Right. Eru was mute now.
The thought settled in Ett's mind with a strange quietness. No immediate rage. No trembling fury. Only a cold, steady understanding.
Those wretched bastards had done their work well.
Let them enjoy it.
They can have their feast, drink, and laugh among themselves. Let them congratulate one another and believe the matter had ended cleanly. The more secure a person felt, the more careless they became, and careless men always left doors open behind them.
Ett had no intention of rushing.
What was the quote again? Revenge is a dish best served cold.
For now, Eru would recover. The little one had endured enough pain, fear, and humiliation, wounds that ran deeper than flesh. Some injuries required silence and time before they could even begin to mend.
"Goodness," she muttered suddenly, the thought shifting tracks. "I've delayed Cashim's promotion."
Leaning against the cushions, she almost laughed.
Ett could already picture Cashim's reaction: back straight as a spear, brows furrowed in stern irritation, pacing through corridors like a hunting hound desperately sniffing for a trail. Cashim was nearly all the high nobles right now, hoping she could find that mysterious girl and lady.
It would be fun to irritate him a little by delaying his promotion. Uh, why does it feel like she is a bit cheerful today?
"Matriarch?"
Sheesh, no one calls her Matriarch other than Ares; somehow, it's uncomfortable, but hey, she would remember her other identity.
"Come in."
The door opened with a quiet slide. Ares stepped inside first, composed as ever, servants following behind him with a tray.
Breakfast.
Ett blinked slowly, her mind still sluggish from sleep.
"How many days?"
"A single day," Ares replied smoothly. "You slept only one day, Matriarch.
"Oh."
That was acceptable.
Ett rose from her seat and made her way back to the study. Yes, work. Work. Work. The sleeves of her robe brushed the carved edges of the table as she settled into her chair.
Work waited patiently.
The reports were stacked neatly, as if they had been sitting there quietly, judging her brief collapse.
The first matter was obvious.
Cashim's promotion.
She began sorting through the compiled records, battle achievements, political maneuvering, and recommendations discreetly gathered from officials who owed him favors. Each piece had been arranged in order of importance.
"How nice."
A noble title required stability.
"Well, if the nobility complain, let him handle it."
So what if they think a new person seems favored by His Majesty?
Besides, Guren would not interfere.
"Now, why did I think of him?"
What is that child even doing now?
"Hm."
She needs to ask something.
"Ares."
Yes, Ares is easier to deal with. If she asks a random question, everything has a meaning for Akan.
"You called Matriarch."
Ares entered the chamber.
"Do you know what the Emperor is doing right now?"
Ares briefly paused.
"Ah, His Majesty you say?"
Akan was a bit taken aback. This was the first time she had asked about the Emperor directly. That alone made the question notable.
Ett frowned. "Is there any other son I have?"
Okay, never mind. Akan slightly infected this guy. Well, that's lovely.
"Apologies, I mispoke. The Emperor seems to spend his time either in the private training grounds or within his study."
Ett's finger stopped tapping the parchment.
"He does not rest in this chamber?"
"Perhaps."
Perhaps?
That's not a good word.
"What do you mean?"
Ares looked troubled, "I cannot truly say, Matriarch."
Because he truly doesn't know.
"I see."
Then she would ask Butler Xiwen herself later.
At this rate, that child would work himself into the grave.
She had seen such endings before, colleagues hunched over desks until their backs bent permanently, eyes dry from sleepless nights. And they attained the enlightenment of becoming a shrimp. She's one of those shrimps before.
Trying to reduce His Majesty's duty, but just like loans, so are the papers piling up endlessly.
Okay, training is admirable.
Discipline is admirable, too.
But bro, must he also abandon sleep? Didn't scientists say that your brain eats itself if you don't have enough sleep?
"Ugh." Ett coughed.
What a headache, making me see myself from you, and now my conscience just has to butt in. Being raised with a good conscience is both good and a heartache, but hey, it just shows Ett still has a bit of herself. Well, she loves and hates herself.
"Give this to him?"
Ett gathered several finished reports and neatly tied them together with labels. She almost tied it as a ribbon, then changed her mind and secured it with a simple cord tie.
These were not gifts.
Just information.
