my, even Your Grace has been worrying over it?"
"W-well, the Grand Duke is not young, and there has been no shortage of voices saying I ought to produce a Young Duke soon."
The expressions of the marchionesses turned serious all at once.
The weight of bearing a son.
Every one of them grew grave when the subject of children arose.
Particularly the absence of an heir — that was as good as announcing that chaos was already guaranteed.
"Have you tried —"
"Ah, not yet —"
"Good heavens, this is serious."
The kind of talk that belonged to a gathering of matrons began in earnest.
Daniela listened with every ounce of her attention.
How to conceive a son.
"This is important, you understand."
"W-wait, just a moment. This is moving rather fast —"
"Even if not a son, you must at least have a child."
"I will take it all to heart."
The matrons' talk continued without pause.
The lesson in producing a son went on and on.
Which positions were favorable, which prayers were efficacious — all of it was pressed upon her in relentless succession.
At some point, Daniela found herself thinking of nothing but —
A son — a son —