I smoothed down my robe and glanced at the mirror. I felt like I’d stepped back into an old, familiar role. One that I’d barely realized I’d gotten used to, before I dropped it, and that was now here waiting for me, just the way I’d left it. Except that I wasn’t quite the same. The recent experiences had changed me, perhaps only in small ways, but enough to make the lavish, blue and silver cultivator’s robes seem like they didn’t fit quite perfectly.

Although, of course, they did. I noticed that I was standing just a little straighter, and turned away from the mirror, smiling in amusement at myself. Princess Inaris was back now, completely.

And not a day too soon. I stifled a sigh as I recognized the presence coming up the corridor to my rooms. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one, as the servants in the room shifted their positions. There were only a few around, helping with my clothing or just standing ready to cater to my whims. I’d been considering letting them pamper me for a bit, but now brushed those thoughts aside.

Mother knocked, then opened the door after a few moments. She gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Inaris. Can I come in?”

“Of course.” I turned and walked to an armchair, gesturing at the furniture scattered around the room. “Take a seat if you want.”

Mother glided into the room and sat down on a couch close to my chair. “I see you’ve settled in again.”

I nodded, then glanced at the servants. “Bring us some tea, please, and leave us alone.”

They bowed and scurried off. At least they didn’t look at the Empress before following my order. Mother didn’t seem to care at all. Her posture betrayed some tension, although she tried to appear relaxed. But by now, I knew her well enough to see past it.

I wondered what she got from me. Probably a lot, she knew me even before my soul journey. I wasn’t sure what the significance was of her coming to visit me, instead of summoning me to her, although it seemed like a courteous gesture.

“You know, this is probably the most like Earth it’s ever been for us,” I said. “The mother coming to talk to her daughter about her new boyfriend. Only there are a lot of other details.”

Mother smiled a little. “I don’t know, I wouldn’t go that far.” Her smile faded. “But about Carston …”

“What the hell were you thinking?” I asked. “No, correction, what the hell are you thinking?”

Mother made a fist and opened her fingers again, then continued speaking calmly. “I realize that you don’t like the situation, and from your perspective, your feelings are completely justified. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“I thought you broke up,” I answered. “Even disregarding all that happened while he was the Zarian’s hostage, it seems like you’re back together in some form? You’re letting him just stroll around here, with free run of the palace, casually address you by your first name — or me for that matter — and no one dares say anything. You’re showing him an awful lot of trust.”

Mother sighed. “I suppose so. To address your first point, yes, we did break up. It’s one of the things I’ve regretted in the years since. Especially with some time and distance to consider what went wrong.”

I frowned. “I guess I can understand that.”

“I loved him, Inaris.” She met my eyes squarely. “Things between us didn’t work out for various reasons. My expectations and goals differed from his, my work put a strain on the relationship, and there were perhaps some commitment or trust issues. I won’t deny that your presence and parentage were a factor, as well. Things slowly came to a head after Al came along.”

I tilted my head. “Because he wanted you to be more of a traditional family than you were?” I guessed. “Perhaps he wanted you to officially acknowledge him as Al’s father?”

Mother grimaced. “Astute. Yes, that was probably part of it. I’d told him upfront that I wouldn’t do that, but perhaps he still hung onto hope. But it doesn’t matter much, now.”

“So, what? You feel guilty for how things went last time, so now you want to make up for it by jumping into a new relationship with him, despite everything?”

Mother narrowed her eyes. “You really seem intent on pushing me today.”

I didn’t answer, just looked at her.

Finally, she sighed again and shook her head. “I know your concerns are justified. I’m certainly not giving him my complete trust, rest assured. And perhaps I’m being a little irrational, but … I can’t help how I feel. Which means that I still care deeply for Carston. Meeting him again, my anger just seemed so hollow by comparison.” She cleared her throat. “I can’t explain it well, but I am doing what I want to do. And I expect you to behave yourself. Is that clear?”

“Of course, Mother.” I leaned back in my seat, content that I had some insight on her reasoning, if you could call it that, and her emotional state.

Not that I was happy with it, but I knew pushing her further now would be a bad idea.

We were quiet for a bit, just stewing in awkward silence. I didn’t break it, since I felt like Mother was more tense than me, or at least more emotional.

“Any other issues?” she finally asked.

I shifted my weight and leaned forward a little, keeping my back straight, my posture attentive but relaxed. “What about Kei Yating and your other lovers? Are you going to make things exclusive now?”

She frowned a little. “No, probably not.”

I shrugged. “Then I don’t think there’s anything more to say. Except - “ I hesitated as I was struck by a sudden thought. “You would tell me if you were planning on having another child, wouldn’t you?”