The stack was small enough not to overwhelm him, but enough to keep him informed. Even if Ett handled matters for him temporarily, he needed to know additional details.
"As you wish, Matriarch."
Ares said, taking the bundle.
After he left, Ett stretched her back until her spine popped softly. She's just a child, la.
"List. Where am I now?"
Her gaze drifted to the small black notebook on her desk, and she flipped it open.
Eru is now mute.
That problem would have to wait until she found a more creative approach.
Then, Akan, how far had he progressed? Should she summon him? Or venture out again herself?
"But it's so tiring." She likes being locked up here, well, not truly locked up, cooped up, and then stares at her window.
See, she can see those black roses from the garden.
Their petals were dark as spilled ink, drinking in the afternoon light. It's calming to look at.
Back on Earth, black roses barely existed. The famous Halfeti roses from Turkey turn a very deep inky red or black during summer due to soil acidity, but they are not inherently black.
Yet they flourished, and only here in these imperial grounds.
According to records, none had ever grown outside the royal gardens of the Adiand Empire. Many had attempted cultivation elsewhere.
All had failed.
As if the very soil beneath the palace possessed some secret no other land could replicate.
And perhaps that rarity made them more precious. No wonder the novel's female lead loves it, too. And it's a symbol of status, whether FL likes it or not.
Who would dare imitate the Emperor's garden?
"Hayst…"
Her breath drifted softly in the cool air. "Here I am, having random thoughts again."
Mulling and at times contradicting herself, drowning in her hazy thoughts.
Guren was still a child.
Yet the burden resting upon his shoulders would crush many grown men. So different from the children in an era in which they still possess a room for immaturity. Besides, whether she's lazy or not, that doesn't mean Ett doesn't have a bit of pride. As an adult, she should not pressure her child. Been there, done that, can't pass that generational pattern.
Besides, if she relaxed too much, her plans would stretch endlessly into the future. How would she secure a comfortable retirement before she dies?
"Maybe just a year's retirement?" Like, she really won't do anything at those times but eat, sleep, and poop. Living a hedonistic life. Okay, except harem. Legally, she's married no matter what, and she's sticking to monogamy even though her mind would often wander to the land of depravity. Hehe.
Alright, that's not a good laugh. That's creepy.
"Hatchoo!"
Ugh.
"Well, that snapped me out," Ett mumbled as a warm line slipped from her nose. With zero grace, she balled up her handkerchief and shoved it right in, blocking it off entirely, like a child determined to stop the bleeding at all costs.
If this reshaped her nose into something tragic… well, at least her face would finally differ from canon.
Really, even enjoying yourself just looking at the window for some time has its consequences, and she can't pull out her thick blanket to wrap herself in.
By the time Ares returned, it was already turning dusk.
"Ares. Invite the Commander to dine this evening."
Ares nodded.
"As you will."
That evening, she transformed once again, her robes arranged perfectly, her expression gentle and composed like a porcelain doll prepared for court.
In truth, she wanted to retire and live quietly like a salted fish.
But a salted fish does not accumulate wealth.
Clang.
"Oh. Sorry."
Her fork slipped and struck the plate.
A servant replaced it instantly.
"Your Grace."
"Once we finish eating."
"Yes."
The Book of Ethics contained no rule against discussing state matters during dinner. So we're good. However, it's better to eat first. Once done, they can discuss.
After awhile, "Commander," Ett started calmly.
"Your Grace."
"How far has the work progressed?"
"Half has been completed," Gammarad replied. "His Majesty assisted with certain matters." Ett blinked.
Guren? Well, that's unexpected. The boy won't stop turning his gears on, such a dedicated villain—no wonder he's gone crazy.
"When I failed to meet Your Grace earlier," Gammarad explained, "I met His Majesty. He inquired about what I am holding, then about the condition of the army."
Likely a casual question that became something deeper.
Gammarad bowed down, "The knights and I, as their Commander, felt honored."
"???"
"This is the first time Your Grace has involved yourself directly with the militia."
"Is that so?" Welp, another strikeout of the regular OG Ett. As long as the results...won't affect the story too much.
Alright, she's gaslighting herself now.
"Yes."
"Just a whim. What did His Majesty say?"
"His Majesty believes the restructuring is well timed. Knights may specialize more distinctly, though dividing authority will require patience.
