The Lion's Share. [Valentin]

[Eitan Angevin]

The Central Bank of Gel’Grandal, Gelerian Imperium
1st of Searing, Year 123 of Steel

Captain Eitan Angevin and his half-sister, Delia Dornkirk—née Angevin—watched the door close behind the functionary of the bank. They were wearing their finest; the Imperials had to be shown that Zaichaer was down but not out. It wouldn't do to show up as paupers or refugees. The Imperial "aide" was already suspicious. But Captain Angevin was here to speak to the Guild of Coin to ensure that they returned to Zaichaer. Trade would be difficult without their presence. And Delia had come to collect her inheritance now that all the solicitors and bankers of Zaichaer were dead and gone; the executorship fell to the Gelerian chapter, and she would invest it all in her husband's airborne islands, the better to leave her daughter and any future children with a safe haven of a home.

The half-elven bastard had long ago ceded any expectation of inheritance. If Admiral Leir Angevin had legally acknowledged him, he had still made it clear that only his legitimate children with his wife would inherit. This no longer bothered him. But Orilla and Regan were dead, their marriages fruitless. It had seemed as though there was all the time in the world, though Air Defense Corps captaincies left little time for motherhood. Just another season to work on a career had turned into dead branches of the family tree. Such was life. It had probably mollified his stepmother somewhat, and he hadn't hurt for funds even before the holocaust.

His home now soared above Karnor, safe from the shadows and the mistborn mutants, and all. If the Order and the Corps could no longer pay him, it wasn't as though things on the Sky Islands cost money. He was content it should go to Delia, then to Amalia and whatever other children Delia had with Stefan. The Angevins and Dornkirks were more tightly bound now than they had ever been, and all their resources were going into the survival and eventual thriving of their home.

What neither of them knew was that at some point, Leir Angevin had sneaked Eitan into the line of succession, so to speak. Orilla and Regan, with their matrilineal marriages, would have inherited quite a bit. The manor would have gone to Orilla, then her children. But instead of everything coming down to Delia, the old curmudgeon had seen to it that she got a tidy sum for herself, but the manor—or what was left of it now—and the bulk of the capital fell to the only remaining child with the Angevin name. Somebody would read the will to them, though. A copy had been kept in the Gelerian bank.

"Do you suppose we ought to look into Sylana's relatives while we are here?" she asked.

"She was always rather secretive from what I gathered from Brynn and Stef," he mused, untucking her hand from the crook of his elbow so she could take a seat. Angevin remained standing for the nonce, giving the room a once-over. When his feet were on terra firma, he was used to literal monsters coming after him. It was difficult to remember how to behave in society again. "I don't suppose we should overstay, but we could certainly look into their roots. If we don't find anything pleasant, we can just forget it ever happened."

The auburn-haired lady smiled wryly.

"Very well."

[Valentin]

"Scheiße." Valentin sighed, almost in resignation.

It was one thing to do these sessions for citizens of Gel'Grandal, be they great or small- that was how you started a dossier, and those files were the true treasure of the Imperial government. It was also, of course, worthwhile to onboard foreign investors, as the ties of commerce and diplomacy were the Imperium's sword as much as any army. It was another thing entirely to be scheduled to meet with fanatics and yokels.

"Indeed." his secretary remarked, voice dry. It wasn't like the man to sympathize with Valentin, but perhaps the bonds of cultural snobbishness could transcend even his seething hatred of his boss. "Still, you've dealt with them before, yes?"

Valentin waved the question away, not bothering to answer. He certainly wouldn't let a moment of mutual disdain lead to any bonds with his coworkers. Besides, the Michaelis boy had been a wholly different matter, an impressive young man in spite of his awkward heritage and passionate in precisely the right ways for the scion of a noble house. He could hardly expect all of his half-kinsmen in Zaichaer to share such a disposition.

"It is a waste of time." he complained, and it wasn't clear at all that he was actually talking to his servant at this point. "I have seen the reports on the situation in Karnor, and it is only going to get worse from here. The barbarians, the worsening state of affairs around the ruins, angry dragons, if you can credit those papers. If the nobles want to run to us for shelter, I say let them come and keep their money. If they want to take it out, we'd be doing them a favor to say no."

"...I do not think the Guild would share this view." There was a rare note of caution in the wiry man's voice, and it shocked Valentin into a moment of silence as he considered what he had just suggested.

