The rise of the steam industry was bound to bring a host of problems, and the relationship between humanity and nature is an eternal, unchanging topic. This world held both burgeoning steam-powered cities and lush, verdant forests. Change was still possible, but few could see the necessity.
Looking up at the sky, the dual-colored moonlight was faintly visible behind the overcast clouds. The disaster, already revealing its finer details, was inextricably linked to the rise of steam power, yet it was impossible for industry to simply grind to a halt. The relationship between human civilization and nature was profoundly complex, and the predicant facing Nolan City was rely the tip of the iceberg.
Jenkins could dredge up from the corners of his mory the entire developnt process of a purely mortal civilization, yet he still couldn't find a solution to this problem.
On Tuesday morning, the scene shifts to the distant city of Ruen. Two Antwerp pigeons, the very ones Jenkins had saved, perched atop the head of a statue before the royal palace. They watched with curiosity as Julia hurried past, disappearing through the grand entrance.
"Your Highness! Your Highness!"
It was rare for Julia to raise her voice like that. She threw open the bedroom door, checked the washroom, searched the study, and finally flung open the large wardrobe. She ultimately found Dolores in a small garden on the east side of the palace complex. Every Stuart child had their own designated spot there, but the third princess was the only one who ever truly made use of the little space.
She was currently holding a small trowel, squatting in the snow to loosen the soil around the plant she was tending—Mr. Williams's precious flower, of course.
Alexia had originally been the one to care for the Fantasy Flower. When she left the city a few weeks ago, she had entrusted it to Miss Stuart. Although Alexia was back now, she hadn't shown any intention of taking the plant back, and Dolores was more than happy to continue looking after it.
"There are results from the interrogation."
Julia leaned in and whispered in the princess's ear.
Dolores nodded. She reached out to gently touch one of the flower's leaves before standing up, satisfied.
"So they finally talked?" Dolores murmured. "We can discuss that later. The family talk is about to begin."
She handed the trowel to a nearby servant and started toward the other side of the garden.
King Salsi II was typically swamped with official duties, but he always made ti to converse with his children in what he called a "family talk." He was a competent king, and a competent king naturally had to cultivate competent successors.
At present, Salsi II showed no particular preference for any one prince or princess, so all mbers of the royal family were expected to attend these talks, unless they were away from Ruen.
Dolores had many siblings; she was neither the oldest nor the youngest, and her presence was easily overlooked. During these family talks, Salsi II never paid her much attention. Aside from a pair of eyes that were the spitting image of her grandmother's, she had never left much of an impression.
Today was no different from any other. The king, having carved out ti from his official duties, "received" his children in the garden gazebo. Dressed in magnificent attire, the siblings either held teacups or perused docunts. Only Salsi II was permitted to sit at the table within the gazebo.
Compared to her siblings' beautiful mink scarves, woolen coats, and lace-embroidered dresses, Dolores's attire was plain and unremarkable, especially since she had just been digging in the dirt. Fortunately, aside from a few particularly observant individuals, no one paid her much mind. After all, not everyone was clever enough to notice anything unusual about her.
On the whole, her relationship with her blood relatives was not a close one. This family was a far cry from the Williamses. Royal families, she supposed, were all like that.
Julia was not permitted to join such an occasion. Dolores, upon approaching, simply greeted her father as the others had done, took a cup of hot tea from an attendant servant, and then found a spot to stand a little ways off.
By custom, she would neither speak unless spoken to, nor would she be asked any questions. In truth, she didn't need to pay the conversation any mind at all.
I get to see Mr. Williams again tonight, she thought. I hope Tutor Alexia will be a little more rciful. Those math problems are so difficult.
This was what truly occupied her thoughts at the mont.
She had finished reading 'The Snow Queen' the day before yesterday, and now she was bursting with impatience to share her thoughts with Mr. Williams.
But today, Dolores's plans were completely upended. Perhaps finding the photograph of his great-grandfather after the year-end festival had left a deep impression on His Majesty, or perhaps it was rely a whim. In any case, the king usually began these talks by questioning his sons who were already involved in state affairs. This ti, however, he took the initiative to speak directly to Dolores, who was clearly lost in thought.
"Dolores, what have you been up to lately?"
"Hm? Oh, yes, Father."
