Eric and Emma spent the rest of the morning pouring over large stacks of loose parchment, thick tomes, and delicate scrolls. They had received them from the Royal Cleark shortly after breakfast, and they contained all the financial details of Raven’s Hall from the past few months. Long columns of amounts paid, earned, and stored. There was almost an entire book just on the taxes they paid every month, and the storm of figures was starting to make Eric’s head hurt. He’d never had a head for math.

Thankfully, Emma was more than used to these forms thanks to the business she ran with her father, and so her assistance was beyond helpful. She’d spotted Eric groaning under the weight of the papers and offered her help, which he’d gratefully accepted. It didn’t take her long to find and show him the records for his monthly allowance from the crown. It showed that his maintenance costs and pay for staff totaled about four hundred, twenty-seven gold pieces, and six silver. A huge amount to him, but completely necessary for his estate to function.

Emma explained the different expenses to him, pointing out each section as she described them. She was patient, and within an hour, Eric was able to recite everything she’d told him. He wasn’t exactly stupid, math just didn’t sink into his head as easily as other things might. He thanked her repeatedly for her help, offering to take her to the Heron to repay the favor. It was easier to say it that way than to make it sound like a date, he thought.

“Maybe for dinner,” she’d said, frowning down at the other papers. “There’s something off about your records, Eric. I think it’s best if we settle it now, so it doesn’t hurt you in the future.”

Eric had turned to her in confusion, and she began breaking down each of the other records that the Royal Clerk had given him. There were taxes that the estate paid, of course. Emma only had to scan for five minutes before she spotted an irregularity, and told him that he was actually behind a fair bit. His estate still owed somewhere near one-hundred and eighty gold pieces, she said.

“What that useless steward has been doing,” she burst out angrily, “I don’t know. But it certainly wasn’t his job.”

“Matthew was in charge of taxes,” the Head Chef commented, passing by them with a pot of fresh coffee. He poured Emma a cup without being asked. “We just assumed he took care of them. We never had cuts in any of the other necessities, so there was no sign he was missing anything.”

“I don’t think he missed it,” Emma said in a low voice after the Head Chef had departed. “It’s a similar amount each month. No business has records this perfect and repeated. Not even mine, and we haven’t changed prices since the war.”

“Okay,” Eric said, driving the conversation forward. “So I have to pay all this back. Shouldn’t be hard. We can just take it out of the allowance, right?”

“Oh no,” she replied, shaking her head slowly. “That would be worse. Much worse. I suggest you bring this to the Royal Clerk’s attention and tell him that you will repay it all, but you need a little time.”

“If you think that’s best,” He said hesitantly. He personally didn’t see what difference it would make if he just paid them back out of the allowance. Not that he could, he thought. So far he hadn’t found a treasury in the house, or anything that faintly resembled one. When he’d asked the staff, they’d simply said that they were paid every month and didn’t question it. He mentioned the thought to Emma now.

“I’m not sure,” she said slowly, clearly thinking it through. “If it’s an expense sponsored by the crown, then it makes sense that it would be controlled by them too. I imagine you merely report the expenses to them each month, and they manage the funds past that.”

“So basically,” Eric said, making sure that his thinking was correct. “All this can be solved simply by talking to the Royal Clerk again.”

“Probably,” she agreed, leaning back in her chair and picking up the mug of steaming coffee. “He could probably tell you how to submit the expenses for this month. But you should hire a new steward. Estates, even small ones like this, need a steward.”

“Fair enough.”

Eric got to his feet and stretched, grimacing as his stiff muscles protested the unexpected movement. “Right. I’ll stop by the clerks before I go to the Guard’s Guild.”

Emma gave him a small wave as he left, then got up herself. Eric faintly heard her tell the chef that she was headed up for a bath, then was headed to her shop for a few hours. He was out of earshot before he could hear the reply, walking purposefully across the small entry hall and through the double doors. The sun was at its highest point in the sky now, and the temperature was sweltering. He hated the heat, being from Alaska, and immediately wished he could take his armor off.

The office of the Royal Clerk was empty, save for the man himself. Just as in the morning, he sat behind his large desk, scrutinizing piles of parchment. A pair of thick spectacles was perched on the end of his long thin nose, magnifying his eyes to almost an alarming degree. He was muttering quietly to himself as he read and thought Eric couldn’t make out the words, he was sure it was the man’s way of remembering what he read. Eric cleared his throat gently to get the man’s attention, and the clerk jumped slightly.

“What now?” He muttered tersely. Then, spotting Eric, he clambered slowly to his feet. He was quite old, and moved carefully, grabbing a cane by his desk and lurching over. “Ah, you have returned. Did you learn what you wanted to from the papers, young sir?”

“Yes,” Eric said. “Thank you very much for lending them to me. A close friend of mine is studying them still, and she’s helping me get everything in line.”