"Ah. Yes, well. A personal opinion only, of course. I would not violate Avenna's trust. Forget I said anything."

This, at last, was a directed command, and one the secretary was perfectly willing to obey. "Yes, Herr Valentin."

~~~

Precisely three minutes after the Angevins had been shown into the meeting room, Valentin Valentin appeared.

He'd considered foregoing his usual methods as some sort of show of respect to the Zaicheri customs, but ultimately decided against it. He was a direct representative of the Geleran Imperium, and the Imperium would not moderate itself in its own capitol simply to pander to the sensibilities of yokel fanatics. In any event, from what little the slim file on this Captain contained, he should be better-adjusted than the average citizen of the High City (now laid very low, he supposed).

Anyway, Valentin enjoyed surprising people, and he wasn't about to give up one of the few personal perks of the job.

The lawyer was dressed in the customary attire of the bureaucrat, slim-cut and pressed pants leading up to a tastefully embroidered black coat. As a nod to decorum, he did not teleport in while seated, but remained standing to greet his guests.

"My sincere apologies for the delay," he began, surveying the two as he spoke. Their own fabric was rich; suitable for a ball in the military quarter. What did that betoken? The possibilities made him a bit uneasy. "I was unavoidably detained. I am Valentin, solicitor and accountant for the Imperial government; I understand you are here on matters of finance?"

The man had to be Captain Angevin, who seemed to have enjoyed modest influence in Zaichaer prior to its destruction, and of whom wild tales out of the north now abounded. Valentin was not a man to put much trust in the broadsheets at the best of times, and he certainly couldn't pull much truth out of the risible nonsense they were now publishing.

"Please, do sit down- I understand the routes from Karnor have grown increasingly fraught since the Eclipse. I do hope you are not too fatigued from your travels?"

[Eitan Angevin]

Two sets of eyes turned toward the door as one, but they were gracious enough. They had been raised with an admiration and respect for the Imperium, but balanced with a sense of pride in their homeland and a desire to keep it free from outside interference. The rift had broken them, and the Eclipse made putting the pieces back together more fraught, but they persevered. There was heroism in the quotidien work as well as the dramatic acts.

If Valentin didn't want to shake hands, Angevin wasn't going to make waves. He merely nodded at the greeting.

"Mr. Valentin, I am Captain Angevin and this is my sister, Mrs. Dornkirk." Introductions made in perfect Kathalan, he sat so they could get down to business.

"Mr. Valentin," she chimed in. "A pleasure to meet you."

"We were already dealing with the rift," he agreed, "but when we took to the skies, the Eclipse proved less of a problem. Our ships are well warded," that was said with a hint of pride though he didn't indicate that he was the most powerful warder in Zaichaer—that would be gauche, "and the shadow creatures rarely look up."

"And our Air Defense Corps keeps us quite safe," Mrs. Dornkirk added. "But while our father passed in the initial holocaust, we have been too busy preserving what remains to see to his will. I have a copy of the most recent version, updated after my wedding. But, of course, Zaichaer's central bank was destroyed—"

"And we are meeting with a representative of the Guild of Coin while we are here to encourage them to return."

"Yes, of course, but he also made me aware that should I lose it, there would be a copy with the central banks of Zaichaer and Gel'Grandal. Father was quite thorough."

"In any event," Angevin continued, "we can understand why agents of the Guild would not venture into what went from a war zone to a... well, I suppose one might still consider it a war zone, although the rift has been contained and the Eclipse is no worse in Zaichaer than it is anywhere else from what I gather."

"My mother didn't want to make the journey, however, but now that she has a grandchild, she has become quite vocal about tying up loose ends." She offered an almost conspiratorial smile: parents could be tiresome, even once one was grown. Angevin's face gave no reaction; he didn't opine on his stepmother. She had, at least, been pleased to see his son when he had brought him to meet their grandmother.

[Valentin]

Valentin took his seat after the two Zaichaeri, watching them carefully as they made their introductions and pleasantries. Though he tried to avoid any show of curiosity, he couldn't help but raise a brow as the Captain spoke openly about the flying isle.

"Well, I'm pleased to hear there's been a silver lining to your situation." he said, slowly, "Though I could hardly believe it when die Nachricht arrived, that the officers of Zaichaer had had taken sanctuary in the heavens."

Valentin chose his words advisedly- he was still not convinced that the claims being made weren't exaggerated.

"An impressive feat in a time of chaos, most commendable."

In the next moment, the two hinted at the nature of their requests- the matter of a will, and of the Guild. The will was no surprise, of course. The Guild was, but perhaps shouldn't have been. No matter how impressive their skyships might be, nobody in Zaichaer had any path to long-term power unless and until they could secure a stable line of credit once more.

So, the Zaichaeri needed coin, and to get that, they would need to convince Avenna's faithful that it was worth reinvesting. That the profit exceeded the risks, as it were. That was an interesting scenario, though not one which Valentin Valentin saw any immediate way to exploit. Still, patience was the primary virtue of any investor. If one was open to them, opportunities would always arise in time.

"Mein herzliches Beileid." said Valentin to Lady Dornkirk, bringing his hands together atop the files on the table and interlacing his fingers with one another. "Well, on the matter of the will you will find no trouble, and perhaps some measure of solace. You are direct heirs, and so entitled to request a public or private reading, with copies to be delivered by air to any absent beneficiaries. I do not myself recommend public readings; you would need to pay to rent a space, and seldom is it worthwhile in any sense."

