“I’m also abdicating,” Janel continued. “I suppose that means she’s properly Count Ninavis Theranon. You will, of course, approve that succession. Which should be more than enough title to soothe anyone who would object to a Joratese ruler jumping from knight to duke.” She tilted her head toward Ninavis. “Bad news, though. I’m afraid you’re going to have to give up the tournament circuit.”

Ninavis stared at her hard. “I’ll cope.”

Aroth sputtered. “You can’t just pick a person and declare them in charge!”

Janel laughed. “Yes, we can. We can, and we do. All the time. Now you and I both know that since the duke died without heirs, there will be a meeting of the ruling nobles to pick a successor. You’ll find a great many of those nobles will have no problem putting in their vote for the Count of Tolamer. Especially once word begins to spread that said count is the Black Knight. You know, the one who slew that giant dragon? Everyone saw her ushering people to safety earlier while you and your family evacuated with the rest of the herds.”

Aroth’s nostrils flared. “This woman didn’t kill that dragon.”

“Oh, but I say she did,” Janel corrected. “And as I’m Janel Danorak, I know something about the power of a reputation. However, I never planned on relying on your good grace and kindness to ensure your cooperation.” Janel motioned to Ninavis.

In response, the woman pulled a sheet of parchment out of her satchel. She leaned over a brazier next to the desk and set an edge on fire, releasing the sheet as the whole paper caught.

“What was that?” Aroth demanded.

“I do believe that was a lien for fifty thousand thrones given to Count Jarin Theranon,” Ninavis explained. “Oh, did you need that?”

“What? How did you get that?”

“And this—” Ninavis pulled another paper out of the satchel. “Is another lien, originally between Jarin Theranon and the Baron of Omorse, but you bought that, didn’t you? Only ten thousand this time. Still, you have lent people a lot of money, haven’t you?” She rolled up the piece of paper and tapped it against the edge of the brazier. “All these loans. Half the empire is in debt to you, Aroth.”

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Janel pursed her lips. “Truth be told, you stopped being a Markreev a long time ago. You’re not a Joratese noble protecting his herd; you’re a bank. A usurer.”

“How did you get those?” the Markreev demanded again. He glanced back at the entrance as if giving serious consideration to calling for his guards.