Chapter 251: Chapter-251

’”Work,”’ it said. ’”Work work work work work. Do you know what normal people do after dismantling a thirty-one-year corruption network?”’

“Walk to the throne room,” Elara said, quietly enough that the guards flanking her assumed she was talking to herself. They had, over three months, developed a comprehensive professional policy of not noticing when she did this.

’”They REST,”’ the System said. ’”They celebrate! They eat something with multiple courses! They sit in a garden and say ’well done, me’ at the sky! They do NOT schedule six additional meetings and a collar review for the same morning!”’

“The collar review is important,” Elara said.

’”Everything is ALWAYS important with you!”’

She turned the corner into the main corridor. Morning staff lined the walls, bowing. Several of them looked slightly confused — their eyes kept sliding toward the space near Elara’s left hip, where something kept triggering their peripheral vision and refusing to resolve into anything concrete when they looked directly at it.

One junior clerk turned to his colleague and mouthed: ’Did you see—’

His colleague mouthed back: ’Don’t.’

The System zoomed up to eye level, flying backwards in front of Elara so it could look directly at her face, wings working furiously to maintain the reverse position.

’”I want to register a formal complaint,”’ it announced.

“You can’t file formal complaints,” Elara said. “You’re a system.”

’”I am FILING ONE ANYWAY.”’

“You don’t have paperwork.”

’”DON’T START WITH ME ABOUT PAPERWORK.”’

A passing knight glanced at Elara with polite concern. She gave him the expression that meant ’everything is normal’ and he immediately looked away and became very interested in the opposite wall.

’”Item one,”’ the System said, pulling out what appeared to be a tiny glowing scroll from absolutely nowhere. ’”Host continues to eat all meals at desk.”’

“Food is fuel,” Elara said.

’”Food is PLEASURE. Food is a SOCIAL EVENT. Food is something you sit down for with PEOPLE YOU KNOW—”’

“Mahir was in my office last night,” Elara said.

’”You discussed collar legal frameworks for forty minutes and then he LEFT.”’

“We also talked about—”

’”Four sentences,”’ the System said. ’”Four sentences that were not about governance. I COUNTED.”’

Elara turned into the east passage. “You counted.”

’”I absolutely counted. I have been counting for three months. My running total of non-governance conversation is—”’ it consulted the tiny scroll, ’”—four hundred and seventeen sentences. That sounds like a lot until you realize that’s spread across NINETY-TWO DAYS.”’

“That’s—” Elara did the calculation instantly. “Roughly four and a half sentences per day.”

’”FOUR AND A HALF.”’ The System tucked the scroll away. ’”The average person has approximately sixteen thousand words of casual conversation per day.”’

“I’m not average,” Elara said.

’”You are BARELY VERBAL,”’ the System said. ’”You are a remarkably brilliant, deeply concerning, occasionally wonderful person who is functionally allergic to the concept of leisure and I am WORRIED about you.”’

“I appreciate the concern,” Elara said. “It’s noted.”

’”It is NOT noted. You note things and they go on the list and then there are seventeen other items and my concern gets pushed to item eighteen and item eighteen never gets addressed because items one through seventeen always turn out to be URGENT.”’

Elara almost said something.

Didn’t.

The System, who had been watching her face with the dedicated attention of three months of practice, caught it. “What,” it said.

“Nothing,” Elara said.

’”You were going to admit something,”’ the System said, now flying alongside her right ear like a very intense small commentator. ’”Your jaw did the thing.”’

“My jaw doesn’t do a thing,” Elara said.

’”It absolutely does a thing. It gets slightly tighter before you say something you didn’t plan to say and then you stop yourself. It’s very distinctive.”’

Elara said nothing.

’”Elara,”’ the System said.

Still nothing.

’”HOST.”’

“Bernard sent a second report,” Elara said.

A pause.

’”…What.”’

“The ninth prince. Bernard the frog. He sent a second progress report this morning.” She kept her eyes forward. “Bernard has eaten twice. Prince Rivan wanted me to know.”

The System was completely silent for four entire seconds. Which was, Elara had learned, essentially unheard of.

Then: ’”You’re keeping the reports.”’

“They’re documentation,” Elara said.

’”You’re keeping them in the left drawer.”’

“That’s where documentation—”

’”Next to the evidence files,”’ the System said, its voice taking on the specific texture of something experiencing enormous emotion and trying to be responsible about it. ’”You are keeping a child’s frog updates in the same drawer as evidence of imperial treason.”’

“The drawer has space,” Elara said.

’”I could CRY,”’ the System said. ’”I am GOING to cry.”’

“Please don’t,” Elara said. “We’re about to enter a formal proceeding.”

’”I’ll cry QUIETLY.”’

“You can’t cry quietly. Last time you cried you made the lamp flicker for twenty minutes.”

’”That was emotionally WARRANTED.”’

They turned the final corner toward the throne room entrance. Ken was already there, standing with two knights in the formal arrangement Elara had requested. He looked at Elara. His eyes moved briefly to the space near her right shoulder where something kept making the air shimmer slightly, then deliberately back to her face.

He’d stopped commenting on it approximately two months ago.

“Is the council assembled,” Elara said.

“Four of five,” Ken said. “Empress Dowager’s arrival estimated in three minutes.” A pause. “Her secretary delivered the attendance confirmation personally.”

“She came herself,” Elara said.

“Stood at the door,” Ken said. “Looked at the corridor layout. Left.”

’”She was checking exits,”’ the System said.

’I know,’ Elara thought at it.

’”She thinks there’s still a version of this where she walks out without the proceedings concluding against her.”’

’Let her think that,’ Elara thought. ’Confidence is a form of blindness.’

She straightened her jacket. Checked the butterfly pin.

The System rose to her shoulder and settled there with the practiced ease of something that had decided this was its designated location for important events. It weighed nothing she could feel. But she was aware of it — the specific texture of its presence at the edge of her vision, the slight warmth it generated when it was paying close attention to something.

Three months of this. She’d stopped noticing when she started finding it — not exactly comforting, because that was too strong a word — but present in the way a correctly placed piece of furniture is present. You’d notice if it was gone.

She would notice.

She filed that away.

’”Fourteen official princes,”’ the System said quietly. ’”An unknown number of unofficial ones. A consort system tied to three noble houses. Collar extraction running for fourteen years. Seven children with unsanctioned procedures. And in approximately three minutes, thirty-one years of constructed power walks through that door and you’re going to take it apart with a folder of documents and four witnesses.”’

’Yes,’ Elara thought.

’”And after,”’ the System said.

’After,’ she confirmed.

’”Dinner,”’ it said. ’”At a table. With at least one other human person.”’

’Dinner,’ she agreed.

’”With CONVERSATION.”’

’With conversation.’

’”More than four sentences.”’

Elara almost, almost smiled. The left corner. Very brief. Like a sneeze that changed its mind. ’Fine,’ she thought.

’”I want that in writing,”’ the System said.

“Absolutely not,” she said out loud.

Ken looked at her.

“Ready,” she told him.

He nodded. Turned to the doors.

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