The sounds of paper scribbling filled the air as Farah wrote down a contract. Given that all members of the Moon Lords had a share in the profits, which had to be equally distributed save for the countess’ larger share, Dia had to negotiate with the countess and use her own share as payment.

In the end, they reached a satisfactory conclusion. Farah, obviously, wasn’t actually expecting that she would get four-tenths of whatever rewards that the Moon Lords would reap from engaging in economic warfare with the Istrel Dukedom; she just wanted to get a better bargaining position.

Having recognised that standard tactic at first glance, Dia played along and let Farah dictate the price. In the first place, asking the countess to help was already pushing it; Dia’s contract in joining the Moon Lords was one that guaranteed her personal safety, not one that asked them to protect her brother, father and the rest of her extended family. More importantly, she had no say in deciding how much the others should receive, which was why she was essentially paying out of her own pocket.

The way Farah adapted to this change of events was a bit too fast, though.

“This alright with you?”

The others watched as Dia picked up the contract, which had been rewritten for the fifth time. Personally, Dia would have been fine with the earlier editions, but Farah had stopped her from signing them at the last moment. She would then lower the price Dia was supposed to pay for her help, as if her conscience wouldn’t allow it.

Scanning through the document for what was hopefully the last time, Dia noted that she was now just paying thirty percent of her share to Farah, which was quite a drastic drop from fifty.

“It is, but isn’t it treating you a bit too lightly?” Dia asked. “From half to one-third…”

The countess waved her hand impatiently. “Don’t think too hard about it. Knowing myself, if I didn’t do this, I would have incrementally lowered your payment by five percent each time anyway, and I don’t really want to rewrite this thing anymore. If you don’t have an issue, re-read it once more, and then we’ll hand this over to Schwarz.”

Dia scanned through the contract again. It was a simple statement of responsibilities; Farah would ‘take necessary steps to enrich the Moon Lords with the Istrel Dukedom as the target’. The countess had phrased her words in such a manner, so that she wouldn’t be implicated if it ever got out.

The chances of something like this happening was zero, so Dia could only assume that this wasn’t the first time Farah had engaged in shady activities spanning entire territories. Normally, this was a cause of alarm, but the countess was her ally through and through.

Producing a small seal and an inkpad, she pressed it down on the document. Silence continued to reign as she handed it over to Schwarz, who eyed the complicated pattern with interest, before he scuttled off to keep it in the safe.

“What’s wrong?” Dia asked, suddenly very aware of the deafening silence.

“That seal…that’s Princess Dia’s, right?” Risti asked. “Can I take a look at it?”

It was disappointing that they didn’t ask why she had it, but Dia knew that even if she told the truth, the others would just assume that she had been entrusted with it. In fact, she could even feel their deepening trust by virtue of holding the seal — the ‘real’ Princess Dia clearly trusted her body double enough to let her make decisions that had consequences.

Dia found the fact that she could predict the next minute or so quite unnerving. It was a testament to how well she understood the two, as well as how devoted the two to their idol.

In a sense, they were friends.

As the two ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ over the intricate little seal, Schwarz returned from storing the agreement. The bartender raised a nice little eyebrow as he took in the sight, and his lips twitched.

Dia felt her own lips twitch in reply, as she struggled to hide her laughter.

“Hmm.”

She glanced at the bartender’s expression. Did he realise something was off? Granted, she was already different from the others to begin with — for one, unlike the others, she didn’t wax and wane about the great qualities of Princess Dia. One part was because she didn’t like bragging, but more importantly, she didn’t recall doing anything that actually warranted adoration from others.

As far as she could remember, the Princess Dia of yesteryear was just an administrator, as well as an avid swordswoman who loved her chocolate and grilled meat.

“Something wrong?” Schwarz asked, his clear eyes fixed on her.

“N-no, nothing.” She smiled. “I’m just wondering when they’ll return the seal — Farah and Risti seem to be on the verge of treating it as a Moon.”