"As for the Guild..."

Valentin paused. It was always a little awkward, with the Guild. The Imperium had little alternative but to rely upon them, as their services were so essential to any serious trade, but it did not like being beholden to an entity over which it had so little control. Valentin had worked and quarreled with the bankers here many times, in ways both subtle and overt. It was uncomfortably unlike the bureaucratic fights within the government, where one could always predict the outcome by observing the interests of the noble parties one step up.

"Yes, I can imagine. Not that I doubt your words, Captain, not at all, but the official reports paint a bleaker picture. Some claim the rift is at best somnolent; others that it is now controlled by puppets of House Briathos. Wild stories abound of mutants, grave-plagued, the Warrens opening beneath the streets- all such manner of thing. Oh, just rumor and phantoms, perhaps, but combined with the movement of the tribes, enough to put even an adventurous investor on edge."

Valentin leaned back, spreading his hands on the table a bit, as though to show that his next words were guileless and earnest. "Of course, the mad chaos of the last year has hit us hard here, but we have weathered it well, thanks in no small part to the tireless work of the Emperor and his Kathar. Still, I am sure every citizen of Gel'Grandal hopes most earnestly for peace and stability to return to our cousins in the northeast."

[Eitan Angevin]

"My husband is a genius," Mrs. Dornkirk said, a matter of fact rather than of pride, although she was, of course, exceedingly proud of her partner in matrimony.

"He is indeed," Captain Angevin echoed, with staunch admiration. Neither of them would argue with Valentin's doubts; the world was full of scarce to be believed truths. Neither of them would shirk the truth, however. Not only genius, but foresight had prepared Science Minister Dornkirk to take the Windworks to the heavens, and then his brother-in-law's entirely intact townhouse, and then more links in the chain of their skyborne archipelago, with the remnants of the Air Defense Corps docked amongst them.

They thanked him as politely for his condolences, but didn't belabor them. They were all still grieving, but processing it through the work of preserving, protecting, and slowly beginning to rebuild. Captain Angevin's lips quirked slightly when they were both named direct heirs, but quickly followed to the more pressing matter of the Guild.

"We have also heard rumors that the pidge mages were part of a cabal that bound the rift, and that they made peace with Zaichaer via the proxy of a general who hasn't returned from the wars. I can assure you that while we fly at a safe distance from the rift, ours is the Zaichaer continually and strategically reclaiming Zaichaer and protecting its citizens. We have mutants, twisted by the Dread Mists. We have not yet been able to secure the entrance to the Warrens as it lies farther from more strategic targets. As for the grave-plagued... we haven't found evidence of necromancy, merely the twisting of the dying into monstrous, mutant form. Well-known dangers from the Warrens have been further corrupted as well. We have learned to adapt."

His tone was entirely civil; he wasn't attempting to berate the man, but supply first-hand account in crisp, military description.

"The shadows that plague the Imperium roam the streets of Zaichaer, as well, but are as easily corralled as the other dangers." He offered a strained smile. "Not to say that any of it is easy. I would offer you or any representative of the Guild my word as an officer and a gentleman that they would be protected should they come to bear witness to Zaichaer and the slow work of rebuilding."

"But if the will is a simpler matter," Mrs. Dornkirk put in, "perhaps we should dispense with that first. My mother, Friederike, is staying with our grandmother, Perpetua, at the Dornkirk's hunting lodge, which has since been garrisoned and fortified, expanded into a satellite of the city to keep refugees safe and put them back to their industry. That is, my father's wife and his mother. Our elder sisters, regrettably, died childless..."

She glanced at her half-brother, who produced death certificates. The government was fragmented, but a ranking member of the Ministry of the Interior had signed off on them.

"The wreckage of Captain Orilla Angevin's ship has been located," Captain Angevin supplied, again with military efficiency. "That of Captain Regan Angevin was located, and her remains have been burned and interred lest the Dread Mists defile her memory."

"After my wedding to Stefan Dornkirk," Delia continued, "my father amended his will." Angevin supplied a copy to compare and contrast with that kept by the Guild of Coin. "I have since become the happy mother of Amalia Dornkirk. To our knowledge, he did not further amend his will when Eitan was married..." She glanced at him again.

"I am married to Lucrece, née Esterházy. At the end of Ash last, we welcomed our son Brenner into the world."

"Oh." Delia was moved, though her response was restrained. In Zaichaer, they were not in the habit of naming children for the first six months or so, lest they be lost to some infant illness or another and the pain be greater. But young Brenner Angevin had proven strong enough to survive that perilous period. Eitan offered her a brief, albeit warm smile.

"In any case, I was baseborn and, while recognized and legitimized, our father made it clear that I was not to inherit."

"Of course," Mrs. Dornkirk continued, "once we have our private reading, mind our jots and tittles, et cetera, I will formalize my will before the Guild of Coin and my brother and nephew will be included therein."

[Valentin]

"I see." replied Valentin, his mind racing. It wasn't unexpected that the remnants of Zaichaer would have factionalized, but that was only going to raise more specters in the Guild's mind. A government with bankrolls would soon displace other forces trying to control the area- which made the bankers a target if any of those other coalitions became desperate. Strong medicine to swallow for an organization which, in sooth, did not stand to gain much immediately from the ravaged land.

