Chương 12: The Weight of Coin.

On the second day, Cendric trusted her just enough to let her out of his sight for a bit.

"Do not touch anything," he said, already halfway to the stairs.

"If someone important asks for me, say I will return in three hours, and do not try to be clever."

"Yes." He was gone before she finished the syllable. The tower changed the moment he left. The scribes relaxed a little, getting less tightly wound, conversations stretched a little longer, and a chair leaned back on two legs. Lira kept her head down and wrote. At the next desk, a younger scribe hunched over his ledger, chewing the end of his quill until the feather split.

"That can't be right," he muttered.

"It does not make sense. Ten bushels off… that throws the whole yield…" He scratched something out, then stared at the numbers as if they might rearrange themselves if he looked at them sideways. Lira took a look at them and identified the problem in a second.

"…unless I… no, that would not… can I even…"

"Sorry," she said, lowering her voice, "but did you carry the one from the spring tithe?" Silence. Then the rustle of pages, quicker now.

"…oh." He leaned closer, recalculating.

"Oh. Yes. That fixes it." Relief softened his shoulders.

"Thank you." A soft laugh came from behind them. Lira's hand stilled. She had not heard the door open or any footsteps. Harwin stood a few steps away, hands folded behind his back, his expression bright with quiet amusement.

"My, my," he said lightly.

"Did Celene send me a hidden talent?" Lira rose at once.

"I did not mean to interfere, sir."

"Interfere?" He stepped closer, glancing at the corrected figures.

"I wouldn't call that interference. You saved him half an hour of misery." He reached for her hand before she could withdraw it and pressed something into her palm. A coin. Lira's fingers closed on instinct, but a faint unease curled through her. The metal felt heavier than it should have, or maybe warmer. She didn't know how to describe it, but something felt off about it. She kept her face still.

"You helped," Harwin said cheerfully. He placed a new stack of ledgers in front of her, a denser load than what she was currently handling.

"You can handle these, I think. Estate accounts." His eyes flicked to hers, sharp and measuring beneath the humor.

"Try not to fix everything before the rest of us have a chance to look useful." He winked and moved on, already humming, already elsewhere. Lira sat back down slowly. The coin rested in her palm. She slipped it into her apron, but the warmth did not fade. By the third day, she had seen a lot more of Harwin, who spoke more often and worked with his men, being a capable leader rather than only giving orders. He drifted through the tower like the wind, never still for long.

He leaned against desks, perched on corners, and poured himself small cups of brandy from a cabinet built into the wall. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. He talked, joked, corrected mistakes, and gave little rewards of coins to anyone and everyone.

"Lord Berthwyn came again," he said one afternoon, casually.

"Asking about this year's grain taxes." He smirked.

"Curious that he cares so much, considering he didn't pay taxes for the last three years." Lira added figures to her column, neat and even. She nodded but didn't speak.

"Perhaps he got lucky with the dice this time," said one of the older bookkeepers.

"Not a chance." Harwin smiled. He swirled the brandy in his cup, watching the liquid catch the light.

"Do you know how many nobles owe more to the crown than they have paid in the last decade?" She shook her head slightly.

"Half of them," he said.

"At least." A nearby clerk snorted softly, then bent back over his work.

"Yet they come smiling," Harwin continued.

"Asking for time and for favors. Viscounts, barons, knights. Even Duchess Dupon tried to charm me into forgetting her account."

"She lives in the capital? Isn't the Dupon estate far to the east?" Lira asked.

"She has not left the capital in years." He laughed under his breath.

"Her estate might as well belong to her steward, considering he is the only one keeping things afloat… poor man." Lira filed the name away.

"Handling noble people's coins is a thankless job," Harwin added, almost chagrined.