Reasonable.
"The head of the mstovaris remains undecided," Gammarad continued.
"Another drafted division concerns assassination, excluding His Majesty's personal guard."
Those shadows belonged solely to Guren.
Ett rested her chin lightly on her fingers.
"How do you determine who qualifies as mstovaris or assassin?"
"We test their physical skill and espionage ability?"
"Physical trials?"
"Yes?"
Hm. "That is not enough."
Gammarad had a questioning look.
"Commander, strength alone created blunt weapons."
But she wanted something sharper.
Information.
Secrets.
Every whisper of a scandal across neighboring empires. And being the first one to know has its perks, like a seasoned journalist.
Information could purchase alliances or destroy them. Isn't the House of Isotel doing a good job of entertaining the nobles' gossip and Cashim's networking skills of hoarding information?
"Commander, why must the misovaris remain in the corners? Why not let them stand in the light?"
Gammarad paused.
"Your Grace means…attaining rank while living under a guise?"
Ett sipped her water calmly.
"Indeed. A mstovaris may assist an assassin, or stand openly among officials. They need not belong to only one shadow."
What Adiand likes to do is hide in the shadows. It's good, but standing in the light and having a shadow paired up is better. Aren't other empires doing it?
They do have more people, and Adrian has yet to see what is needed as a strategy to maximize the efficiency of e the deficiency.
They must become like Akan.
Adaptable.
Fluid, like a fish swimming in the water, then splat! She'll just be careful that such fish won't slip out of her hands.
"I almost forgot, Ares."
Ares, who was at earshot distance like a shadow, walked up to Ett.
"Matriarch."
"Gammarad assists Ares for a bit. Send me the data from last month to last year, if you can, on our agricultural output."
Ares frowned. "Agri? Out?"
What? He doesn't understand those terms, although he noted them down.
"The harvest," Ett clarified. "Wheat, barley, rice from every province. Exact tallies where possible. Estimates were not."
Her voice grew steadier as her thoughts aligned.
"Include livestock. Cattle, sheep, horses, poultry. Losses from disease or drought, and deaths."
This would take them time. A lot of time and Ett is not in a rush. But these people are smart; if they can maximize information and people from outside, that'll be faster.
Gammarad listened carefully.
This was…unusual.
Ett continued, now deliberate.
"If there is uncertainty, state it. I want truth, not comfort. Put it in the Adiand's treasury."
Surely…they still have some.
This was not how things were usually done.
In truth, such matters were scattered, handled by the local lords, scribes, and tax collectors. No single body gathered it all. Reports were inconsistent, delayed, and sometimes embellished.
Ett knew this.
Come on, isn't this normal, and much more prevalent in this era, no matter how secluded Adiand is and loyal? What can stop a man from his greed? Strength of Guren, but that doesn't mean they aren't curious cats sniffing a trap cheese meant for rats.
She also knows why.
There was no system.
No central accounting.
No structure to bind information into something reliable.
And she is a lazy, trashy person who likes this kind of comfort for now.
She can only start small.
A taste. Say, a fragment.
"Treat it as... a unified ledger," Ett paused. "A record of what the land yields."
Not a command beyond their comprehension.
Just a shape. There are bright minds out there who can improve it.
Just a shape.
Something simple enough to follow.
"Gather what you can. We will refine it later."
Gammarad bowed.
"As you command, Your Grace."
Well…he did not fully understand. But he understood enough.
And that was sufficient.
Ett leaned back.
"Alright, both of you leave and discuss what to do onward."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Understood, Matriarch. A maid will attend you shortly."
"Alright."
Not everything could be changed at once.
Too much, too fast, and the system would break.
But a single ledger?
A single attempt to gather a little more truth from scattered hands could be done.
And once it existed, it could grow.
Quietly.
Like roots beneath the soil.
Until one day, it held the entire structure together.
"But that day, both Guren and I won't be able to see it."
For they will die, and a new era for Adiand will begin, with the male and female's rule.
That…that will surely add a more credible buffer than they will ever be.
Ett's villainous child. Well, at least they'll die together…a consolation that Guren won't be alone.
"Haha. Isn't it warm?"
Why is her nose bleeding again?