"No trouble at all," Elysia replied pleasantly.
She smiled.
"I brought Bran."
Then she gestured toward the two guards standing behind him.
"And these two served under His Grace on the battlefield."
Her smile widened slightly.
"They’ve carried broadswords heavier than a stack of ledgers. A few account books won’t trouble them."
Melissa’s expression darkened instantly.
The threat wasn’t subtle anymore.
Elysia was practically spelling it out for her.
Unfortunately for Melissa, Rose Hall was staffed almost entirely by maids and matrons.
Not a single one of them could stand against battle-hardened soldiers.
Grinding her teeth, she swallowed her frustration.
Then, with obvious reluctance, she climbed out of bed.
Elysia watched curiously.
First, Melissa reached beneath her pillow and produced a small brass key.
Using that key, she unlocked a wooden chest hidden beneath the bed.
Inside was another larger key.
Melissa took it and walked into the adjoining study.
There, she approached a bookcase positioned against the western wall.
A concealed lock sat hidden behind several books.
The second key fit perfectly.
Click.
A narrow cabinet swung open.
Inside rested the true heart of Draevenor Manor.
Ledgers.
Account books.
Estate records.
Property deeds.
And a heavy ring carrying the master keys to the entire household.
Elysia’s eyes brightened.
Finally.
Without hesitation, she took possession of the keys herself.
Bran and the guards carried away the ledgers.
Several trips were required as there were far more than anyone had expected, but by afternoon, the books had been relocated to the manor’s main study.
Elysia immediately began examining them.
She didn’t even make it through the first volume before letting out a soft laugh.
"She’s remarkably petty."
Clara looked up from her writing desk.
Elysia flipped another page.
"The wages paid to ordinary maids are shamefully low."
She shook her head.
"Miriam’s monthly allowance equals nearly six months of pay for some of the maids serving in Rose Hall."
Clara and Bertha weren’t surprised.
Everyone already knew.
Everyone except Elysia.
She continued turning pages.
One ledger.
Then another.
And another.
Gradually, her expression changed.
A small frown appeared.
"There aren’t even that many people living in the manor."
She rubbed her temple.
"So why are food expenses high enough to feed an army?"
The answer was obvious.
Someone was stealing.
And stealing a great deal.
Clara set aside her inkstone.
"Your Grace may not know this, but the vegetable supplier is Lady Melissa’s cousin."
Elysia paused.
"Is he?"
Clara nodded.
"And the wine merchant is connected to her as well."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"Officially, the tavern belongs to a steward."
"Unofficially..."
She left the rest unsaid.
Elysia understood immediately.
The money had never truly left Melissa’s hands.
It simply made a brief trip through several pockets before returning to her.
No wonder the accounts were such a disaster.
Clara continued.
"Ever since His Grace fell ill and entrusted her with the household, things have become worse. The meat is often spoiled. The vegetables arrive wilted. And the wine..."
She made a face.
"Half of it tastes watered down."
Elysia blinked.
That explained quite a lot.
Ever since arriving at Draevenor Manor, she had found the meals strangely disappointing.
She had assumed the cooks lacked skill.
Now she realized the problem wasn’t the cooking.
It was the ingredients.
"No wonder."
She closed the ledger.
"We need new suppliers immediately."
There was no reason to continue enriching thieves.
A little while later, another matter surfaced.
Princess Sylrienne’s birthday banquet.
Elysia still needed to select a gift.
Fortunately, she already knew exactly what she intended to buy.
Calling for a carriage, she left Miriam behind to continue learning household management from Maude.
Instead, she took Clara and the usual pair of guards.
Their destination was Cloudmere Lane, the busiest commercial district in all of Caelvyr.
The finest jewelers, cloth merchants and artisans showcased their goods here.
Everything worth purchasing could be found there.
As the carriage rolled through the crowded streets, memories surfaced.
In her previous life, she had spent nearly a week searching for the perfect gift.
Eventually, she had found a pair of Greenstone bangles.
Elegant.
Rare.
Beautifully translucent.
She had been delighted.
Then she had presented them to Sylrienne before an entire hall of nobles.
The princess had taken one glance and laughed.
She called them ugly.
Declared Elysia had no taste whatsoever.
The humiliation had burned for months.
Yet later, entirely by accident, Elysia overheard palace maids gossiping.
The bangles had never been discarded.
Sylrienne wore them often.
She had loved them.
She simply hated Elysia more.
Even now, Elysia didn’t know why.
The princess had disliked her from the beginning.
Nothing Elysia did had ever changed that.
This time, however, things were different.
The gift wasn’t for Sylrienne.
Not really.
It was for the King.
For Cassiel.
For the dignity of Draevenor Manor.
Whether the princess liked it or not was entirely irrelevant.
Following memory alone, Elysia arrived at the jeweler.
Fortunately, she wasn’t too late.
The bangles were still being carved.
A craftsman sat by the window polishing the unfinished stone.
Elysia pointed immediately.
"Those."
The shopkeeper blinked.
Then beamed.
"My lady has excellent taste."
Elysia didn’t wait for them to be finished.
She paid in full on the spot.
"When they’re polished and boxed, send someone next door."
The merchant bowed repeatedly.
"Of course, Your Grace."
"I’ll have them prepared personally."
Satisfied, Elysia left.
The building next door was far less impressive.
A small tavern.
Modest.
Old-fashioned.
And perpetually struggling.
Most taverns in Caelvyr had long abandoned storytellers.
Music attracted more customers.
Dancers attracted even more.
But this tavern stubbornly clung to tradition.
Instead of musicians and performers, it relied on storytellers spinning tales late into the evening.
Naturally, business suffered.
Elysia pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The smell of tea and old wood greeted her immediately.
A faint smile appeared on her face.
This place belonged to her Aunt Imogen.
Years ago, when Elysia’s eldest uncle fell in battle at only twenty-seven, Imogen had been carrying his child.
The shock of his death had cost her the baby.
Afterward, her father had made a promise.
As long as he lived, Imogen would never want for support.
And even after his death...
Some promises still deserved to be kept.