Schwarz chuckled. “True, very true. But the chances of you getting it back in the next five minutes is less than zero, given that Risti apparently feels like stamping it on the back of her hand.

Dia looked back in alarm, and then reached out to grab the seal before Risti could land her into trouble by stamping a proof of ownership on her body. The Emperor had outlawed slavery sometime back; anyone caught engaging in the practice would be sentenced to death on the spot.

“Wait, let me stamp it on my hand!”

“You’re going to land someone in trouble, dolt!” Slapping aside Risti, Dia stowed her seal. “Don’t you know that stamping someone with a seal is an old way of marking out slaves? Slavery is a capital crime now!”

Farah jolted. “Oh, right. Risti, you’ll get Princess Dia into trouble if you really stamped that on your hand.”

“Why are you scolding me? Didn’t you want to stamp it on your chest just now?”

Dia eyed the countess, who began to frantically deny that accusation. For some reason, she didn’t quite buy it, but since she had at least a level of self-awareness that Risti lacked, she decided not to press the topic.

“A refill, master.”

“Call me that once more and you’re going to pay for the drink,” Schwarz replied. Despite his words, however, the bartender filled up her empty glass, and Dia shivered in delight as the apple juice went down her throat. She could see why Claud liked it so much; it reminded her of ingesting lifestones.

“Thanks, Schwarz.”

Dia felt a sense of peace, having gotten Farah’s help in dealing with a threat to her father. Sure, she might have parted ways with her father on bad terms, but Dia had a feeling that he had intended to let her flee to begin with. As a duke, how was it possible that a one-folder could even escape that easily? In fact, over the past few days, she had a feeling that those rumours about how she squashed an army or two was something her father spread deliberately to help her by deterring small fry.

A small part of her mind, the pessimistic part, told her that their efforts were nothing much in the face of Emperor Grandis’ support, but Dia didn’t want to listen to that bit. Anything was better than nothing, no matter what, and perhaps their little efforts could be the thing that tipped the scales.

That same bit once again accused her of being overly optimistic, but Dia didn’t pay that part any attention, choosing to partake of her apple juice instead. Downing the remainder in one go, she enjoyed the velvety texture.

“Is it really that good?” Farah asked.

“It’s a gift from the Moons,” Dia replied. “You should really give it a try…”

“I haven’t forgotten the last time I tried one of his drinks,” Farah replied, her face darkened with annoyance. “My face still stings whenever I think about it.”

“Schwarz, pour her a cup. Maybe she’ll see the need to set up the Apple Juice Fund out of her profits,” Dia said.

“Yeah, keep dreaming.”

While the bartender busied himself with persuading Farah to try a sip, Dia turned her attention to Risti, who was looking at a bunch of documents. Normally, she didn’t have the habit of asking about work, but the amused look on Risti’s face was enough to make her curious.

“What’s so interesting about that?”

“Well, it’s about Julan. I’m afraid Lily and Claud won’t be able to do whatever they were planning on doing there,” said Risti. “The whole barony’s on lockdown now.”

“What happened there?” Dia asked.

“You will not believe it,” said Risti, plucking out a document. “Apparently, eyewitnesses saw the entire Julan Mansion fly last night.”

“Fly?”

For a moment, Dia tried to imagine a mansion with wings, but her imagination wasn’t up to snuff.

“Yes. Well, something launched the mansion moonwards, and it shook itself to pieces as it flew. There weren’t any survivors,” said Risti.

“Is it possible that Claud did that?” Farah asked. “Lily’s a good girl, and Claud was intending to head there in the first place.”

“Him? The chances of Tot being the culprit is far higher,” Risti replied. “It seems that the cause of the disaster was lots of explosives, and I don’t think Claud uses explosives. I can’t picture that death-fearing fellow using it.”

For some reason, Dia had a nagging feeling that they were missing something out, but after thinking through it for a while, she decided to let it pass.

“True…” Dia nodded.

“Anyway, details are still quite sketchy, and…”