The silence that followed Vienna's question was heavy, thick with the scent of unwashed skin and damp stone. It was broken only by the sound of heavy, polished boots clicking against the tiles.
Lord Zalar appeared from the arched corridor, smoothing the front of his silk doublet, before anyone could go search for him. He was a man who smelled of expensive oils and aged wine, a sickening contrast to the metallic tang of the girls' misery. Behind him, two guards stood with their hands on their hilts, looking at the huddled girls with the same expression one might use for a gutter rat.
"My Lady," Zalar said, his voice quite and tired. He bowed just low enough to be respectful, though his eyes remained cold. "I apologize for the... commotion. These creatures … girls I mean…are inherently volatile. I have been forced to implement certain... austerity measures to ensure order. But I can see they were not suffice…"
"Austerity?" Vienna's voice was a low. She stepped over a puddle of murky water, moving toward him until she was inches from his face. "I sent three shipments of northern wool and linen. I signed off on a weekly stipend that could feed a battalion. Where is it, Lord Zalar?"
Zalar's gaze flickered to the girls, then back to Vienna. He offered a thin, condescending smile. "My Lady, surely you understand. These… species… are... DIFFERENT. Giving them fine things only encourages their delusion that they are honored, which they clearly are not, of course. Allowing them to act insolently is something we clearly do not want at any COST. The funds were diverted to more 'structural' needs of the estate."
"Lord Zalar!" Vienna's voice cracked like a whip across the courtyard. "Do you realize what you are even saying? I am THE REGENT. You want to use my authority to bend the rules and orders to your own will? Are you going against the Queen's orders?"
Zalar did not flinch. Instead, he took a slow, measured step forward, his eyes glinting with a low-born cunning that had served him well since his days as a minor clerk.
"Going against the Queen? Heaven forbid," his tone dripping with mock humility. "I am merely interpreting the spirit of her law, rather than the letter. Let us be honest, My Lady. Your father, the High Lord Vael, would never have stood for such waste."
Vienna felt a cold stone settle in her stomach at the mention of her father. "Do not use his name to shield your theft. My father valued loyalty to the Crown above all else."
The Queen's orders were idealistic, My Lady. Practicality, however, is the language of the Ministry. I was placed in this seat not by the royal decree, but by the explicit recommendation of your father, Lord Vael. He understood that some gardens require... harsher pruning."
He straightened his collar, his smile growing more confident.
"Let us be honest, Miss," Zalar continued, dropping the formal 'My Lady' with calculated disrespect. "I know you are working hard playing the queen. But your father wouldn't want you making a scene over a few street-urchins. He wanted me to assist you because he knew I wouldn't let sentimentality get in the way of the estate's efficiency'."
"Do not use my father's name to shroud your larceny," Vienna hissed. "Lord Vael values order, yes, but he values the Crown's reputation more. You have turned this house into a dungeon."
"A dungeon?" Zalar laughed, a dry, rasping sound. "I have turned it into a controlled environment. I wish you call your father here, because this is his duty to educate you about such these matters that the Regent's duty is to the nobility, not to the charity cases. While he is not here i will take this arduous duty to cultivate you that you are expected to maintain the status quo, not dismantle the work of his closest allies. Do you really want to explain to him why you've insulted a man he spent years grooming for the Ministry?"
"I will explain it to him with great pleasure," Vienna replied, her voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm level. "I will tell him that the man he 'groomed' is a common thief who lacks the intellect to hide his tracks. You think his favor is a shield? You are a parasite, Lord Zalar. You've mistaken a Ministry desk for a throne."
Zalar's face twisted, the mask of the 'sly minister' finally slipping. "You wouldn't dare. Without Vael's support, your Regency is a house of cards. One word from me to the Council about your 'instability' and, "
He leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You are young, My Lady. Lets be honest...The Regency is a heavy crown. Why invite scandal by supporting these... anomalies? Let me handle the 'structural' realities. It's what your father would have wanted."
Vienna looked at him, and realized her mistake. She had put him in charge because she thought the Queen's previous threat to cut out his tongue had cowed him into submission. She thought fear would make him a useful tool. She hadn't realized that for a man like Zalar, fear was just a commodity to be traded.
"You think you are untouchable because you served my father's interests?" Vienna asked, "You think because he gave you a seat at the table, you own the room?"
"Ugh…. Again …!" he said irritatingly and then started, "I think, that the High Council remembers who DID the work while the nobles played at war. I think they will listen to a seasoned minister long before they listen to a girl playing Queen."
"Then you think incorrectly," Vienna snapped. "You speak of my father's trust, but you forget one thing: I am not my father. And I am certainly not a girl you can intimidate with the ghosts of the past."
She turned to the guards, then back to Zalar, her eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp clarity. "The Queen threatened your tongue for your insolence once before. I, however, prefer to take your hands. Not with a blade, but with the law. Every coin you diverted, every 'structural' adjustment you made, it is all documented in the Treasury logs I signed. You didn't just steal from the girls, Zalar. You stole from me. You stole from the queen."
Zalar's face paled slightly as the "sly" confidence began to leak out of his expression.
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