The auditor forced such thoughts from his mind as he accepted the death certificates from Captain Angevain, glancing at each with a casual eye. If anything on the documents offended his sense of propriety, he chose to forgo raising it.

"Mmm, copies to be sent to the Dornkirk hunting lodge and otherwise provided only to you, then. The rolls-keeper's office will require consultation for confirmation's sake, but your account is sufficient for my own purposes. The amendments will be accepted so long as the witnesses were proper; doubtful that any of those would come forth to challenge it now, in any event." He supposed that the witnesses, if they still lived, were in Zaichaer still. Or Shemashk. Or Kathiid. Truthfully, the lady Dornkirk could fabricate any will she wanted and it wasn't likely that anyone would ever challenge it; but a key pillar of law lay in pretending that such things did not work.

Valentin Valentin offered Captain Angevain a wan smile. "Well, ser, you may not feature in the will itself, but you are entitled to be present for the reading as legitimate issue nevertheless. I can offer you both a certification to release the instrument to a solicitor of your choice; or, if you'd prefer to be relieved of any further anxiety, I can retrieve it myself and present it to you today."

The lawyer seldom offered such a reading unless there was something in it for him--after all, he'd have access to the records of property within a week anyway, and will reading was boring--but he found himself intrigued despite himself.

"You are to be congratulated, if I may. My own father was an airman on campaign when I was born, and he always said that no ward was so effective at keeping him safe as his desire to return home to new family. I hope it may be so for you." His service was one of the few things he respected his layabout father for, in fact, but Valentin was of the school of thought that it was never helpful to insult one's family in the presence of outsiders.

Perhaps realizing that he'd strayed a bit from the script, Valentin cleared his throat and pressed on more professionally. "How would you care to proceed?"

[Eitan Angevin]

"Thank you," Angevin said, his own smile warm and open. Propriety kept him from beaming proudly. Delia too was smiling now she had a name to put to the face of her beloved infant nephew. Her daughter and his son were in many ways their hopes for the future made flesh. "I daresay I was worried at first that his birth would make me shy from danger, but I think, like your father, it has merely steeled me toward victory."

His nod was approving, and he looked at Valentin in a new light. Of course, he hoped his son would follow in his footsteps, but if he had a mind like his Uncle Stefan, it would behoove him to use his skills elsewhere in service to the State. Angevin understood airmen, but he had grown to respect warriors who fought with their minds, as well.

"If it wouldn't put you out," Mrs. Dornkirk said, "we would rather make the most efficient use of our time in your beautiful capital. If you wouldn't mind retrieving it, we would be much obliged. And you are the only solicitor we know here in Gel'Grandal. Our father's was older than him, and has passed." She spread her gloved hands regretfully.

"Or," Angevin cut in, "direct us to someone of near your caliber to assist us. We have children to get back to." He smiled. But he had to wonder how much of old Leir's fortune was liquid enough to be of use to them now, and how much was tied up in the Imperial stock market, which might be of use to them later. Neither of them were of a mind to pour out the family coffers just to do so, but having capital to spend would allow them to keep the Sky Islands afloat, and maintain the power of the families Dornkirk and Angevin going forward. It was practically socialist at the moment; Angevin hadn't received a paycheck since the rift opened up, but he was still one of the very few Zaichaeri who owned his own home any longer. He paused, wondering if the Bank of Zaichaer had sent copies of the deed to any other outpost of the Guild of Coins.

He really did want to speak to one of them and figure out how they worked. It was entirely possible they were pulling the international strings at Avenna's behest—the divine bitch—and that didn't sit well with him. Perhaps the Hytori had the right of it, working with the Guild where necessary, but otherwise doing it their own way. He was loathe to compliment another race, but he was not so close-minded he couldn't appreciate wit and wisdom where he found it.

"We would prefer to keep working with you," he continued, "but we do not want to strain your goodwill asking to do things that aren't within your bailiwick."

[Valentin]

"Of course." said Valentin, nodding at the lady Dornkirk's logic, "Please remain here for just a few minutes- I will fetch one of the Guild officers to witness and bring the file immediately. There are some drinks in the little cabinet over there, if you grow thirsty while you wait. There's a bottle labeled 'Cintamani' in there which I particularly favor."

The functionary stood, giving the two a nod, and walked out the meeting room door.

As he'd hinted, the Bank was a product of compromise- the famed independence of the Guild of Coins had to be respected, of course, but the Imperium was too significant a trading partner to resist all pressure. As such, Valentin had general permission to access most parts of the building, but unlike the archives situated in the vault below the OIR building, he could not simply wander into the records rooms and begin pulling files.

Thankfully, that did not mean he would be forced back out to the Bank's annex to wait in line with the thronging crowds seeking loans. Instead, he proceeded through the hallways in the back of the complex, the regular staff giving him a wide berth, until he reached a set of familiar offices. It took him only a moment to skim the doors--expensive doors, foreign wood inset with frosted glass--and discern who was around.

Luck was on Valentin's side today. Felix was in his office; and although the man was foreign-born, he was one of the relatively few people in the Bank's supervising offices whom Valentin didn't actively detest. The lawyer rapped politely on the door before trying the knob and opening it.

"Good morning, Felix." An uncharacteristically friendly greeting, even to a man he respected well enough. "I've got a Zaichaeri couple looking for a will downstairs, if you have a minute...?"

