Chaper 6 - Informants

  A goal without a plan is just a wish.”

  - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

  Seraphina set aside the latest letter from her friend, Michelié, slipping it into the drawer where she kept unimportant correspondence. The chubby girl had been absolutely bubbling over the newest candies that “Miriam’s” company had concocted. The girl simply could not recommend them enough. In truth, Seraphina found Michelié’s unfettered enthusiasm to be an excellent barometer for public reception, a one-woman focus group…or two or three, considering her girth, Seraphina thought uncharitably.

  Still, one key tidbit in the letter delighted her: Michelié appeared to have no idea who truly owned the confectionery company. Either that, or her plump friend was more cunning than she let on—though Seraphina rather doubted it. The Lehman’s bank were good at what they did because they had to be.

  There was an endearing simplicity to Michelié that made her likable, and with a faint smile, Seraphina scribbled an instruction to send a full cartload of candies to the de Montan estate. It seemed that even Seraphina was not immune to such simple charm. At this rate, she mused wryly, Michelié might soon be as wide as four people.

  Her private amusement was interrupted by the soft clink of china as Miriam entered, bearing a tray for afternoon tea. Immediately, Seraphina’s senses were embraced by the aroma of Zeyza leaf. The original Seraphina’s memories informed her that it was something similar to Ceylon, though a touch more refined. The wiry leaves swirled in the glass teapot, releasing tendrils of steam with hints of chocolate and citrus.

  “Thank you, Miriam. Please put that down,” Seraphina said, waving a hand toward a small side table.

  The maid obeyed, but hesitated. “Milady, I am also to inform you that your Academy uniform has arrived.”

  Seraphina’s lips curved in a slight frown. “So, I will have to wear one of those like everyone else,” she sighed, irritation lacing her tone. Even being a powerful duke’s daughter, it seemed, was not enough to bend the Academy’s rules.

  “Anything else, Miriam?”

  “There is someone from the City Guard, a Captain Fanzazino. He is waiting in the drawing room at your pleasure.”

  Seraphina arched one perfectly manicured brow. “Well then, this Captain Fanzazino can wait a little longer,” she said coolly, settling into her chair. “I have yet to finish my tea.”

  With a deliberate slowness, Seraphina lifted the delicate porcelain cup, cradling it in her palms. She took a measured sip, letting the flavors bloom across her tongue. The initial taste was brisk, a pleasant tang that brought bright citrus to mind, tempered by a silky smoothness. A gentle bitterness emerged at the edges, lending depth, before a subtle floral note lingered in the back of her throat—a parting kiss of fragrance and warmth.

  She savored that moment, each new sip adding a layer of complexity only a truly sophisticated palette could appreciate. Seraphina imagined the Captain tapping his foot in the drawing room. She would make him wait until her she was finished—because, in Seraphina’s world, she decided the when of things.

  “Oh and Miriam…” she began placing her cup and saucer back down on her desk.

  “Yes, milady?”

  “Do be a dear and take out all the rugs and carpets and have the servants beat them. I believe we will be having other certain guests this evening. Oh, and I am not be disturbed this evening after I deal with this Fanzazino.”

  Miriam looked as if she was about to question this cryptic order but instead simply curtsied.

  “Of course, Lady Seraphina. It will be done.”

  ***

  Seraphina swept into the drawing room with all the effortless poise of a swan gliding across still waters—golden hair shining, chin held high. It was a small tragedy that such an entrance was wasted on Captain Guiseppe Fanzazino, a man whose looks could most kindly be described as if a pig had chosen to mate with a frog and produced offspring that somehow had learned to walked upright. The sight of his face tested the very limits of Seraphina’s self-control, but she kept her radiant smile firmly plastered in place, if only for appearances sake.

  He bowed deeply, servile affectation dripping from every gesture. “Ah, the Lady of the House. Guiseppe Fanzazino, Captain of the City Guard. I am in charge of enforcing the King’s laws here in the Southern Quarter. Truly, I am enchanted by your presence.”

  Despite the flourishes of his greeting, the well-tailored cut of his garments, and the exaggerated courtesy in his demeanor, Seraphina loathed offering her hand. Even more, she hated that he might actually put his lips to her skin. Luckily, Guiseppe only pressed a kiss to the air above her fingers, sparing her from contact.

  Keeping her face composed, she inclined her head in a brief nod. “Seraphina,” she stated simply, ignoring his obvious attempts at flattery.

  He straightened with a sweeping gesture. “I am as you say… an admirer, my Lady. The bards and poets who sing your praises fail to capture even a fraction of your radiance. And now, hearing your voice in person, I can only conclude that the rumors of you being chosen by the Goddess are blessed truth.”

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  A delicate frown touched her lips. The forced adoration was exhausting, and she had little patience left for his cloying words. “Captain,” she said sharply, “I would appreciate it if you told me why you’ve come. As you can see, the hour grows rather late.”

  He clasped his hands in a theatrical show of regret. “Ah, then forgive my impertinence, but I shall be direct. There is… a complication. A number of adventurers have gone missing. The Adventurer’s Guild has lodged a complaint suggesting that you, Lady Seraphina, may be… somehow involved. Of course, a ridiculous notion,” he added hastily, “but they claim eyewitnesses placed someone of your likeness near the last known location of these poor, most unfortunate souls.”

  A cold spark lit her eyes. “Adventurers go missing every day, Captain. Why should I pay attention to such gossip and why do you bring this matter before me?”

  “Because, Lady Seraphina, these rumors are persistent. The Guild is pressing for answers.” Guiseppe paused, the corners of his mouth twisting into a servile smile. “Fortunately, the Southern Quarter is my domain, and… I can make all of this just disappear with just a few well placed words. I simply wish to prevent any unwholesome rumors from following you to the Academy.” He allowed a meaningful silence to bloom, clearly angling for a bribe.