Mother’s eyebrows lifted a bit. “Ah. No, I’m not planning on it, at the moment.”

“I see.” I really didn’t like that ‘at the moment.’

After another pause, Mother finally stood up. “Well, I do have work to do. Things are quite busy with the war and trying to manage the nobles. Take some time to settle in and familiarize yourself with the situation, then I’ll have work for you.”

I didn’t stand up to see her off. Mother crossed the room and left without another word. For a moment, I just kept sitting there, my chin on my hand as I considered. Then I gave myself a little shake and started moving.

I’d never been to the rooms that were housed in a little structure just beneath and to the side of the clan’s quarters, before the main administrative offices started. But the place wasn’t hard to find, and I reached it quickly. I gave absent nods to the people I encountered on the way, but didn’t stop to speak to anyone, and they cleared out of my way.

I knocked, then waited for a muffled invitation to enter before I stepped into the room. At first glance, it looked just like any other office. But there were a lot of file drawers, many of them with some serious amount of qi sunk into enchantments and locks, and two of our new computers. It was a large room, and several doors led off into adjacent ones, most of them open. I stepped inside slowly, looking around with curiosity.

The three people who’d been at work here, sitting at various desks, went to their knees upon seeing me. A moment later, Kariva appeared from another room, and bowed deeply. “Your Highness.”

I continued my look around the room before I acknowledged them. “Please rise. Cousin Kariva, may I have a word?”

“Of course, my lady. If you’ll step into my office?”

I followed her through another room and a barren corridor before we reached her office. It looked like the other room, housing a large desk, several chairs, a lot of cabinets, and no personal decorations as far as I could tell.

I didn’t ask why she had an office when she didn’t hold any official position. Anyone at court was supposed to be aware of her organization’s existence. I understood that much. The lack of official acknowledgment, even the lack of a proper name, was, in part, intended for intimidation value. It wasn’t quite a secret police, but in a few more decades, it might turn into one.

“Would you like to take a seat?” she asked.

“Thank you. You may sit as well,” I added, since Kariva seemed to be generally bent on formality.

I took a seat in a comfortable chair and watched as Kariva chose another chair in front of, instead of the one behind, the desk.

“I was wondering how you felt about this development with Carston,” I said after we’d both sat down. “If you’ll forgive me for prying, and of course I’m not asking you to violate any confidences.”

Kariva smiled slightly. “That’s perfectly fine, Princess Inaris. I knew about Lord Carston’s return ahead of time. Your mother went to me to arrange things, to get in contact with the Black Knife. Of course, she didn’t share her reasoning, and I saw this as more of a political move.”

“Remove a possible source of information for the Zarian.” I nodded. “I can agree with that. So you didn’t conceive of it as a rescue operation, primarily.”

“That’s correct.” Kariva leaned back in her chair. “As you can no doubt guess, I would have preferred to keep him safely stowed somewhere, and perhaps do a more thorough interrogation. But Her Majesty’s mind is made up.”

I smiled. It was good to hear her speak so openly and casually about that. “Of course.”

We didn’t speak for a while, but unlike with Mother, this silence didn’t seem awkward. I was aware of Kariva looking me over, assessing me, but I didn’t mind. We understood each other, at least in that moment.

Finally, she spoke up again. “If you find the time, Princess Inaris, perhaps you should assess how things are progressing when it comes to the new technology and industry.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Anything in particular?”

Kariva shrugged. “Things have slowed down when it comes to development, but there’s more than enough to keep the Empire busy. I’m not an economics expert, but the war seems to have changed the situation considerably, and perhaps not for the better.”

“Industrialization of the war-relevant part seems to be progressing well?”

“Oh yes, it does. There’s been a large increase in productivity. We have the beginnings of some real mass production here. That includes factories making various mundane parts that would have previously been handled by others, but make up components of objects we need for the war. Soldiers’ equipment like water flasks, medical paraphernalia, even arrow bolts.” She paused. “Not much of it will be needed once we win the war, certainly not in these quantities.”

“And meanwhile, other projects are suffering,” I concluded.

“Indeed. Even ones that would have a larger impact on the war, long-term.”

I sighed. “Well, I’m not sure how much we can do about that. There’s no point thinking about twenty years from now if we’ve been conquered by then.”

“Of course,” Kariva said, smiling thinly. “I know the war isn’t in a state where we can afford to reduce our efforts. I simply wanted to point it out.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “And the new communications technology?”