"You spend hours saving them Silver coins only for them to blow Gold coins on jewelry, a show pony, or a dice roll." Lira nodded at that. He smiled, as if welcoming Lira as a co-conspirator. By the end of the week, the tower no longer felt like foreign ground to Lira. She knew the layout without thinking, which shelves held estate ledgers, which desks handled tax rolls, which scribes cut corners, and which ones feared mistakes enough to welcome help. She knew who talked too much. And who never spoke at all.

Most importantly, she knew the names. Who lived in the capital, who had not visited their lands in years, who owed enough to matter, and who was close to losing everything. She didn't put anything in ink yet, but she memorised it as best she could. Cendric still watched her. No longer suspicious of her competency, no, she had proved herself by leaps and bounds, but Lira could tell that he didn't trust her. Still, he said nothing. On the seventh evening, the tower had thinned.

Light from the tall windows had turned golden, then dimmed. Shadows stretched across the desks. The scratching of quills grew slower. Only Cendric and she remained on the floor. Lira finished the last page and stacked her work neatly.

"You are still here." She looked up. Harwin stood in the doorway, coat draped over one shoulder.

"Yes." He stepped inside, glancing at the pile beside her.

"You have done more in this week than most do in a month," he praised.

"You're almost as efficient as Cendric, and he has been doing this work for years." Across the room, Cendric did not react. Lira realized that maybe she had overdone it a little and stood out more than she should. It was as good a time as any to go on the offensive and justify her reason for coming here. She opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted when Harwin dropped a silver coin into her hand. The warmth came immediately… stronger this time. For a brief moment, her fingers almost recoiled.

She closed them anyway.

"Stay," he said.

"Full-time. I could use someone like you." Lira met his gaze.

"I am grateful…But, I can't." She put her hand in her pocket and produced the forged letter. Harwin started reading.

"I only showed it to Lady Celene because she was my direct superior and I needed her approval, but for doing anything… I know that if I want to restore the place… I will need your help. After all, you are the true power here after Steward Atropos' death."

"The library." He tilted his head.

"But it's just a ruin of dust and broken shelves."

"It does not have to be," Lira said. He studied her for a long moment, something thoughtful beneath the surface.

"It used to matter, you know," he said.

"The head librarian once held as much influence as the head maid. Some years, even more." A pause.

"Maybe it can again," he added. Then a slow smile spread across his face.

"If you manage that, I might even help. A steward benefits from useful friends, after all." His eyes flicked toward the window, the library tower visible behind her. He burst out laughing.

"And poor Cendric believed you were vying for his position," he smirked.

"Little did he know that you wanted to be my equal instead."

"I won't be your equal if you are the head steward, would I?" Lira grinned back.

"Oh, I know I liked you." The next day at noon, Lira passed through the castle gates. She walked with her cloak pulled tight, and she wandered for a bit, visiting the market and having lunch in one of the fancy restaurants that served the rich merchants and lower nobility. She made sure to use the coin from her pay rather than the two coins that Lord Harwin gave her as a tip. Those two coins still felt wrong to her, days after the fact.

After an unsuspicious amount of time, she decided to visit the drop-off point, where she placed an envelope of all the gathered information inside a letter box. She had spent the morning in her alcove compiling it into a list with all the relevant details: names, estates, and debts. Pallan would be pleased. On the way back, she noticed a boy crouched beside a bakery wall, his shoulders thin beneath worn cloth. His eyes were too large for his face. He looked starving.

Lira couldn't help but remember the first night she spent on the streets after her father's death. She stopped. Her hand moved to her apron. The coins were still warm. For a moment, she hesitated. Not because of their value, but because of the feeling she got from them. Then she crouched and pressed both the copper and the silver into his hand. He stared at them, then up at her, as if unsure they were real.

"You will need them more than I will," she said. His fingers closed slowly around the coins. Lira stood and walked away. The warmth in her palm was gone. The air felt colder against her skin. But as she pulled her cloak tighter and made her way back toward the castle, the weight she carried felt lighter. And for the first time since stepping into Harwin's tower, Lira was certain of one thing. Coin could move the world. But it was not the only power worth chasing.