“Good, good,” the man said, wobbling slightly where he stood. “Was there something else I could help you with, sir?”

“Yes,” Eric agreed. “But please, sit down. You don’t have to go through any trouble for me.”

The Royal Clerk shook his head, grinning at Eric’s concern. “Don’t you worry about me, young man. I need to stretch my legs now and again, or I’ll be stuck in that hard chair forever!”

“Right,” Eric said, chuckling quietly. “Well, my friend pointed out to me that Raven’s Hall is behind in taxes. I still owe you about a hundred and fifty gold.”

“Ah. Have you come to pay it now, then?”

“Well,” Eric said hesitantly. “No. I’m afraid I don’t have that much to my name. But I do fully intend to pay it. I was just letting you know, and hope you will allow me some time.”

The old man waved a hand dismissively. “Take your time, boy. You’ve had the house less than a month, so there’s bound to be some hiccups. Was that all?”

“Err, no.” Eric shifted awkwardly. He hadn’t expected the man to be so understanding with the debt. “My mentor has told me that I should hire some guards for my estate. I’m familiar enough with the hiring process, but I don’t know how to make sure they’re paid.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” the clerk said with a wheezy laugh. He reached behind him without looking and yanked a slip of parchment free from the stacks on his desk. “Just present this to the secretary at the Guard’s Guild, and he’ll get you what you need, no problem.”

“Oh, that is easy.” He folded the paper and put it away in his satchel. “Thank you, sir.”

The old man nodded and hobbled back to his chair. “Well, if that’s all, I’ll get back to work.”

Eric nodded and retreated from the office. It was located in the outer area of the Royal Palace, just inside the high protective wall. Dozens of Maravino patrolled around the wall here, and Eric attracted a few curious looks as he exited the clerk’s office, shaking his head and muttering his confusion. Today was a strange day, he thought. He’d expected many things of his life in Ahya, but days of maintenance weren’t it.

Almost as if Ahya herself were listening to this thought, he encountered trouble the instant he stepped foot in the Miltary building that housed the headquarters of the Guard’s Guild. The secretary working today was the same annoying old man who had given him the information to pursue his training. He heaved a deep sigh, summoning all the patience that he had, and approached the desk.

“Good afternoon,” he said crisply. “I’m here to hire some guards for my estate.”

Not having noticed his rapid approach, the old man responded instantly to the firm tone of his voice and the words he chose. He rose to his feet at once, a sycophantic smile forming on his face.

“Of course, good sir! I will be honored to help you!” He glanced up then and recognized Eric. “Oh. It’s you again, is it boy?”

Eric raised an eyebrow. The speed at which the old secretary had switched tones was impressive, he thought, if perhaps a bit rude. “Yes, it is me again. I believe you will need this.”

He retrieved the folded piece of paper and handed it across the desk, leaning forward slightly. Something about his determined air registered with the old man, and he took a step back, a snarl of impatience crossing his face. However, he seemed too taken aback to produce a sarcastic retort, so he snatched the paper from his hands to give himself time to think. He looked down and scanned the document, the frown deepening on his face.

“What is this?” He asked, glaring up at Eric. “How’d you get the Royal Crest on yer documents, boy?”

Eric took a deep breath, suppressing the impulse to say something rude back. But only barely. Instead, he reached inside his collar and tugged on the chain around his neck. The amulet given to him by the Queen flipped out into the open, conveniently catching the light of a nearby lantern and glittering invitingly. The secretary’s eyes fixed onto it at once, and he leaned forward to get a closer look. Eric could almost see the color draining from his face, and had to hide a smirk.

“Care to try that again?” Eric asked, his voice quiet. He had a lot more spine since the last time he’d been here, courtesy of his training with Ehran.

The secretary was flustered, no doubt about that. He spluttered for a moment, trying to regain his poise, and failing miserably. Eric quietly enjoyed his loss of composure, waiting patiently for him to reply. An off-balance enemy will make a mistake on his own, Ehran had said. There was no reason to force it. Finally, the secretary seemed to gather himself. He offered a stiff bow.

“My apologies, Sir,” he said, his voice unnaturally soft. “Please forgive my rudeness. It would be my honor to help you find what you need.”

“Oh, save your breath,” Eric retorted with a scoff. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

“Right,” he said, rubbing his hands uncomfortably. “How many guards are you seeking, sir?”

“Two guards will do for now,” he said. “C-Tier at the minimum.”

“Of course, of course. And do you have a preference in their skill-set?”

“Not really,” Eric thought back to the good job he’d gotten right off the bat. “As long as they’re honest and do the job properly, they’re good enough.”

“I assure you they will be competent, sir. I will personally send you word by the end of the week. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No,” Eric replied, already turning away. “I’ll await your reply..”