Maria von Hafenstadt PoV

  Within the imposing walls of Hafenstadt lay a district reserved exclusively for the nobility, a secluded neighborhood of grandeur and opulence where the city's elite resided in their mansions. Each noble family possessed their own castles or fortresses scattered across the empire, symbols of their power and influence. Yet, they often returned to the bustling metropolis when affairs of state called or when they sought to engage in the intricate dance of politics and negotiation with their peers.

  Maria von Hafenstadt was no exception to this tradition. As a member of the city's founding family, she owned expansive lands to the north, verdant estates that stretched as far as the eye could see. However, it had been years since she last set foot upon her ancestral grounds. The city's allure held her captive, for it was within these walls that the actual game of power unfolded.

  Perched atop the highest hill within Hafenstadt were two magnificent mansions, standing as silent sentinels over the city below. One belonged to the Governor, a testament to official authority and governance. The other was Maria's abode, a mirror image of grandeur and elegance. Both residences boasted three splendid stories, their facades gleaming in pristine white marble that caught the first light of dawn and the last glow of dusk. Intricate sculptures adorned their exteriors, marble figures of heroes and mythical creatures entwined with stone vines. Lush gardens surrounded them, a tapestry of fragrant blossoms and manicured hedges.

  Yet, the beauty of her mansion was not the reason Maria chose to remain within the city. The actual reason, more straightforward than one might expect, was her uncle, Lucas von Hafenstadt, the current Governor.

  Lucas had ascended to the governorship solely by virtue of his gender. Maria's father, the rightful heir and a man of wisdom and valor, had perished in the war, leaving the seat vacant. The laws of succession in Hafenstadt were unyielding: leadership could not pass to a woman, regardless of merit or capability. It was an edict Maria considered both unjust and foolish, yet it was the unassailable reality of her world.

  From a young age, Maria watched as the city she loved began to crumble under her uncle's negligent rule. Lucas was a man of excesses, a reveler who basked in his own charm and handsome features. The grand halls of the Governor's mansion were perpetually filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets as he indulged in endless festivities. He surrounded himself with admirers and sycophants, reveling in the attention and the trappings of his position, while the proper responsibilities of leadership were all but forgotten.

  However, Maria wasn’t innocent. She understood that direct confrontation would yield little in a society that dismissed her solely based on her gender. Instead of openly opposing her uncle, she chose a path of subtlety and cunning. Lucas, despite his age, was remarkably easy to influence. By gently steering his interests, whispering suggestions here, arranging advantageous encounters there, she found that she could guide his decisions without him ever realizing he was being led.

  Thus, Maria began to weave her web of influence throughout Hafenstadt. She moved through the echelons of power with calculated grace, forging alliances with merchants, diplomats, and even members of the city's clandestine circles. Her intelligence and insight earned her a quiet respect among those who recognized the true architect behind many of the city's recent successes.

  Day by day, night after night, Maria worked tirelessly to extend her reach. Yet, despite her undeniable impact, Maria remained a shadow behind the throne, a governor in all but name.

  Lucas relished the grand events and public appearances, thriving in the warmth of admiration and the comfort of the spotlight. He basked in the adoration of the masses, a role that suited his vanity and thirst for praise. Meanwhile, Maria toiled behind the scenes, orchestrating the workings of governance, duties both lawful and otherwise.

  In the highest chamber of the smaller mansion, Maria sat at the head of an imposing oak table, occupying the seat that should have belonged to Lucas. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating intricate tapestries that adorned the walls, depicting the history of Hafenstadt. Yet, as was often the case, Lucas was conspicuously absent, leaving the burdens of leadership squarely upon her shoulders.

  "Where is he?" The commerce minister demanded, his brows knitted in frustration.

  "We observed him visiting one of the baronesses," a guard replied, standing stiffly at attention near the doorway.

  "Maria, we must act," the minister implored, turning his weary eyes toward her. "If he continues his flirtations with the Baroness of Frosthell... only the gods know what might transpire."

  Maria sighed softly, her fingers tracing the ornate patterns carved into the armrest of her chair. "I will do what I can," she assured him. "But perhaps it's best to inform someone from House Frosthell, persuading them to recall her from the city. Though he may profess undying love, the moment she departs, he won’t follow."

  The minister nodded thoughtfully, stroking his long, white beard. "I shall attempt to handle it. The challenge lies in doing so without causing greater strife. The northern territories are already discontent with us. Should this affair escalate, the Emperor might intervene to mediate."

  "Rest assured, it won't come to that," Maria replied firmly, attempting to ease his concerns.

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  The minister sank back into his seat, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

  "How are our sales progressing?" Maria inquired, her eyes shifting to the figure seated opposite the minister.

  The Manager sat there, a man whose attire was deliberately unremarkable. Unlike the others, he bore no insignia of Hafenstadt, no emblem that might tie him to the noble house. It was imperative that he remain anonymous; any association with him could tarnish their reputations.

