The 4th Princess Just Wants to Rot!

Guardsman Mori Fushimi keeps her stance at attention, yet in those eyes that dart through this empty antechamber she tries to search for the listening devices; the smallest of microphone radios to scry into this conversation. "Ya know what these six staff members you've chosen can do, right? What they actually are?"

The Central Committee of Consciousness pauses everything, pooling resources into this question proposed by this guard. Remember that we made this choice of employment based off of a singular observation: their vibes.

Yes. Another thought agrees. But let's say, out of a set of servants, what sets apart six individuals? Out of twenty four, what could make an entire fourth stand out from them all?

Oh.

Six stand before a black throne.

Six weeds planted in an orchard.

Uh oh.

Wouldn't it make sense for Zai's father to have put some of his own personnel into the confidant of his son? To watch over Zai from the Prince's own inner circle? To protect him?

To sabotage him?

Sophia pauses for this next donut in her hands, keeping her eyes fixated on it. "These weren't Zai's staff, were they?"

Mori doesn't reply, letting the silence give the answer to this Fourth Princess.

Ooops. A thought process chuckles nervously. We kinda just… maybe dug our own grave without realizing it? Time to ask!

And Sophia Elise the Eighth pulls the cold, emotionless mask onto her face. The scowl, the emptiness in those blue eyes, she turns towards this lowly Guardsman and plays the game. "How many spies did the Lord of the Dominion plant in Zai's personal staff?"

Guardsman Fushimi keeps her tone steady as the smile on her face fades. "Ma'am?"

"You know." Sophia stares directly at this woman's forehead. "How many?"

There's a moment where the battle eats itself on this Guardian's face, torn between loyalties present and sworn.

Push her now. The internal monologue bites. Repeat the question.

"Guardsman." She narrows her eyes, tilting her head like a hawk analyzing a gutted mouse in its talons. "How many?"

"Six, ma'am." Mori Fushimi breaks, holding her breath in her throat.

"And how many did I choose from the six?"

"A-all six, Ma'am."

Aw crap. Sophia Elise reaches for another calming donut; quickly, but steadily ripping a chunk of fried dough from it. We literally just handpicked an entire cadre of spies from Zai's own staff.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

This Princess takes a breath; cold, calculated—hiding a tsunami of panic. "I see. Tell me, are these individuals members of the Political Apparatus?"

The Guardsman takes a quick breath, hiding a gasping for air. "I… well most of them are, yes. The brother and sister pair, those two northerners, probably worked in Dominion Intelligence."

"I see, the remainder are apparatus agents?"

"T-they are members of the Apparatus, yes." Guardsman Fushimi tries to explain, stumbling over these words. "But eh, I ain't allowed to know any of their lil' backstories before they were assigned. I know a few… a few…"

Goddess she's actin' a little scared. Sophia analyzes. We've never seen her hesitate like this before. We should…

Wait no.

Sophia Elise catches the tightness in the lower jaw, in the hurried glances from the eyes of that trained woman too quickly to gather visual information.

She's faking terror.

"Mori." This Fourth Princess interrupts with a brutally honest question. "Why are you acting afraid?"

The Guardsman stops, pausing with a bit of surprise as she reads that expression on Sophia's face. "What?"

"You are trying too hard." Sophia coldly tells her. "Why?"

She's caught, her simple, attempted subtle revelation revealed by this quite sharp noble. "Well, maybe I'm just trying to warn you.

"You can't trust any of your staff, and if you can't trust any of them then what shall you do?" Mori tells her, explains to this outsider the nature of this place's politics. "I'd… well I'd say you go back and choose 'em all over again. Maybe only leave one or two in your circle for the assurance of our Lord of the Dominion, but choose a majority of Zai's own."

Ridiculous. Sophia's pride eats her. If we go back on this then the entire political strata of Tianci will think we're some sorta flaker! No, we're committed to this group, to these six spies!

A thought process raises its objection, however. Still, we don't exactly have someone we can trust in this group. We need at least one person…

"Guardsman, are you capable of being my head of staff for these matters?"

She takes a sharp breath. "I ain't the best at paperwork, and plus: any duties beyond keeping you safe puts you at risk. Sorry."

Ok. Sophia's mind begins to spin, working through this atrocious task of middle-management employee procurement. We'll put out some requirements for choosing a Head of Staff:

One: Appropriately loyal, because that's very important in Tianci for some reason

Two: Competent at their jobs, because that's what it should be all about, just like at home

Three: Be a personality fit(?), they shouldn't judge us for rotting in bed, or slacking off all day. Because that's what we're gonna be trying to do all the time.

And it takes a minute for her to process these three categories, that cavernous room and two guards waiting for nearly an entire minute for this Fourth Princess to find the simplest, and perfect answer to all of her (current) problems.

The blood of silver runs through her veins, and through that faith placed upon her she gives the surprisingly confident order to her Tianci Guardsman. "Mori, send a missive out to the Imperial Embassy. Inform them that I am requisitioning the services of Elodie Chasseur for the foreseeable future."

"For…?"

"She will be my personal Head of Staff." She drops this bomb like disposable paper wrapping, continuing to munch on what was now her fifth donut of this ten minute block of plotting.

"Y-you want a known Operative of the Silver Hand, a foreign intelligence agent, as your chief of staff. Someone who'd be uh…" And there's a long pause as Mori sees this line of strange logic held in the heart of that Princess.

Plans within plans.

Games within games.

If there is one soul in this cursed place that she could give her life to, it would be one whose life was forged alongside the strands of silver; whose oath had remained unbroken across thousands of kilometers and dozens of opportunities.

And Mori Fushimi reminds herself that this girl was still, in fact, a Princess of that Imperium.

"... alright~" The Guardsman smirks, pausing before adding one last point. "But uh… there's still the thing of your required audiences."

REQUIRED?!