Only on the day of my coronation had I witnessed such a sumptuous banquet, and it was all the more grotesque in this context, considering that only three people were seated around the table.
Apart from Governor Longinus who ate like a pig, spitting meat and wine everywhere, there was also a man and a woman, both slightly older than me, both blond haired and beautiful in appearance.
He was definitely a nobleman, with shining blue eyes –and incredible as it sounds, I could see a certain resemblance to the governor in his facial features.
She, on the other hand, must have been the court priestess, and she looked around with the expression of someone who wished she were elsewhere.
Finally, standing at the Governor's side was General Ron, with the insignia of the Fifteenth Legion neatly etched into his armor. I had heard of him before, and he looked at me as if he wanted to kill me, which hardly surprised me. General Ron's opinion of Eirinn and his people was why Longinus had wanted him and his legion assigned to his province.
"It is an honor for me to make your acquaintance, Your Excellency."
"I've been told you are the one I should thank for most of these delicacies. You seem to know your stuff about hunting."
"I do what I can. Glad my work is appreciated so much."
"I suppose you've heard of my son Adrian. The best a father could wish for."
Actually, the only thing I had heard about him was that he was completely different from his father in many respects, but seeing them like this it was almost impossible to believe that they were actually father and son.
"This is Lady Sylvie Valera, the Circle's ambassador to my humble abode."
I exchanged a quick glance with both of them, greeting them with proper respect. But if Lady Valera answered with a nod and a small smile, all I got from Adrian was a second sidelong glance, as if he was trying to watch in my soul.
"In your letter you mentioned an important matter that you wanted to talk to me about. I'm at your disposal."
The governor burst out laughing, raising his golden goblet as if to call a toast.
"I am pleased to see that even in this den of reunionist rednecks there are still some who show due respect to the Emperor's representatives. Do you see them, son? These are the people one must surround oneself with in order to govern safely."
The fat man downed his wine and immediately changed his expression, folding his lips into a strange smile.
"Which brings us to the heart of the matter. It is said that for being so young, you are particularly respected in your community."
"I have this luck, if we may put it that way."
"As I am sure you know, until a few years ago the Dundee region was under military administration. But since those Union louses figured out who they're dealing with, many troops have left the borders, and most of the posts have remained vacant. Including Provincial Sheriff."
I find myself forced to admit that the astonishment I manifested on that occasion was completely sincere – I expected a reward or an appointment for some vacant position of little importance, but certainly not something like Provincial Sheriff.
Being Sheriff meant looking down on every other institutional office of the province – while the militia commander had both the mayor and the legion officers above him, a Sheriff had only the Governor as his superior.
I could not believe my luck – I was about to skip at least two or three stages of the path I had in mind for my rise to power.
"You look confused," said the Governor, almost grinning.
"Actually… I admit it, I'm confused."
"West Eirinn is a troubled land. Runaways, spies and enemy agents, and those filthy slaves who occasionally try to escape. It takes someone with the knowledge and strength to keep my forests and borders clean. And if it's a commoner kid who lives among wolves doing it, I say who cares. So? What is your answer?"
Of course, I accepted.
I knew that many would not have taken it well, and I was already anticipating a terrible quarrel with Scalia.
An orphan raised by slaves becomes a maverick in the service of the same Empire that kept them in chains.
But there was no other choice. It was a risk I had to take, and for which I had been preparing for some time.
The stage is set. Let the show begin.
Ever since I was a little girl, I had always loved numbers.
Before being called before the gods, my beloved mother used to tell me that the answer for everything lies in numbers.
It was her father, my grandfather Lawrence, who had built the store that bore our name – but it was she, with her ideas and her sense for business, who brought it to glory, making it the most famous grocery store of the region.
But those days were long gone now.
Since my mother had died, my father had never been the same; perhaps unlike me he hadn't been able to put the tragedy behind him, or perhaps simply that his true nature had finally come out.
I know that's a terrible thing to say about a parent, but I hated him. I hated him with all my might.
However, at the same time, I was afraid of him. Therefore, I respected him, enduring his presence in silence.
The first time he hit me I was only seven years old, hitting my face so hard with a bottle that I had been forced to wear glasses ever since.
There were a few times he could stay more than a few hours away from wine, going back to being the kind and good father I remembered seemed to be back, but they were only brief and rare moments.
I fortunately had the opportunity to escape all the suffering when my mother's sister came to visit us and, sensing the situation, she had offered to take me with her.
But I had refused; I loved the memory of my mother too much, and I could not bear the idea that the shop that she and my grandfather had built with so much effort was going to ruin.
Luckily, before they died, they had bequeathed me many loyal customers, as well as teaching me many tricks of the trade. I had learned the others by myself along the way, gaining respect and reputation among other merchants before even finishing school.
The school.
Even before my mother's death, I had never been a very outgoing person, and I had remained aloof for a long time. I spent a lot of time at school or in the library not because I liked studying, but to avoid going home. I dedicated the little time I had left to the shop and barely kept it afloat with great difficulty.
Then, one day of my gray and lonely life, a child had fallen, and everything had changed.
Even before his sudden maturation and change of attitude, Daemon had always been a force of nature: combative, resourceful, and confident.
He was an orphan who ended up in the hands of a guardian who didn't want him – but although his situation was even worse than mine, he hadn't lost the will to live.
He also loved numbers and math just like me, and the moment I spoke to him for the first time something inside of me clicked.
The older we grew, the more often I found myself thinking of him, and when he walked into my shop proposing that we become partners and jointly run an underground market of luxury goods generated by his hunting business, I stammered like a fool before accepting.
I had fallen in love with him – there was no use hiding it.