She was lost for a mont but recovered instantly. Handing her teacup to a servant, she straightened her dress and walked to the front as her siblings instinctively parted to make way for her.
Today, His Majesty King Salsi II was dressed in simple, informal attire bearing the royal insignia. His jacket was predominantly red, accented with gold trim and tassels that gave him an air of imnse nobility. Lace cuffs peeked out from his sleeves—a popular fashion at the ti, and a style Jenkins absolutely loathed.
"Father, I have been continuing my studies diligently. My dancing lessons are progressing swiftly, though I have encountered so difficulty in mathematics. Mrs. Hester, my literature tutor, believes I have a great deal of talent, and I am currently reading the works of the poet Petri. As for my etiquette lessons, I believe I have long been a perfectly qualified royal lady."
These were surely dull topics for a king, yet he listened intently, even offering his own opinion on the aforentioned poet. Once the subject of her daily life was exhausted, the conversation naturally shifted to more sensitive matters.
"Do you enjoy reading the papers, Dolores?"
"Yes, Father. I have the servants bring the latest Kingdom Morning Post every morning. I prefer The Ruen Tis and The Estella River Gazette to the Allen Daily, but I must admit, it's sotis fun to read the gossip columns in Mad Words."
In truth, her interest extended beyond dostic papers to the news from neighboring kingdoms. But there was no need to ntion that. She didn't want her father to know she had the ans to acquire foreign newspapers on the very day of their publication.
"Reading the papers is a good habit, one I've kept since I was a young man. While more than half of what's written can't be trusted, an attentive person can always find sothing interesting in the part that can. Did you all hear that?"
His Majesty's final question was directed at everyone, and the Stuarts imdiately murmured their assent, regardless of whether they had actually been listening.
Standing closest to Dolores was her eldest brother, Sarrot Stuart, the strongest contender for the throne. Although the Stuart dynasty did not practice primogeniture, Sarrot's abilities were considered exceptional in every respect—were it not for Dolores Stuart.
He understood his younger sister very well. She never seed to deliberately vie for anything, yet the strength and influence she commanded were greater than those of anyone who did.
He knew of the sches plotted by his other, more foolish brothers and had guessed the truth behind a certain person's disappearance during the winter hunt, but he had no intention of doing anything about it.
Watching the silhouettes of Dolores and their father in conversation, his throat tightened. Sixteen. The most beautiful age of a woman's life. What Jenkins had been able to perceive, others could perceive as well.
Sarrot Stuart possessed all the typical aristocratic traits. He was arrogant and aloof, carried himself with an air of imnse importance, and knew exactly what he wanted. But he had also inherited the filthier traditions of the nobility.
Dolores felt a wave of nausea. A Benefactor's keen intuition told her everything she needed to know about the sickening gaze fixed upon her. She wanted nothing more than to leave this place at once and find soone to teach a lesson to her brother, whose audacity had grown more pronounced with each passing year.
"...Yes, I have been following the Fabry fraud centered in Eldron of the Cheslan Kingdom. The speech given in Fidektri was brilliant; its transcript was available in the papers. That Mr. Williams is clearly a man of great talent."
It was still the most talked-about event of the day. The Fabry fraud had opened many people's eyes to both the risks and the imnse profits of the erging financial industry.
"Oh? And what do you know about it?"
The king asked, gesturing for Dolores to sit. This was a significant gesture during their family talks; it ant the king was in a good mood and that the speaker had stumbled upon a topic of genuine interest to him.
"I don't know a great deal, Father, but I do have a few thoughts of my own."
She felt this was an opportunity to display a bit of her knowledge. Winning her father's favor could help her avoid a great deal of trouble in the future. She had realized this long ago but had always avoided getting entangled in the tireso business of politics. But now... things were different.
"I've grown up now," she thought to herself.
The sixteen-year-old girl sighed inwardly, then sat down with perfect posture and began her discourse with a simple question:
"I have long had a question, Father: what is the aning of money? As a relatively stable and generally accepted equivalent, its worth lies not in its intrinsic value, but in the value people assign to it and agree upon. In other words, it could just as easily be a piece of paper or a string of numbers."
Everyone who heard her was stunned by the idea, whether they truly understood its implications or not. The king stroked the short beard on his chin, offering no opinion, but simply gesturing for his daughter to continue.
Now, he was truly interested.
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