"The donations I make to the church represent a large margin of the taxes. In other words," He continued, his tone as heavy as a mountain. "The amount of gold I give will have to be reduced for the duration of the war."
This was a lot of information to take in, so the silver-haired paused for a moment to register it all. Once she clearly understood the situation, Seraphina's head moved up and down in a small nod.
"By how much?" she asked, anxiously rubbing her pantyhose-covered legs against each other.
His donations represented by no means a small sum; they were nearly enough to sustain the supplicants every month, by themselves.
"From 300 Gold coins per month to 85."
Everyone paused when he announced it.
'Less than a third of what they used to be, coupled with the rising prices of war...'
The golden-eyed girl did not let that thought end. The man in front of her still had things to say, and it would be better to think after knowing everything.
"You have grown a lot, Seraphina. You're no longer the lost little girl who didn't know much, and you're now capable of standing on your own two legs," he said, pausing with an air of solemnity.
"I hope that you can keep this matter to yourself, for everyone's sake."
Ambre did not ask her to forgive him, nor did he come here to negotiate, as there really was no other way around. What he meant by this 'matter' was something more complex.
The Nobles were required to donate at least 100 gold coins per month. if this was not respected, they, as Church members, would have to report it to their higher-ups. Essentially, he was telling her to keep it under wraps; otherwise, he would have to raise the tax rate because of her, making life difficult for everyone.
'It is fine... I will just need to do a few more commissions...' thought Seraphina with her eyes closed, already picturing this tiresome future.
She quickly threw a glance over at Claire before turning back to face her friend's father and saying:
"I understand, I won't tell anyone."
She did not want to cause hardships to others because of her selfishness, especially not to Claire, as it would indirectly affect her through Ambre.
"You're a kind girl, Seraphina," he muttered with a nostalgic smile. "My friend did a good job choosing you."
Outside of Seraphina's view, the purple-eyed girl's expression visibly darkened at her father for suddenly bringing this up.
"Thank you for your words, Mister," she said as her posture relaxed a bit from the compliment. "But was this the only reason behind your visit?"
Now, this serious topic was certainly a sufficient motive; however, this meeting would feel a tad too short if it were only about that.
"You're right, there's something else."
The nobleman answered her by pulling out a [Miniature Box] from his coat pocket and sliding it across the table. Seraphina did not pick it up, but Claire, sitting next to her, did.
"Happy Birthday, Sera!" she cheerfully exclaimed, handing her the box.
The [Miniature Box] was obviously not her gift, but its contents were. Inside were some white and black layers of smooth material appearing to be of high quality, similar to the two Nobles' clothes.
The silver-haired girl put it inside her leather pouch, and with a warm smile, she said:
"Thank you very much for your gifts!"
...
Their discussion had ended shortly after, as there was nothing else worthy of staying to talk about.
Inside the coach carrying them on their way back, Claire and Ambre, Father and Daughter, sat facing one another. The young girl looked at the man in front of her with an accusatory glint in her purple eyes.
"Why did you have to guilt-trip her!? She's almost like your niece!" the purple-haired girl cried out to him.
Her father had just manipulated her friend by exploiting her kindness for people she did not even know; he had even included his own daughter in it.
He had also brought up Seraphina's dead and only parental figure, and to seal the deal, he had given her a gift so she would feel thankful towards him!
No matter the angle one used to look, this was truly a deplorable act.
"And why didn't you tell me anything about this war!? This is something important that I should have known!" Claire continued to complain to him, her tone angry.
The purple-haired man only gazed out of the carriage, observing the passersby's daily lives. The sound of the carriage's wheels clattering over the paved stone streets could be heard by the two inside.
Although it appeared as if Ambre had totally ignored her, he had indeed listened throughout and was only waiting for her to finish before he could answer.
"This isn't something you should be concerned about. It is not your business."
"My friend's matters concern me as much as her! I need to know so I can help her out," she countered him.
Looking at Claire, the nobleman's eyes unfocused as if he was not staring at her, but beyond her. Being bullied by his daughter brought back some memories he had long since forgotten, memories of someone who shared her appearance but blue-themed, just like Claire, when using her magic.
While reminiscing, this family head unconsciously brought his hand to the silver and royal blue necklace hanging from his neck. It had been an accessory worn by his wife, Claire's late mother.
Feeling the cool touch of the silver grasped in his hand, Ambre's gaze refocused, and his resolve hardened once more. He would keep his children safe and crush the Impures, no matter the cost!