The problem was that I lacked the courage to confess my feelings, while at the same time there wasn't a single girl in Dundee who didn't sigh as he passed.
And he was such a gentleman. He never refused to help anyone who asked, sometimes even refusing to be rewarded for his services, and this had done nothing but increase his reputation in the eyes of all.
It had been a shock to see him appear overnight around the village with a Sheriff's star pinned on his coat, and many had accused him of selling out.
But he stoically responded to the accusations. He said open-heartedly and in front of everyone that if he had accepted that position not for personal gain – we would later find out that he was getting less than half of his salary, continuing to hunt in the free time to support himself – but only to be of even more help to the community that had welcomed him and that had so much respect for him.
Not everyone believed him, but that didn't entirely surprise me.
Ever since we were kids, I'd always had the feeling that there was something hypnotic about the way he spoke and looked, like an aura that made people trust him no matter what.
He used words as if they were gold – sparingly and carefully – and he acted with the same intelligence.
Someone in the village whispered that he had all the qualities of a leader. I was certain that he would not spend the rest of his life in a small frontier village. He was destined to do great things.
Unfortunately, my father, the only one who had never liked Daemon, understood it too.
"But what about that boy…" he said one of the very few times he was helping me in the shop. "What's his name? The one with the goofy face."
"You mean Daemon?"
"You two get along very well, don't you? Maybe you should get to know him better, if you know what I mean."
"What are you talking about, father? I thought you didn't like Daemon."
"Just because he used to be a bumpkin living in the woods. Now it's completely different. I mean, where did you ever see a Sheriff of his age?"
It was clear where he was getting at, and I called myself silly for not realizing it right away.
"It is said that he has fallen into good graces with the fat man. Surely, he's going to have a career, and soon all the women in this shitty town will be lining up to get married. But you have an advantage since you already get along with him. You'd be set for life."
"And you too, am I right?"
This time his backhand hit my face without warning, but despite the pain I felt and red cheek this time was different from usual: this time I didn't ask for forgiveness.
"I've told you many times already not to speak to me in that tone, little girl. Remember that I'm doing this for your own good."
"You stopped caring about my well well-being a long time ago, you damn [SP1] drunk. In fact, maybe you never really cared."
The second slap was so hard that my glasses flew off knocking me to the ground, but even that wasn't enough to bend me over.
By now, I had made my decision: I would no longer be afraid of him.
"What are those eyes? Shall I teach you another lesson?"
That morning I certainly hadn't left my office in town with the idea of playing the part of the brave knight in his shining armor.
On the contrary, I was definitely in a bad mood.
The day before they had called the Via Imperiale construction site because poor Malik had gone crazy when those sadistic militiamen had overdone the bind.
I had done everything I could to avoid killing him, but when that walking mountain started charging a passing caravan like a bull in his destructive delirium, he simply had left me no choice.
And of course, it all happened in front of Scalia and another group of other monsters, who arrived just in time to see me receive Captain Oldrick's thanks for saving the lives of a dozen of innocents, including several slaves.
And so today I was really angry, and I was waiting for the right opportunity to throw a fist.
Also, what I hated even more than women beaters were idiots who couldn't recognize and appreciate talent.
And Mary had too much talent to waste on running a small shop in the suburbs at the mercy of a drunkard.
A couple of times I'd considered solving the problem by getting him out of the way, but by law Mary couldn't inherit the business until she was twenty, and I couldn't risk having a fussy bureaucrat poke his nose into the many backroom deals we ran together.
When I passed the shop during my patrol and heard the noises, I immediately understood what was happening, but unlike in the past, this time I had the authority to act.
And I admit that maybe I got carried away a little, also because when I saw that loser standing over Mary ready to kick her, I completely lost control.
First, I pounced on him and threw him on the counter, then grabbed him by the shirt and threw him against the fruit shelf.
"It's easy to pick on little girls, isn't it you bastard? Try me!"
That idiot really tried to fight back, but even though he was almost twice my size, a couple of punches were enough to knock him down.
It was the first time I'd had a serious fight with anyone, and I was happy to see that Scalia's teachings had paid off.
Commander Beek as usual took his time, arriving just in time to see the already tied up drunk thrown into his arms.
"Aggression against an imperial official and resistance, fifteen days in prison!"
It wasn't much, but at least for a while he would be away from Mary and our business.
Beek obviously protested: Doug was one of his most profitable debtors, and he earned more by robbing him at cards than by his salary. But I, the mountaineer who only the month before had been forced to bear in silence the slanders of that illiterate in uniform, was now superior to him, and he could do nothing but obey.
"Are you okay?"
"I… yes, thank you…"
Mary looked at me as if I was her God, but having spent years carefully nurturing our relationship, I wasn't surprised.
Appearing to her as a role model to aspire to and a friend to rely on, I had secured both her unwavering determination to improve and her dedication, and I knew that when the time was right it would not be difficult to persuade her to join me.
For now, however, I had to prioritize other things.
My appointment as Sheriff had displeased many people – but if determination, the right phrases and symbolic gestures like the one I had just made allowed me to preserve my reputation among humans or increasing it I couldn't say the slaves of the ghetto –.
As Faucheur had said, the creation of my empire inevitably involved the emancipation of slaves, who were to become the spearhead with which I could sever the creaking foundations of imperial provincial power.
They would never have followed me if I hadn't presented them with a better future to hope for, and in order to do so, it was necessary for them to trust me.
But how could they trust me if I started killing some of them while shaking hands with their captors?
Damn it all. Why is it always so difficult to get everyone to agree?
I was prepared to face the unexpected, but there was a limit to the situations I could manage at the same time in such a precarious situation – as if that weren't enough, the bureaucrats of the capital also set about complicating things even more.