~~~

It was close to a half hour later when Valentin returned- in his tow was a smaller man, equally besuited, with a dark complexion and a nervous face. The other man carried a long, thin case, wooden with glossy black lacquer and secured with two metal braces. A strip of parchment was wrapped around the box, stamped with a wax seal. Valentin gestured to the table, and the man set the case down in the middle.

"Captain Angevin, Lady Dornkirk, this is Herr Valcowicz, the Guild observer I mentioned. If there are any who contest the will, either he or myself can provide an affidavit to attest to the truth." It was important to have disinterested witnesses, but the Guild did not entirely trust the Imperium to be disinterested. There had been rumors that the Palace of Spires had compelled false testimony in major disbursements before.

False rumors, of course. Even if they were true, Valentin wasn't stupid enough to believe them.

Valentin sat down in his former seat and pulled the box to him. He produced a penknife from somewhere and carefully cut the seal, pulling the parchment away before snapping open the box with practiced ease. The attorney opened the case and retrieved the will.

"I'll read the contents aloud, then you may have the document." he promised the two, "Just a formality, but I prefer to do everything precisely by law."

If no objections were forthcoming, Valentin opened up the parchment and began to read it aloud.

[Eitan Angevin]

"Of course," quoth one; "thank you," quoth the other. His youngest half-sister had been his only real ally against their elder sisters and parents. His stepmother loathed him because of what he represented. His father was embarrassed that the only son of his loins had been born out of wedlock. Their other sisters had only remembered the tension his existence had brought into their parents' marriage. At least their grandmother, Perpetua, had taken a shine to him, although that hadn't always been easy either.

