Thump! Thud!
The heavy sounds of workers dismantling one side of the grand staircase echoed through the castle hallway. The vassals of the Ironwood territory, who were waiting to head up for their scheduled meeting, stood by the construction zone with matching grunts and grumbles.
“His Lordship is building a ramp just so his wife can move up and down easier! Hmph! Why is he pouring his focus into these things when we have such grave issues at hand, like the halted road construction and rapid unemployment?” one of the lords muttered impatiently, waiting for the workers to give the all-clear.
Another vassal sighed, keeping his voice low. “Leave it, my Lord... He is highly mistrustful of us right now, especially given the recent case with the embezzlement.”
“Even so! How can he be more trusting of a LeonCraft than his own people?!” an elderly noblewoman grunted.
But just as quickly as they had started, the group went entirely silent.
Click... clack...
The unmistakable sound of a cane hitting the stone floor reverberated down the corridor. Francesca approached, a vision of grace and composure despite her heavy reliance on the cane, with Stella following closely behind her. Francesca merely gave the stiffening vassals a small, polite nod as she passed them by, heading straight toward her private chambers.
Click. The moment the heavy door shut behind them, Stella let out a frustrated huff. “I cannot believe how boldly shameless they are! How dare they speak behind my Lady's and his Lordship's backs like that!” she complained, helping Francesca settle into the chair at her desk.
“There is no point in arguing with them... it would only bring more trouble anyway,” Francesca sighed. She unclasped her elegant earrings and placed them gently onto the desk. “I swear, once I resolve the immediate household issues I am looking to fix, I am going to laze around and do absolutely nothing!”
“Even so...” Stella was clearly ready to keep venting about the ungrateful vassals, but Francesca cut her off with a purposeful look. “You finished the trial-and-error calculations for every single room in the castle, right? Where is the document?”
“Ah, yes.” Stella nodded quickly, pulling a thick stack of papers from her ledger and handing them over. With an intrigued and puzzled expression, Stella asked, “But my Lady, why did you have us calculate exactly how long the firewood burns, and how long the castle's stone structure retains that heat?”
“Hmm,” Francesca hummed, her eyes already scanning the detailed columns of numbers. Without looking up, she asked, “You know the Julian Coop, right?”
“Of course,” Stella replied instantly. “It's the unique style of chicken coop used throughout the territory.”
“Exactly. I am planning to apply that exact same principle to heat the entire castle to drastically save on fuel costs,” Francesca explained, pointing a finger at a specific line on the document. “The Julian Coop relies on a perfect, pre-measured quantity of firewood, the 'Nestfuel' which sustains a steady temperature for about four hours, right? What if we calculate how long each room in this massive castle retains its heat after a fire goes out, and optimize a burning schedule around it?”
Stella blinked, her mind rushing to keep up with the high level efficiency idea. “But to do that, it would require the servants to refill the fireplaces at precise intervals... wait.” Stella’s eyes widened as the brilliant piece of logic clicked into place. “My Lady... that might actually be possible!”
“Yes,” Francesca replied with a satisfied smile. “Under our new employee structure, every servant has a clearly determined task and a set schedule of working hours. Many of them find themselves with free time after completing their main duties, so it will be incredibly easy to designate specific people to refill the firewood at the exact times needed.”
“We used to burn firewood constantly in almost every room just to keep the castle from freezing,” Stella mused, her eyes lighting up as she caught on. “But if this strategy works...”
“We will cut our annual firewood costs by roughly thirty to forty percent,” Francesca finished smoothly.
I would have loved to introduce the Korean Ondol underfloor heating system here, but renovating the entire castle with flues and a central stone network would be far too costly for us right now, Francesca thought to herself, watching Stella process the massive economic shift with sparkling eyes.
“Oh, that’s right!” Stella suddenly piped up, breaking out of her thoughts. “His Lordship mentioned that he would like to join you for dinner again tonight.”
Francesca nodded, picking up a novel from her desk as she walked over to the bed with her cane, preparing to unwind. “Sure. It’s actually been quite fun dining together so often lately.”
“Well, it is the season for Moringa here in the Ironwood territory,” Stella explained warmly, conveying what Miller had passed along. “He was very eager for you to taste some of our native dishes.”
Francesca waved her hand in a relaxed, understanding gesture, already tuning out as she focused on the opening lines of her book.
“The head chef was also incredibly excited to showcase his traditional recipes for you, my Lady,” Stella continued, her own excitement bubbling over. Francesca let out a soft sigh, not looking up from her pages. “It’s just mountain food, Stella. How unique can it really be?”
Stella merely smirked, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Oh... just you wait and see, my Lady.”
“I heard you crossed paths with my wife before arriving here, Lord Edward?” Miller asked, his eyes glinting with a cold, dangerous light even as a polite smile remained fixed on his face.
Lord Edward swallowed hard, breaking into a cold sweat under the pressure. “It was just in passing, my Lord... We were all present in the hallway together. Isn’t that right, Lady Frederica?”
The elderly noblewoman shot Edward a furious glare for dragging her into the line of fire. She, too, had been right there badmouthing the Viscountess. “I... yes... that is correct, my Lord,” she stammered.
Before either of them could try to excuse themselves, Miller let out a heavy, disappointed sigh. “You know... as the days go by, I find myself having more and more second thoughts regarding the necessity of this council of vassals.”
Sensing an impending threat to their positions, the nobles tensed, about to erupt into a defensive uproar. But Miller didn't give them a single second to start.
Slam! He brought his palm down heavily on the mahogany table, the echoing crash instantly cutting off any noise they were about to make.
“Thanks to my wife’s brilliant contributions, we have saved roughly forty percent of the household budget since last month alone, not to mention recovering a massive fortune embezzled by Aunt Maria,” Miller stated, his crimson eyes gleaming devilishly. The sheer, suffocating pressure of the Empire's celebrated war hero filled the room, wrapping tightly around the throats of the vassals until the entire chamber fell into dead silence.
“And yet, I remember you all insisted that Aunt Maria’s style of management was flawless before she was caught, didn't you?” Miller slowly stood up from his chair, towering over them. “Therefore, I have decided to take your complaints with a grain of salt going forward. You simply haven't given me any reason to maintain my trust in you lately.”
None of the nobles dared to meet his gaze.
“For months now, the only reason you step foot into this castle is to complain about the halted road construction, yet you fail to provide a single viable solution or show any effort to resolve it. You act as though mere whining will pave the roads for you.”
“We... my Lord...” Lady Frederica tried desperately to smooth over the suffocating tension in the room, but Miller was entirely finished listening to them.
“Silence!”
Miller’s voice cut through the air like a blade. He was completely livid; it was clear his personal informants had already reported every single toxic word the vassals had muttered behind his and Francesca’s backs. Leaning forward, he delivered his final, icy verdict. “Vassals who badmouth their masters behind their backs are no better than dogs that have forgotten who feeds them.”