"Something in common..."
Veylin repeated the words as golden bubbles silently rose and burst in his crystal glass.
The celebration continued. The palace's side hall was filled with the laughter of nobles and the mingled scents of perfume and food, but all of it was rapidly receding.
Veylin sank into thought.
Alchemical creatures, the Lord of the Gray Swamp, the old Marquis's sudden death, his elder brother's "accident."
Veylin did not think he had anything in common with the other man.
Hector seemed to notice his distraction and raised his glass.
"Something weighing on your mind, Count?"
"Are you worried about governing such vast lands? The Gray Marsh Fief, the Newly Reclaimed Land, and the distant Southern Isles. That is quite a heavy responsibility."
Several nobles listening nearby exchanged knowing smiles. It sounded like a senior figure showing concern for an up-and-coming junior.
Veylin drained the remaining champagne in his glass.
"Responsibility is an established fact. Worry is a useless emotion," he replied, setting his empty glass on a passing attendant's tray.
Hector's smile widened as he studied Veylin as though admiring a work of art.
"I greatly admire the 'merit point system' you introduced in the Gray Marsh Fief."
He spoke with the tone of someone appraising a famous painting in a gallery.
"Converting a person's worth, contributions, and loyalty into quantifiable numbers. Using numbers to determine status and allocate resources. It discards such hollow things as blood ties and sentiment. Truly... a stroke of genius."
He paused and sipped his red wine.
"Especially when it comes to managing labor, it is nothing short of a masterpiece. It makes those peasants willingly wring out every last drop of their potential, working themselves mad for the elusive promise of 'citizenship.' Far more effective than whips and overseers."
Veylin did not