“No,” he said curtly. He then softened his tone and added, “As we both know, Modina is not well. I personally feel she may never be. But it’s imperative that her subjects believe they have a strong ruler. Through her name, Ethelred and I are doing great things for the people out there.” He pointed at the window. “But we can’t hope to succeed if they discover their beloved empress does not have her wits about her. It’s a difficult task that Novron has laid before us, to build a better world while concealing the empress’s incapacitation, which brings me to your first assignment.”

Amilia blinked.

“Despite all my efforts, word is getting out that the empress is not well. Since the public has never seen her, there is a growing rumor that she doesn’t exist. We need to calm the people’s fear. To this end, it will be your task to prepare Modina to give a speech upon the Grand Balcony in three days’ time.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, it’s only three sentences.” He picked up the parchment he had been reading and held it out to her. “It should be a simple task. You got her to say one word. Now get her to say a few more. Have her memorize the speech and train her to deliver it—like an empress.”

“But I—”

“Remember what I said about excuses. You are part of the nobility now, a person of privilege and power. I’ve given you means and with that comes responsibility. Now out with you. I’ve more work to do.”

Taking the parchments, she turned and walked toward the door.

“And, Lady Amilia, don’t forget that there were five imperial secretaries before you, and all of them were noble as well.”

“Well, if that don’t put a stiff wind in your main,” Ibis declared, looking at the patent of nobility Amilia showed him. Most of the kitchen staff gathered around the cook as he held the parchment up, grinning.

“It’s awfully pretty,” Cora pointed out. “I love all the fancy writing.”

“Never had a desire to read before,” Ibis said. “But I sure wish I could now.”

“May I?” Nimbus asked. He carefully wiped his hands on his handkerchief and, reaching out, gently took the parchment. “It reads ‘I, Modina, who am right wise empress, appointed to this task by the mercy of our lord Maribor, through my imperial regents, Maurice Saldur and Lanis Ethelred, decree that in recognition of faithful service and commission of charges found to our favor, Amilia of Tarin Vale, daughter of Bartholomew the carriage maker, be raised from her current station and shall belong to the unquestionable nobles of the Novronian Empire and will henceforth and forever be known as Lady Amilia of Tarin Vale.’” Nimbus looked up. “There is a good deal more, concerning the limitations of familial inheritance and nobility rights, but that is the essence of the writ.”

They all stared at the cornstalk of a man.