  Seraphina’s patience had run thin. She glanced at his ornate steel breastplate and the elegant rapier at his hip. He certainly was equipped better than most guards, but she assessed him with the same cool detachment she would show a squealing piglet at market. “Is it money you want?” she asked flatly.

  Guiseppe’s eyes lit up with triumph at the very suggestion. But before he could voice his demands, Seraphina moved with startling speed. In one fluid motion, she seized him by the throat, lifting him off his feet as though he weighed no more than a child’s doll. His breath came in frantic wheezes, eyes bulging in panic.

  Cornelia, Seraphina’s pet serpent, poked her white head from the neckline of her mistress’s gown. The snake hissed at the writhing man, its forked tongue flickering against the air. Her presence only further increased Guiseppe’s terror.

  “What is it you want?” Seraphina demanded coldly, her green eyes flinty.

  He tried to speak, managing only strangled sounds. At length, Seraphina loosened her grip just enough to let him breathe. Where is Frest? she wondered. She then remembered that he was likely following her previous orders not to disturb her for the evening. An inconvenient detail, given the current circumstances, but she hardly needed help here.

  “P-please… put me d-down…” Guiseppe finally choked out. “G-get that… sn-snake away from me…”

  Calculating the potential consequences of killing a city guard captain under her own roof, Seraphina decided it would be more trouble than it was worth. She tore his rapier from its sheath, throwing it in the corner, and flung him unceremoniously onto a nearby velvet settee. Guiseppe fell into the cushions and gasped for air, hands clutching his bruised throat.

  “Now,” she said, tone icily calm, “you will listen. You will not speak until I have finished.”

  Still panting, he looked at Cornelia as though she were a demon incarnate. Pathetic, Seraphina thought. Just like in the game world, he retained his mortal terror of serpents, which made him quite easy to subjugate. A small, dangerous smile tugged at her lips as she considered turning him into experience points, but that might complicate her plans and inconvenience her—particularly with an Academy term about to begin.

  “I will be Queen someday,” she declared, each syllable a quiet lash of certainty. “Of that, have no doubt. You are fortunate, Captain, for I find myself in need of… helpers. You will be my dog. Can you do that?”

  He nodded feebly, though his eyes flicked from Seraphina’s hand to the snake coiled against the bodice of her dress.

  “Then bark,” she commanded.

  He stared at her, stunned, until she made a menacing motion with her free hand. Immediately, he began to yelp out pitiful dog noises.

  “Good,” she said, her voice cool with contempt. “I am not an unkind master. When I am Queen, you will get scraps from the table if you obey. In return, you will give me every last piece of information that falls into your grubby paws. Is that understood?”

  He nodded once more, desperately.

  Seraphina’s brows drew together in mild irritation. “You may speak.”

  “Thank you, Your Future-Majesty!” he wheezed, tears of relief gathering at the corners of his eyes. Clearly he hoped to escape before she changed her mind.

  She felt a surge of satisfaction at the new title he offered, silently choosing to disregard the “future” part. “Michaela of the Blue Pheasant,” she continued, “is your favorite whore, is she not?” She saw him blanch as she uttered the woman’s name. “Imagine what might happen to her if you betray me. I want to know everything that happens in Meridian—the movements of the Guild, the nobility, the petty squabbles of the common folk. Everything. I know how you rose to your station, and your network of informants belong to me now.”

  “Y-yes, Lady Seraphina, I understand,” he stammered, swallowing hard.

  “If you fail, I’ll throw you into a pit of vipers.” Her voice dripped with quiet venom. “Do not test me. Also, I’m expecting guests from the Empire soon. There may be… a commotion. You will soothe any ruffled feathers in the neighborhood. My maid Miriam will provide any funds you require to keep things quiet.”

  “U-understood,” he managed. His eyes flicked to the snake again. The thought of a pit full of Cornelia’s brethren made him quake like a leaf in a storm.

  “Then get out of my sight,” Seraphina snapped, her lips curling in disgust. “You sicken me. What a pathetic state the City Guards of Meridian are in if they must rely on a creature like you!”

  Guiseppe Fanzazino wasted no time. He stumbled from the settee and half-ran to grab his rapier from the corner. He then half-limped out the door, wheezing and clutching at his bruised neck like a wounded beast.

  Moments later, Seraphina’s voice rang throughout the house. “Miriam!”

  The maid appeared promptly, face composed, though Seraphina could read the faint curiosity in her eyes. “Yes, Lady Seraphina?”

  “The Captain looked rather… out of sorts,” Miriam ventured, glancing at the open door.

  Seraphina waved off the banal observation. “We’ve come to an understanding,” she replied, running a gentle hand over Cornelia’s head to calm the snake’s lingering agitation.

  Miriam nodded. “Is there anything else you require?”

  “Yes,” Seraphina said. “Summon Frest at once. I am expecting guests tonight or perhaps tomorrow. We must be prepared.”

  “Guests, milady? At such an hour?”

  “They are not the sort of guests who require a formal banquet,” Seraphina clarified with a thin, knowing smile. “Frest and the guards will handle most of the preparations, but I will also need you available. Understood?”

  Miriam swallowed, uncertainty flickering across her features. “Yes, milady.”

  With that, the maid departed to carry out her orders, leaving Seraphina alone, Cornelia coiling around her neck and shoulders. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she contemplated all of the seeds she had sown—and how her plans for the Academy, for Meridian, and for the throne of Aranthia were already beginning to take root.