“Working quite well. All cities and many towns on the continent are now linked by telegraph lines, and our field tests for telephone lines are promising. The military has been adopting radios quite well, too, although there have been some hiccups.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Right. But you wanted to talk about industry.”

Kariva hesitated for a moment, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Frankly, I’m concerned about the social impact, Princess Inaris. Like I said, I’m no economist, but it’s plain to see that our economy is going to undergo — is perhaps already undergoing — a major change. Of course, you know that, and I suppose it’s inevitable for our progress. But it’s still an issue, and the middle of a war might not be the best time for such a sweeping change.”

I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes for a moment. I knew this was coming. You can’t have industrialization without some growing pains. If you look at Earth, the Industrial Revolution is generally not a good time to live in.

“You’re quite right,” I said. “What is happening now, and which parts of it concern you? And what could be a threat to, well, us?”

“Broadly, there’s concern about jobs that are being lost as craftspeople are pushed out of work in favor of factories,” Kariva started. “It’s not happening a lot yet, and in time, the increase in productivity and employment opportunities due to the factories will more than offset this. Or the service and entertainment industries, in due time, once we move to a technological age. People generally understand this, with a bit of help.”

I nodded, suddenly reminded that Kariva did come from what I would consider a science fiction world, for all that she’d died as a child.

“The bigger hurdle is what this will do to the economic system and the balance of power, as new types of resources become valuable, and production and technology more important than raw materials.”

“Go on.”

“You know that most of the Empire’s population is concentrated in cities and towns, right?”

I nodded. I’d found that surprising, considering the more feudal society. But it made sense in light of the agricultural yield and the Empire’s recent population boom. For the local meaning of ‘recent’.

“While the nobility is an important factor almost everywhere, they hold the most power in the more rural places,” Kariva explained. “But how much land a clan owns is not a good indicator of power, anymore, and it’s getting to be even less so. Families that base their fortune on land ownership are in decline, and becoming … anxious.”

I sighed. And the war isn’t helping, I’m guessing.

Kariva tapped a finger on her armrest. “It bears mentioning that this is not just a domestic Imperial problem. If you look at who supports Hajake, I suspect it’s essentially the same group, over in Terbekteri.”

That caught my attention. I sat up straighter. “Really?”

“They tend to be more socially conservative as well, and are a strong powerbase for an aspiring heir or ruler,” Kariva stated, her eyes narrowed. “Terbekteri has only gotten a taste of what’s happening, but they were less prepared for it than the Empire.”

I resisted the urge to sigh again. “I can’t help but notice there are a lot of people who would like to see me dead and the innovation halted. Or our clan deposed, for that matter.”

Kariva leaned forward slightly. “There certainly are. Many people stand to lose from our activity, or stand to gain from a transfer of power. And some of them are certainly beyond idle wishes and hoping to get lucky.”

I felt a cold shiver creep down my spine. The way she said that … this was certainly a problem. Perhaps not now, but it would be a big one. “Tell me more.”

“Unfortunately, there’s not much to tell,” Kariva grimaced. “I’m investigating some things, but I’d prefer to wait until I have more of it worked out.” She sighed. “It doesn’t help that Acura is rather distracted recently.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Keep cultivating.”

I blinked. “That’s not what I was expecting to hear.”

Kariva leaned back in her chair and tapped her finger against its armrest a few times. “You should keep in mind that this is not the world you, or I, come from. Power very much correlates with someone’s cultivation strength.”

“I know that.”

She tilted her head a little. “A far disproportionate percentage of people in the eighth stage are from the nobility.”

I winced as I saw what she was getting at. “Ah. How bad is it?”

“Well,” she shrugged. “Your mother is rather young and weak, for them. It helps that older cultivators like Kiyanu support her. Still, most of them aren’t particularly loyal. That’s always been the case, of course.”

I nodded and sat in silence for a moment, pondering this. I didn’t expect there would be a coup or anything, but a lack of support among what were basically the nation’s people-shaped weapons of mass destruction wasn’t a good place to be in. Something else nagged at my thoughts, as well, though.

“I’ll do my best to rise quickly.” I stood up, but hesitated before I left. “Cousin, when will you reach the eighth stage?”

Kariva smiled. “Perhaps in a hundred years. We’ll see.”

A hundred years. Funny, that. I nodded and left the room, closing the door behind me quietly.

I knew Kariva was at least in the middle of the seventh stage and had risen quickly. It shouldn’t take her a hundred years. Not under normal circumstances. I should be relieved, but I couldn’t quite muster the emotion.

I hadn’t thought about Mother’s deadline in a while. At least I was pretty sure I would reach the black stage in a few decades at most.