Gavin Shea and Gu Jin—one held great rank and power, the other, even more so. Between the two, every glance and smile in court required measured restraint.
Though Swiftwind Couriers had come into being through their strong, silent support, neither of them could afford to show the slightest sign of involvement.
Paul Denton, however, was under no such restraint.
He fancied himself the very first to know of Lena Sanders' plan to open a courier business. That towering pole before Swiftwind Couriers' door—his suggestion. He had even overseen the Ministry of Works craftsmen through the night as they forged and raised it.
In his mind, his connection to Swiftwind Couriers was not only unusual but sacred—an obligation he bore with pride.
The day the shop opened, Paul Denton dashed off more than a dozen letters at once and sent them through the new courier. Then, from the Ministry of Works up to Minister Xue himself, down to the lowest clerks and gatekeepers, he made the rounds, saying to every man and woman he met:
"A new courier, Swiftwind Couriers, just opened! Fair prices, lightning-fast delivery! Where's your hometown—north, is it? Then surely you've kin or friends in those four prefectures! Write them! Write several! Only two hundred coppers a letter—cheap as dirt!"
Once he'd canvassed the Ministry of Works, he swaggered into the Ministry of War and repeated the whole performance, from the Grand Secretary to the old porter at the gate.
By sundown, Paul Denton had visited nearly every government office in the Imperial City—save for the Secretariat and the Chancellery, which even he dared not disturb.
The capital's officials were sharp and discerning.
Only months ago, petitions had been submitted to allow officials to send personal letters through the imperial postal relays during the New Year—petitions that several senior ministers had approved, but which had been personally rejected by the Prince Heir.
For such a trivial matter to be endorsed by the ministers yet overruled by the Prince Heir was unprecedented. His Highness was known for his generosity, never one to quibble over such petty costs or privileges.
When later memorials of grievance were presented, begging permission again, they too were curtly dismissed.
And now—suddenly—Swiftwind Couriers appeared.
A courier service, was it not merely another form of postal relay? And postal relays were military jurisdiction! Yet someone had opened one brazenly on the very edge of the Imperial City itself.
Beneath the calm surface of Castleton's government, a restless current began to stir—born of the military implications behind Swiftwind Couriers and Paul Denton's tireless, boisterous promotion.
Every office buzzed with quiet speculation about the mysterious depths behind the new enterprise and, more loudly, with open debate over the flyer that had flooded the city.
Nearly everyone had done the math: two hundred coppers per letter—how could that possibly turn a profit? And a letter from Castleton to Huaiyang Prefecture arriving the very next day? That was as swift as the imperial express relay, which required formal approval from several senior ministers!
And to Wuwei Prefecture, fifteen hundred li away, in just five days—for a mere five hundred coppers!
How many miles must be covered each day? How many men and horses maintained? How much would all that cost?
How much did they lose per letter?
While the air crackled with calculations and conjecture, the ministries—save for the Ministry of War and the Privy Council—craned their necks, waiting to see how those two would respond.
After all, Swiftwind Couriers was dealing in the postal trade itself—plain as day.
Beneath the curiosity and gossip lay a touch of unease… and no small measure of anticipation. Would this affair stir up trouble?
Minister Tan of the Ministry of War was already seething.
The postal relays were under the joint purview of his ministry and the Privy Council. The Council's duty, however, was merely to supervise and issue regulations, ensuring the Ministry's administration remained proper.
And now—this Swiftwind Couriers—was clearly operating a postal service. If any issue arose, responsibility would fall squarely on the Ministry of War. The Privy Council would not only be blameless but might even memorialize against them for negligence.
Moreover, Pan Qi himself had spoken to him directly—there was no pretending ignorance now.
But how to manage it?
A courier service that could command the full enthusiasm of Pan Qi, the Seventh Young Master of the Chancellor's household—surely such zeal did not come without backing.
And yet, Tan had been so absorbed in overseeing the army's redeployments, the Prince Heir's reforms of the grain stores, and the reshuffling of high officials across the ministries that he had learned nothing of this Swiftwind Couriers until now!
To start asking questions at this point would only expose his lapse. The shop had already opened, and for him still to know nothing—such dereliction could easily be construed as incompetence, even grounds for dismissal.
