Sophia sighs and groans, taking a really long drink of her coffee. A crown auditor would be extremely helpful right about now. Coming to town with five impericutta guards, a squad of sixteen supporting accountants with a job to do: a badge, five tea bricks for help, and the authority of the Silver Throne to completely cut out cancer from even the toughest of city centers.

  That was the power of the Imperium, of the Silver Throne and the Compact. To leverage the signatures of a united people to petition the Crown for an immune response, and the faith that they would have in the swift justice that would quickly befall them.

  But Sophia Elise the Eighth was not in the Imperium anymore.

  No more Silver Compact, no more auditors or nationally checked power.

  This was the Dominion, wracked with this utter incompetence within its townships and auditing bodies.

  And worse, she was a Princess in disguise, with nothing but this miswired thought cabinet and a politically married husband who looked… well, he was objectively the central ensolian type with that thin frame and wondrous, brooding look. And that husband of her’s continues his thought process. “We could do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

  It’s such a corny line even Sophia needs a second to process it. “What’s the easy way?”

  He shrugs. “We ask.”

  “Ask them?”

  It’s not a plan at all, a theoretical at best and used as a starting point. “We walk in, pretend to be someone we aren’t, and ask for the financials from the guild. You take your usual twenty five minutes to look it over and we’ll see if they’re the ones that are about to hit seasonality. Once that’s done all we need…”

  Ok, that’s pretty much what an auditor is supposed to do.

  Sophia’s curiosity overtakes her sense of grace, and she impatiently interrupts. “What’s the hard way?”

  “Well… we get the documents another way.”

  “What other way?”

  She’s always there, in every step they take and moments they share outside of that summer residence.

  A third wheel in this bicycle of politics, the two move to stare at this Dominion Guardswoman casually leaning on that third chair and sipping on her own, almost insultingly sweetened milk tea. Sunglasses on, short hair held in a clip; and her uniform replaced with an offensively bright patterned vacation shirt covered with that strange, nearly transparent black tank top.

  Mori Fushimi meets the eye contact of her two charges for the day, a mind hyper tuned to the surrounding bustle of Port Azuru brought back into a duty of… something. “What are ya looking at me for?”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Zai returns to level his gaze on Sophia. “The imperium doesn’t have a term for Shadow Mandate, does it?”

  Those two words seem ominous enough, a much darker part of this foreign political scheme unknown to this specific, alien heir. But she still tries to sound educated. “Is that similar to an imperial writ?”

  “No, but they are similar.” Zai coldly narrows his eyes at her, reading her for any feigned ignorance. “I can only describe it as a… more clandestine alternative to the official channels. The term itself refers to the type of order given to an individual or group in service of the crown.”

  Guardsman Fushimi swallows a gulp of her milk tea, lowering those stupid tinted glasses as she leans in closer. She completes that unspoken implication to both Sophia and Zai, a cold but playful smile on her face. “Alright, you said Shadow Mandate? So who we killin’ today? I’d say the mayor, he gives me the creeps.”

  “No one yet.” Zai settles that untargeted threat. “But I believe Mori could retrieve those documents for us from the Guild. Without their permission.”

  That Guardswoman is already raring to go, that smile turning into a grin before her master reels his dog back slightly. Zai calmly speaks to both Sophia and the Guardswoman with that royal grace and calm. “That would be an option I would rather not explore. Given the… collateral damage that could be involved with such a mandated operation.”

  “Well this just sounds like a run of the mill heist, if nobody gets really hurt then nobody will ever find out~” Mori winks. “Plus, your daddy doesn’t have to…”

  The Fourth Princess asks the question in her mind. “You have access to these mandates?”

  Zai and Mori turn, with the Prince answering her. “I do, as any heir apparent of the Palatial Temple does alongside my father. Some of the most trusted members of the high court can also hold the stamps to do so; but those that are holders are the exception rather than the rule.”

  “And they report to your father… or you…?”

  Mori turns to Zai with a grimaced smile, and the Crown Prince of the Tianci Dominion explains the most critical function of that single, geometric word pressed into ink. “That’s the privilege of the Shadow Mandate. They don’t have to report their usage of the stamp.”

  Woah that’s a lot of unchecked power. Sophia’s internal monologue takes the political implication from that, a briefing handed to it by one of the thought processes and read aloud to her. Even when mother uses the Silver Hand for something clandestine the Executor Council has to get the reports. Nobody’s above a check and balance in the Silver Imperium…

  “Then would I have access to this then?” Sophia innocently asks. “I am your wife after all?”

  Both Zai and Mori stare at each other, those eyes locking with an unspoken conversation between Guarded and Guardian.

  Because as a Lady-Consort of the Dominion, this Fourth Princess of the Imperium would in theory have the stamp to call a Shadow Mandate.

  If she gets access to the Apparatus… Zai begins to ventilate. She could play the shadow politico. Make whoever she wants disappear, make the adjustments to the narratives… she could take over the Dominion without me or father even knowing.

  While Mori is much more pragmatic in her political analysis of Sophia Elise. This Fourth Princess will shake up this nation in a donut fueled rot quest. How wondrous…

  But the fact remains that she is the wild card.

  The power to do but the cultural expectation to not, with this outsider to this meticulous system of power capable of unknowingly stumbling into one of the most powerful tools of the Dominion’s internal arsenal.

  So Prince Zai Tianci doesn’t answer her question, instead leaving those words for the simple point. “Easy way. Let’s ask them for the financials before anything else.”