"Your Majesty, you wished to see me?" Enzo's voice came from the other side of the Queen's Chamber door.
"Yes, Enzo. Come in." Hermi answered, swinging the door open.
The Queen's Chamber offered little in the way of furniture to facilitate a proper conversation. There was only a mahogany tea table and two couches upholstered in the same dark crimson velvet that seemed to cover every seatable surface within the fortress.
Hermi settled onto one of the couches and gestured for Enzo to take the seat across from her. Skipping the pleasantries, she got straight to the point.
"From what I learned in the Great Library, Enzo, you aren't just the man in charge of the fortress logistics. You also oversee the treasury."
By now, the Castellan seemed to have adjusted to Hermi's temperament. He took the offered seat without a single protest about his station.
"That is correct, Your Majesty," Enzo said. "Since there are so few administrative positions here, the previous kings never saw the need to appoint a separate treasurer."
"Then take me to the treasury vaults. I want to see the ledgers, and the coin itself."
Enzo's shoulders stiffened, the movement so slight it was almost imperceptible. "I can show you the vaults, Your Majesty," Enzo replied, his voice a bit too steady. "But I fear the walk there will take much longer than the tour itself."
Hermi's thoughts ground to a halt. The implication was as subtle as a slap.
"What do you mean, Enzo? Commander Marco told me my husband pulls in four hundred fifty trunks of coin a year from exporting metals and crystals. That's a fortune, even by Aurellanza's standards."
"That is true. But the income has already been spent for the year. Here in the Black Fortress, every grain of wheat, every bolt of cloth, every scrap of meat must be imported. The cost of the goods is not the problem, but the transportation costs are severe."
Hermi frowned. "How severe could it be?"
"Traveling to Ferramonte requires hired labor, reinforced wagons, and constant guards. Even then, carts are routinely lost to monsters."
"And none of those things can be grown or produced here? Not a single onion?"
"I'm afraid not, Your Majesty. The water is contaminated, the air is thick with sulfur, and the soil is just ash. Ferramonte has no self-sustaining economy. We are a kingdom that buys its own existence day by day."
Hermi could hardly believe her ears. Four hundred thirty years of rule, and the kings of Ferramonte had apparently spent four centuries doing absolutely nothing to improve the air, the water, or the land.
Studying the Castellan closely, Hermi refused to let him off the hook. "Surely my husband has a reserve. He is a king, Enzo, not some common laborer living paycheck to paycheck."
"His Majesty did maintain a reserve," Enzo replied cautiously. "However… it was largely depleted by your predecessors. The former queens had refined tastes. Their comforts were… astronomically expensive. Silks from Aurellanza, vintage wines from Olyndros, rare spices from Valerion. His Majesty spared no expense to meet their demands."
A dull ache pulsed behind Hermi's eyes. So, the tyrant was capable of being a love-struck fool after all, just not for her. For the previous wives, he had emptied the vaults. For Hermi, he couldn't even manage to walk her through the front door without making a scene.
"So let me understand this," Hermi said, her voice dry. "I married a king who is not only a tyrant, but also broke."
Enzo's face brightened, as though Hermi had finally arrived at an accurate conclusion. "Indigent would be the kinder term. But yes, Your Majesty. The coffers are nearly empty."
"Gods," Hermi muttered into her palms.
That wasn't what she had heard in her mother's stories. Ferramonte was supposed to be a place that hoarded mountains of coin from the mines. Yet, it turned out to be a far cry from the wealthy Aurellanza she'd intended to overthrow.
Sighing, Hermi looked up. "Enzo, you said my husband personally oversees the monster raids?"
"Indeed. His Majesty commands several teams dedicated to hunting monsters across Ferramonte."
"And the spoils? What becomes of them? Are any of them exported?"
"Most materials go toward reinforcing the knights' armor or maintaining the fortress," Enzo explained. "However, certain monster cores, glands, and crystallized organs fetch high prices abroad. Those are exported."
Resolve flashed across Hermi's face. If the money was in the wagons, that was where she needed to be. Leading the exports was the perfect excuse to flee Ferramonte's borders as often as possible. It would offer a reprieve from the Atmospheric Sickness and a chance to ensure the kingdom's remaining coin didn't vanish on the road.
However, she would have to train before she could lead a convoy. She knew nothing of Ferramonte's terrain, and her air magic was currently about as useful as a paper shield.
Rising from the couch, Hermi's expression brightened. "Good. Where can I find Commander Marco?"
Enzo blinked at her, finding no comfort in that smile. He hesitated, his voice dropping. "Commander Marco is overseeing training in the Outer Yard. The training grounds beneath the western rampart."
The Castellan was promptly ushered out of the Queen's Chamber. Hermi shed her gown and rummaged through her trunks until she found the trousers and the linen shirt she'd brought from Aurellanza.
With her belt fastened and hair cinched back in a tight knot, Hermi returned to the door. Enzo's expression darkened the moment he saw her attire. True to his nature, however, he bit his lip and kept his concerns to himself as he turned to lead the way.
The training grounds were a wide arena paved with black volcanic stone. Racks of weapons lined the walls: greatswords chipped from battle, spears tipped with dark metal, and even some crossbows reinforced with monster bone.
Clusters of knights gathered for their drills, their cloaks heavy fabric, their boots scarred. Every piece of gear looked used, repaired, then used again, like a testament to the kingdom's indigent status.
The moment Hermi entered, the knights froze mid-swing. They stared as though the Queen were a ghost haunting her own fortress. She recognized a few faces from the wedding entourage. The rest were a blur of gray-eyed strangers.
Commander Marco's towering height and dark skin made him the easiest to spot among them. He appeared the most delighted to see her, though his wide eyes suggested he was just as baffled as his men.
"Your Majesty! You look radiant again today!" Marco's voice boomed across the yard.
Hermi coughed as Marco approached. The last time Marco had seen her, she had been anything but radiant.
"Yes, I am in better condition today, Commander," she said with a small smile. "Thank you."
Marco returned the smile, his voice lightening. "What brings you here? Do you need to purchase something from abroad?"
From Marco's tone, Hermi gathered that the previous queens had used the military mostly as a personal shopping service. Marco himself must have been accustomed to hauling luxury goods in and out of Ferramonte for them.
"Not at all," Hermi replied. "I'm here for a more urgent matter."
"What could be more urgent than your needs?"
"I need you to train me in combat, Commander."
The entire Outer Yard fell into silence. The bright smile instantly vanished from Marco's face. The Commander stared at his Queen, looking as though he doubted his own hearing.
Then, he blinked, shaking off the stupor before blurting out, "Train… train you? Your Majesty, what would you need combat training for?"
Hermi cleared her throat, then spoke loudly enough for every knight in the Outer Yard to hear. "I intend to join the monster raids. So drill me until I can slay a monster properly, Commander."
Marco's face went completely pale. "Your Majesty, that is impossible. His Majesty would never—"
"He would allow it," Hermi cut in cleanly, then a memory suddenly emerged. "No, actually, I don't need my husband's permission at all. Though I am now a useless air mage, I am still Queen. I am responsible for strengthening the economy of my kingdom."