After a moment's pounding headache, Minister Tan decided to seek out Chief Councillor Pang of the Privy Council directly—to ask, plainly, what should be done.
Postal matters were traditionally under the Council's regulation, the Ministry's execution. Yet Swiftwind Couriers was wholly without precedent—no statute or code offered the slightest guidance on how to handle a private enterprise entering the postal trade.
Uncharted waters demanded that the Privy Council set the course first.
Resolute, Minister Tan left the Ministry and went straight to the Council.
When Pang heard the situation summarized in a few terse sentences, he chuckled. "The Prince Heir summoned me early this morning," he said. "Said you'd probably be here before long.
The matter of Swiftwind Couriers—His Highness knows. The Grand Duke knows. And His Highness said it was the Grand Duke's idea.
First, to give officials and scholars a proper channel for their letters. Second, you know as well as I do—our postal relays are a burden in peace and a hindrance in crisis. In quiet times they breed idlers; when urgency strikes, they falter.
The Grand Duke has long wished to see whether another method might do better.
So, His Highness said, this is but a trial. No public fanfare. You and I are simply to observe—do nothing, say nothing, and let it run its course."
Minister Tan exhaled deeply. "If it is the Grand Duke's will, then we can well afford to bear this responsibility. But tell me, Councillor Pang—how exactly do you intend to 'observe'?" he asked, leaning forward, lowering his voice.
Pang grinned. "Those riders and grooms at Swiftwind Couriers were all handpicked by Lord Wen Si himself. What need have we to observe further?
By the way, do you have any letters to send to those four prefectures? If so, you'd better write a few—they're remarkably cheap."
"Cheap indeed! To Wuwei Prefecture in just five days—that's express speed! And for five hundred coppers? Practically a gift!" Tan laughed, rising. "Each year we calculate the cost of the express relay—even the wooden-sign courier costs sixteen taels of silver per hundred li!
At Swiftwind Couriers' rates, they're losing silver with every letter. I'd best send a few myself while the bargain lasts—it won't be long before the price rises, or the shop folds entirely."
Pang smiled, walking him to the door. "Judging from His Highness's confidence, it seems this business is meant to endure. I, for one, hope it does. To reach Huaiyang in a day, Wuwei in five—that's true convenience."
――――――――――――
On the very day Swiftwind Couriers opened, Marquis Shen of Yongping returned home from court, where his steward brought the news.
The Marquis frowned and turned to his son, Shen Mingshu. "What does he mean by this? Does he plan to play postmaster for a beggar's reward of a hundred thousand taels a year?"
"Please look at this," Shen Mingshu said, offering the printed notice from Swiftwind Couriers.
The Marquis scanned it quickly, his frown deepening. "Five days to Wuwei for five hundred coppers—nonsense! What is his purpose?"
"Shall I speak with Second Master? Have him inquire?" his son suggested.
"No need," said the Marquis after a pause. "It's a trifling affair. Not worth troubling him. Let us watch first."
"I agree," Shen Mingshu smiled. "A small matter like the postal relays—hardly worth mention."
――――――――――――
Lena Sanders rode through the night back to Castleton. When she dismounted before her shop, dawn had not yet broken, yet the place blazed with lamplight.
Leading her horse inside, she found her two accountants—red-eyed and haggard—spring to their feet as if salvation had arrived.
"The head manager's back!"
Lena's eyes swept over the scene: four great cabinets crammed full, heaps of cloth mailbags strewn across the floor, and stacks of letters piled high on the long counter. She bit her tongue to keep from blurting out, So many?
She had expected a trickle of customers at most—two or three, perhaps. But this? Had Castleton's officials and scholars been holding back their homesickness so tightly that it burst all at once?
"Manager, it's far too many!" one accountant cried. "After you left yesterday, the letters started coming in—and by noon, heavens, the line stretched around the corner!
Old Zhang and I haven't lifted our heads since midday—sorting, weighing, recording—all the way till nightfall! Even after closing, we worked through the night, and still there's half left. What are we to do?"
Tears welled in the old man's eyes.
"What time is it?" Lena asked, glancing at the water clock in the corner.
