Chapter 7: The Water of Life and the Ledgers of Death
The carriage hadn't even cleared the outskirts of Frankfurt when the iron-shod wheels ground to a jarring halt. Julian, who had been mentally calculating how many more sugar-dusted bunnies he could extort from his aunt, was nearly thrown into her lap.
"What now?" Mathilde murmured, her hand instinctively dropping to the hidden hilt of the stiletto beneath her silk skirts.
Outside, the silhouette of a massive black carriage blocked the narrow road. The door bore the crest of a weeping mountain—House Schwarzberg. A tall, pale figure stepped out, her white hair catching the dying sunlight like spun silver.
"Emilia," Julian whispered.
The "Villainess" approached the window. She didn't look at Mathilde; her ruby eyes were fixed solely on Julian. She looked like a woman who had spent the last hour deciding whether to commit a murder or a political merger.
"Lord Merania," Emilia's voice was cool, but there was a tremor of suppressed urgency in it. "You spoke of a pact. Of 'mobs' and 'villainesses' biting back. My father's house is isolated, and the Habsburgs' 'protection' is a cage I refuse to inhabit."
Julian leaned out the window, a smirk playing on his lips. "And what is your price for this bite, Lady Emilia?"
"Information," she replied. "The Habsburgs plan to use the Sky Pirate Crusade as a screen to annex the smaller silver mines in the Erzgebirge. If your house stays 'invisible,' you'll be crushed in the crossfire. Watch the northern borders, Julian. Not just the southern ones."
She turned to leave, but stopped. "And... thank you. For looking at me in the Hall."
[System Notification: Flag Triggered!]
[Emilia von Schwarzberg Affection: +5 (Total: 5/100)]
[Sarcastic Commentary: Oh, bravo. You've successfully charmed a girl who is one bad day away from burning down a cathedral. Your taste in women is as suicidal as your political strategy.]
The carriage began to move again. Mathilde was silent for a long moment, her grey-blue eyes studying Julian with a terrifying intensity.
"You need to grow up, Julian," she said suddenly, her voice devoid of its usual teasing lilt. "Managing a domain isn't a game of riddles. The Duke of Saxony—Otto of House Welf—wasn't just posturing. He wants small houses relocated because it clears the map for the Great Houses to expand. If Merania doesn't become 'useful' or 'manageable' within the week, we will be the speed bumps on the road to Naples."
"I know, Aunt. I'm trying to—"
"Beautiful women are always correct, aren't they?" he teased, trying to lighten the mood. "And a woman as stunning as my aunt must be 100% accurate."
[System Message: Warning. Don't trust her.]
'What? You think she'll betray me?'
[Correction: I am not saying she will betray you. I am saying that your absolute reliance on her 'beauty' and 'guidance' is going to backfire spectacularly. You are letting your hormones write the ledger, Julian. It will end in fire.]
'You're just jealous I have a beautiful aunt and you're a bunch of blue pixels,' Julian shot back.
[System: Yeah, yeah. I'm green with envy. Go train your magic before you drown in your own lust.]
The Homecoming of the Broken House
The shattered manor of Merania came into view as the sun dipped below the horizon. It wasn't a palace; it was a fortress held together by prayer and stubbornness.
As they stepped out, Baroness Elspeth, Julian's mother, practically tackled him. She checked his ears, his teeth, and his fingers as if he'd been through a war rather than a Diet.
"He's in one piece, Elspeth," Baron Maximilian growled, though his weary eyes softened as they landed on his son. He looked Julian up and down, his hand resting on the pommel of his weathered sword. "Well? Did you embarrass the name? Did you stutter before the Staufen?"
"Actually," Mathilde stepped forward, her voice smooth and defensive. "He held the Emperor's attention longer than the King of Bohemia did. He spoke with... a certain depth."
[Affection Spike: Mathilde +2 (Total: 42/100)]
Maximilian grunted, surprised. "Philosophical, eh? Well, philosophy won't kill a bandit. Since you're nearly an adult, it's time we stop guessing. We're going to Munich."
Munich—the heart of the Wittelsbach territories and the nearest major city with a sanctified Testing Center.
The trip was short but tense. In the cold stone chambers of the Munich cathedral, Julian placed his hand on the mana-crystal. He expected fire. He expected light.
Instead, the crystal turned a deep, shimmering azure.
"Water," the priest murmured. "Flexible, yet difficult to master. A support affinity."
[System: Water. Figures. You're literally a 'wet blanket.']
Back at the manor, Julian dove into his studies. He ignored the history books—the Luxembourgs and Habsburgs were easy enough to understand—and focused on the mana manuals. He sat in his room, trying to force the energy through his veins.
He felt the flow. It was like a cold stream running from his heart to his fingertips. He could conjure a small sphere of water in his palm, swirling with iridescent light.
'I'm doing it! I'm actually—'
Suddenly, his mind drifted. He remembered the feeling of Mathilde's lap. The way her perfume smelled. The way she had pinched his cheek in the carriage. The cold water in his hand suddenly splashed over his head, drenching him completely.
[System: You are a pervert. Accept it. You can't meditate for five minutes without thinking about your aunt's silk stockings. Your discipline is a joke.]
"Shut up!" Julian sputtered, wiping water from his eyes. "I'm a growing boy!"
The Young Master's Burden
The next morning, Baron Maximilian was in his travel gear.
"I have to head to Munich again," the Baron said, mounting his horse. "Trade negotiations for the spring planting. We need grain, and the Welfs are squeezing the prices. Julian—you're in charge. For the next five days, you are the Lord of Merania."
"Wait, what? A Lord?"
[System: Not a Lord. Just a 'Young Master' playing house. Try not to burn the villages down.]
Julian walked out to the courtyard to meet the garrison. There stood the veterans—Sir Gawan and Sir Berengar, men who had served his father since the Great Sin.
"Lord Julian!" Gawan laughed, a booming sound that shook his rusted breastplate. "Look at you! Standing tall like you didn't cry when I fell off my horse six years ago!"
"I didn't cry," Julian lied. "I... had an eye infection. And I'm the Lord now, Gawan. Show some respect."
"How can we forget your name, Young Master?" Berengar teased, clapping him on the back. "We've been wiping your nose since you were in swaddling clothes!"
"I have mental problems!" Julian shouted comedically. "Traumatic amnesia! Forget the swaddling!"
They laughed, but as Julian walked into the solar to face his first task, the laughter died. On the desk lay the family ledgers.
Julian opened the first book. His eyes scanned the columns.
Debt to the Fugger Banks...
Missing grain shipments...
Militia pay arrears: 4 months...
The numbers began to swim. The sheer weight of the ruin facing his family hit him like a physical blow. The world spun. His knees buckled.
"Oh... oh no..."
As he began to fall, a pair of familiar, strong arms caught him from behind. He was pulled back against a soft, silk-covered chest.
"Again, Julian?" Mathilde's voice whispered in his ear, her breath warm. She was holding him in a perfect Reverse Princess Carry, her strength effortless. "The ledgers aren't even that thick yet."
"I... I hate... my life..." Julian groaned, his face flushing deep red as he looked up at her smirking face.
"Don't worry," she said, carrying him toward the chair. "Your aunt is here. We'll manage the 'Roots' together."
[System Notification: Affection Spike!]
[Lady Mathilde +2 (Total: 44/100)]
[Sarcastic Commentary: You're currently being held like a toddler by the woman who controls your life. Your dignity is officially at absolute ze
ro. But hey, at least you have Water Magic.]
To be continued...