  "My lady," he began cautiously, his voice low but clear, "since the downfall of the Cutpurses, we've been unable to move our merchandise. The goods are stranded at the docks. We cannot proceed without paying off certain parties, but given the rarity of the items, the City Guard Leadership are now involved."

  Maria's expression tightened. "They would never allow contraband through, not even for a bribe," she mused, tapping her fingertips lightly against the table. Frustration edged into her voice. "Damn it! That bard had to disrupt our operation. We need those funds. Lucas continues to squander our budget, and without this income, the city's finances won't balance."

  The Minister, who seemed out of place in the new topic, still raised his hand. “Couldn't we hire the bard to move the merchandise?”

  Maria let out an exasperated sigh. Her cool gaze settled on the minister. "He can't even control his own territory," she retorted. "Imagine entrusting him with moving our merchandise."

  The minister persisted gently. "I've heard that he's formed a mercenary company. Perhaps he's capable of handling such tasks."

  Her interest piqued slightly, Maria arched a finely shaped brow. "How many members does he have?"

  "Five individuals have been officially registered," the minister replied.

  Maria took a measured sip from her crystal goblet, the deep red wine reflecting the light like liquid rubies. She considered this for a moment before shaking her head. "Absolutely not. He doesn't have nearly enough people."

  "That may be," the minister conceded, "but his renown is growing by the day. It could be advantageous to bring him to our side."

  "Why?" Maria's tone was edged with skepticism. "He's just another petty thief from the Lower Quarter."

  "Perhaps," the minister agreed, "but he's instigating changes. Initially, his fame was solely due to his skill with the fiddle."

  Across the table, the manager sat with a look of indifference. He appeared thoroughly uninterested in the exchange.

  Maria cast a dismissive glance at the manager before returning her attention to the minister. "If it's merely his fiddle playing, let Lucas concern himself with that," she said dryly.

  "Yes, but there's more," the minister pressed on. "He's expanded a tavern in the Lower Quarter, introduced a new beverage, and now established a mercenary company. Even the nobles haven't launched so many ventures in such a short span. He's ambitious and resourceful."

  She frowned slightly, the lines of concern briefly marring her otherwise serene expression. Maria had countless issues demanding her attention; the last thing she needed was another variable to manage. "We'll see," she conceded at last. "He's already been invited to the Autumn Ball."

  The minister nodded, recognizing that the discussion was drawing to a close. "Very well," he said softly.

  Maria straightened in her chair, her gaze sweeping over the assembled figures. "If there are no other matters to discuss, I suggest we adjourn."

  With no further topics raised, the minister and the manager rose from their seats. As they prepared to leave the chamber, Maria's voice cut through the silence one final time. "Wait."

  Both men paused, turning back to face her. "Yes, my lady?" the minister inquired.

  "What is the name of this new beverage he's introduced?"

  The minister blinked in surprise. "Pardon?"

  "The bard," Maria clarified, her eyes keen. "What does he call this drink of his?"

  "They're calling it 'beer,'" the minister replied thoughtfully. "I've never encountered anything like it before."

  The heavy doors closed behind the departing figures with a resonant thud. "Beer," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "What are the chances?"

  A soft rustling echoed from the shadows. "Chances of what?" came a sibilant voice.

  From the dim corners of the room, a translucent serpent emerged. It slithered gracefully across the polished marble floor. With a fluid motion, the snake ascended the leg of the ornate table, coiling itself atop the rich mahogany surface where maps and documents lay scattered.

  Maria gazed thoughtfully at her enigmatic companion. "The chances that he is a player," she replied, her eyes narrowing shrewdly.

  The serpent tilted its head. "All because of the name of his beverage?" it inquired, tongue flickering.

  "Beer would have been invented eventually," Maria mused, drumming her slender fingers rhythmically against the table's edge. "It's merely the fermentation of wheat and barley. But to use the same name... it's far too conspicuous."

  "Too conspicuous?" the snake echoed, the faint hint of a hiss underlying its words. "Could it be a trap?"

  "Perhaps," Maria conceded, her gaze distant as she pondered the implications. "Or maybe he is confident that even if someone uncovers his secret, they won't dare to confront him, or he'll be capable of defending himself."

  "Or perhaps he underestimates the resourcefulness of others," the serpent suggested, its body undulating slowly as it settled more comfortably.

  A sly smile curved Maria's lips, a glint of mischief shining in her emerald eyes. "Regardless of his intentions... we need to test him."

  With deliberate grace, she reached for one of the delicate silver bells arranged neatly on her desk. The bell chimed softly as she rang it, but the sound carried an otherworldly resonance. Within moments, the heavy door swung open, and one of her guards entered the room. Clad in armor adorned with the insignia of House Hafenstadt, he bowed respectfully.

  "At your service, my lady," he said formally.

  Maria didn't waste a moment. Rising from her chair, she passed him a sealed letter bearing her personal crest. "Deliver this to the Mercenaries' Guild," she commanded, her tone crisp and authoritative. "Inform them that it comes directly from me. I desire their latest company to undergo a special test. Send them into the southern forest."

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