An hour and a half remained before the couriers were to depart.
"You—go at once to the Prince Heir's mansion," she said sharply to Old Zhang. "Use the west gate. Find Ruby, the Prince Heir's attendant. Tell him I beg the loan of five or six clever, nimble lads to help for half a day—urgent business. As fast as possible."
"Yes, yes!" Old Zhang stammered, wide-eyed, and darted off at once.
Ruby arrived in astonishing speed with seven or eight attendants in tow—so efficient that for the first time, Lena felt a pang of envy toward Gavin Shea, surrounded as he was by capable hands in endless supply.
She gave Ruby crisp instructions on how to sort and pack the letters.
With sufficient manpower, even the already-tied bundles were reopened for re-sorting. Each boy stood before a heap of letters, dividing them into four piles for the prefectures, then by county, then by city and countryside. Each was logged, sealed, waxed, and tied.
In less than half an hour, everything was neatly arranged—letters stacked by prefecture and ready for dispatch.
"My thanks to you—and to the Prince Heir," Lena said, exhaling in relief.
Ruby bowed. "His Highness rose early for court, as always. When your message came, he was at his toilette. Upon hearing you needed help, he ordered me to bring men at once. He also instructed that I remain here today to follow your direction."
"Two or three will suffice," Lena said after a pause, smiling faintly. "More would only be in the way."
She had no idea how many letters might come in today. If the flood continued, her two old accountants—both near sixty and sleepless all night—would never manage alone. Someone had to oversee them.
"Then these four shall stay," Ruby replied easily. "If you need more, send word and I'll bring them." With that, he bowed and withdrew.
Moments before the riders arrived, a middle-aged steward entered, bowed deeply, and introduced himself as the Prince Heir's external manager, sent to assist at His Highness's command.
Lena issued her instructions swiftly, ate a few hurried mouthfuls, and set out again with the couriers toward Huaiyang Prefecture.
Among the newly sorted letters, those bound for Chenzhou were the most numerous—an overwhelming difference from the mere seven of the day before. She had to go herself; in Huaiyang, only old Madam Nie held the post, with one novice in each county beyond. This sudden flood would crush them without guidance.
They reached Huaiyang half an hour earlier than on the previous day.
Madam Nie had been waiting again, and when the pounding of hooves reached her ears, she rushed out—only to gape at the riders behind Lena, and the packhorse laden high with mailbags.
"All that—letters?" she gasped. "How many can there be?"
"Old Hong!" Lena called, ignoring the stunned woman. The groom and riders began unloading the bulging bags.
Lena seated herself on the bench by the shop door, watching as the couriers clumsily handed over the three or four sacks meant for Huaiyang City.
Madam Nie first gave them the seven receipts from yesterday, then anxiously counted the new letters twice before sealing the exchange. Once the riders had drunk their tea and left, she stood staring at the heaps of mail, fretting aloud.
Yesterday she'd had only seven letters. Never had she imagined hundreds! The three or four bags might not seem large, but together they weighed over thirty catties—far too heavy to carry into the city by hand.
"Master Li," she ventured, smiling nervously, "what do you suggest?"
Lena shook her head. "Find your own way. This is our first venture, and there'll be countless troubles ahead. Today's challenge won't be the last—you must learn to manage them yourself."
"Yes, ma'am," Madam Nie said through gritted teeth. She looked around, then hurried off toward a blacksmith's shop several doors down. Before long, she returned pushing a half-old wheelbarrow, piled the mailbags on it, and set off toward Huaiyang City with brisk determination.
That single load held three hundred sixty-four letters. At five coppers each, ten letters made fifty coins, a hundred letters five hundred, two hundred a full string—one and a half strings in total for the day!
Breathless with excitement, Madam Nie nearly ran, her mind already clear and calculating.
Three hundred sixty-four letters—all must be delivered by nightfall tomorrow, with receipts gathered and tallied. She could never manage alone.
Her daughter-in-law? No—one nursing a baby and tending a sick child could not leave the house.
Her son, then. She would call him back from his laboring job. Lose half a month's wages, perhaps—three or four hundred coppers.
A small price to pay for the fortune just beginning to bloom.