In any case, Captain Angevin and his sister worked well together.

And when Valentin returned with a Guild representative in tow, they each of them had a conservative tipple scarce touched. Polite smiles greeted the men. Angevin was already standing and he aided Mrs. Dornkirk to her feet to greet the newcomer.

"Sir."

When introductions had been made, they acceded to his protocols, and sat to hear his recitation. It did not match what they had brought with them. Instead, Admiral Leir Angevin had relented somewhat. His will stated the estate should go to his eldest child bearing the name of Angevin. Delia had been given a generous dowry already, and there was more besides for her. Monies were set aside for the maintenance of Perpetua and Friederike, but for whatever reason, they were to be the fiduciary responsibility of the heir—which fell to Eitan Angevin, the legitimized bastard.

They were quiet. He blinked, then asked quietly if he could read it for himself. His eyes scanned the document; indeed, he was explicitly set into the line of executorship and inheritance. With Orella and Regan deceased, he inherited the bulk of it. His dark eyes shone with unmanly tears, but a sharp inhale through his nose and another couple of blinks put things to right.

"Well, that is a surprise. Not unwelcome, of course." He coughed. "This will make things easier, in any case," he directed to his sister, who seemed moved that even if he hadn't been a great father to Eitan, their father's iota of largesse had some emotional impact on the both of them. "Ah, as executor, it would appear I have more business to attend to. After settling any taxes owed, we shall take some funds to Zaichaer for the maintence of our elders and my sister's inheritance will be paid out. Some of the remainder will be reinvested for our future family's endowment. Some brought along to speed in Zaichaer's recovery... Ahem."

"What happens next, gentlemen?" Mrs. Dornkirk asked simply.

[Valentin]

The will began in standard fashion- listing assets, listing beneficiaries and relations, leaving the usual sum of a single aven to family members to whom the beneficiary wished to leave nothing but needed to make clear to later readers that they had not simply forgotten...

Yet it seemed that the good Captain's certainty that he'd been left out of the will was not founded. An oversight, perhaps? Unlikely. Not with a "detail" of such magnitude.

Aside from Captain Angevin's surprising inclusion, the will offered little in the way of surprises. That wasn't unexpected; prior to this meeting, Valentin would have said that the only surprises which ever appeared in wills were the exclusions of persons less well-loved than they believed. This was the lawyer's first time witnessing the converse.

"Well" said Valentin, handing the will over to Eitan for inspection, "As Captain Angevin says, there'll be fiduciary matters to see to. You might consider the organization of a trust for the Mädchen--simpler that way if the worst transpires, and it'll be better for your dues--but there's no explicit requirement."

Valentin gathered his files and tapped them on the table to align them.

"Now, that's really the end of my role, but if you'll indulge me in a moment of speculation..." when he was not interrupted at once, he continued; "It's a sizable sum, and as you say, you'll be wanting it to hand for the maintenance of Zaichaer. Quite right, too- a proper concern for your countrymen in a time of crisis. Now, it's a poor notion to haul such monies across the borders in physical form, I think you'll agree, especially with the increase in banditry on the borders. And tragically, most financial instruments are limited, given the Guild's position in the region..."

Felix's full attention was on Valentin now, and the factor did not look at all happy. He wasn't sure what the OIR man might suggest, but it was sure to place him in an unpleasant position.

"But I wonder, given that the Guild is presently in possession of the liquid estate, perhaps you could prevail upon them to assign you a trustee at your estate for a few seasons? Some junior factor who could write the authorizations for release of funds from the banks in Haqs or so on, and help you set up such funds as fiduciary duty requires." And report back to the Guild with favorable reports to establish credit.

The Guild factor's face was unreadable, but his voice was very calm. "That is an unusual arrangement-"

"Not so unusual." Valentin interrupted, cheerfully, "I recall an observer's appointment to the family at the death of the dowager aunt of Duke Dardouen not two years past, and her estate wasn't so much more complex." This was a fine needle in Valcowicz' side; the observer had nominally been appointed only for the reasons Valentin stated, but both men knew it was because the Guild thought the Palace of Spires intended to seize her estates before the Guild could pick them over for the creditors. "Anyway, it's only a passing notion."