Christmas had arrived, and only a few days remained before the new year, also the time when the entire business system of Anderson Estate simultaneously submitted their profit reports. The stewards in the estate were running around like a hive of disturbed bees.
The first to report was Alexie the butler, who oversaw resource coordination and landowner fees:
"Young master, the revenues from the Northeastern territories have been transferred into the fund. This year, it increased by two percent compared to last year. The first shipment of wild goods has arrived at the warehouse; three more wagons of fur are on their way, expected to reach the capital in ten days."
Another steward continued:
"Profits from the more than three hundred shops in Nightcrest City have also been entered into the ledgers. An increase of fifty thousand from last year."
These were all seasoned people hands never trembling when talking about money. They recited their reports as fluently as reading a recipe book.
Joseph was reviewing a government memorial when he suddenly interrupted:
"Has the shipment for the National Crafting Bureau been delivered?"
The steward in charge of government correspondence immediately replied:
"As per your instructions, three percent of the Ivorygate City shop revenues have been allocated to the National Crafting Bureau, delivered through the Bureau of State Protocol."
The Bureau of State Protocol was an agency directly serving the royal household. A few years ago, the government had gone through several major wars in succession, nearly draining the national treasury.
Though Joseph had worked hard to turn the situation around, a government that large always needed money patch up one side and another side opened.
King Lycan, a wise ruler, always said: "Better I suffer than let the people suffer." As his subject, how could Joseph watch the king "suffer"?
Thus, every year, the Anderson family donated a portion of their income to the palace. It was an unspoken understanding between Joseph and the Bureau of State Protocol.
When the finances were done, it was the steward from the Ministry of Justice's turn a rough man responsible for disciplining misbehaving clan members:
"Young master, today Buono from Room Eleven went out seeking prostitutes and was reported by Heaton from Room Seven."
Joseph frowned, displeased."How many times this year?"
"Eighth time, sir, almost once every month. Only in May and June did he behave himself because he was sick."
An old man still craving such things, setting a terrible example for the younger generation. Joseph didn't even look up:
"Send him to the Observation Ward. Cut all his allowances, record the misconduct under Room Eleven, and reduce his salary for the year."
"Yes, sir."
Joseph asked again:
"And how exactly did Heaton report it? Was he present at the scene?"
The steward gave a bitter smile:
"Young master, the Heatons and the Buonos have hated each other for years. It's the end of the year, bonuses are coming so spying on each other is common. But I have investigated; Heaton never set foot into the Black Orchid Club."
Joseph sighed.It was good for clan members to keep each other in check, but he couldn't allow people to exploit loopholes and turn clan rules into a weapon. Criticism must still be given fairly.
His voice turned cold:
"I recall Heaton likes truffle mushroom risotto very much. Tell the kitchen to prepare a large bowl. Send it to him and say it is my courtesy."
Everyone understood the implication: a hot dish for a hot-tempered man let him reflect on himself.
The steward tried not to laugh, then withdrew.
…
By ten at night, the work was finally done. Joseph pinched the bridge of his nose, looking at the warm golden light spreading from the goat-horn desk lamp, softening the entire room.
He stood, put on his cloak, and headed toward the bedroom.
A short hallway led from the study directly to the front courtyard of the bedroom. As he stepped onto the porch, warm light spilled from the east chamber.
He wasn't sure if Vecna was asleep yet.
The gate attendant reported his arrival. Maya stepped out, lifted the curtain, invited him inside, and personally removed his cloak:
"Young master, the lady has already gone to bed."
Joseph had bathed at the office, so after washing his hands, he entered the inner room.
The curtains were lowered, and soft golden light spilled outward, revealing the silhouette of someone propped against a pillow reading, me, clearly not asleep yet.
He gave a quiet cough to announce himself.
…
In truth, I had heard him from earlier.
I had been sleepy since early evening, but it felt… somewhat improper to fall asleep before my husband came home. And after "mooching" his roasted goose today, I felt obligated to wait.
I stood up, lifted the curtain, holding a small lamp:
"Young master, you're back."
I was taller than most women here, slender and upright not the soft, delicate type of noble ladies. Under the lamplight, I saw him staring at me with an unreadable expression.
Joseph gave a slight nod:
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
Seeing I was lightly dressed, he reached to take the lamp from my hand. The light shone onto his flawless face features sculpted as if by a perfectionist artisan, one more stroke too much, one less too little.
A while later, once everything settled down, we both lay in bed.
Tonight I had the red wine braised lamb, so my body felt a little warm, I couldn't sleep. He wasn't any better; the faint cool scent around me lingered near his nose, keeping him restless.
Hearing me shift, realizing I was still awake, he asked:
"What perfume are you using? Or is it some essential oil for your clothes?"
I blinked. I hadn't used any perfume or oils just the scent from the pills Karen forced me to take.
I couldn't tell the truth, so I improvised:
"It's Starborne Elixir."
Joseph said:
"Please give me the formula. I'll have someone make it."
I choked. That was medicine, not fragrance. I gave a soft laugh:
"I'll look for it. If I recall it, I'll give it to you."
And if I couldn't find it… well, no one could blame me.
Joseph nodded.
Outside, rain pattered gently against the window bars steady and soft like a lullaby.
Joseph's eyes gradually closed.
Mine drifted shut as well.
…
I didn't know how long had passed when something soft and cool brushed against his arm.
Joseph jolted awake.
Vecna, in her half-asleep daze, had burrowed into his blanket, hers was thinner, and the night was cold.
He turned his head. Her face was right in front of him, and any trace of sleepiness… vanished instantly.