Lady Richilde checks for observers, and then flops down next to me.
"My uncle's hard work."
He must also be very talented at herding
cats.
"Really?"
"He's a highly capable negotiator and diplomat." She sighs. "Though habit probably plays a part. And having an elected monarch."
In other words, someone to pass the buck on to with your people concerning less
popular directive from the Crown.
"The one thing worse than those people in charge of an electoral province is them being in charge of all of them. It's actually quite an eye-opener for me. My home country is a democracy, so I've spent my whole life seeing the worst excesses of democracy, and after a while you can't help but thing: 'were things really so bad before we could elect our leaders?'. And now I know."
"I didn't think that Graf Todbringer was so bad."
Honestly, monarchies tended to be a bit of a raffle, though. One king might be energetic, intelligent and
driven, the next might be a slovenly defective more focused on getting his rocks off.
"And I respect your loyalty to your brother's soon-to-be family. Did you not see how vacant he looked? He basically let his courtiers do all the talking until I got him onto the subject of beastmen."
"That's a valid technique. Sometimes it's better not to let people know what you think."
'Better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.'
"For a dedicated Ulrician? I'm not playing to stereotypes here, but don't they value directness and assertiveness even more than Sigmarites, who aren't exactly shy and retiring themselves?"
"He has a lot on his mind."
Besides putting his boot up Beastman backsides? Managing the positively
quarrelsome peoples of the North?
"Like what?"
"His heir is unwell."
'Unwell' as in merely ill, as in 'ill in a way you don't speak of in polite company' or...
I open my eyes and turn my head towards her. "He could have led with that. There's no mortal disease that I can't cure."
"No, not a.. disease. He was born with… Difficulties."
Ah, one of the other results of the lottery of state: The
cripples. Often caused by rabid inbreeding amongst the upper class.
Ah. I think I can work out what she's talking about.
"Has anything I've said to you given you cause to believe that I understand circuitous speech? Do you mean that he's a mutant, or has-"
And more than in the 'has one extra toe' aspect, or in the 'some chaos entity is quietly giggling somewhere at the
jest?'
"No! No. Not that."
"-some sort of deformity?"
There's more than a few members of European royalty who should never have
bred...
"He has… Troubles of the mind."
"Oh."
Ah. Thick as two short planks, eh? Couldn't find his own arse with both hands?
"Are you unable to correct those? I was concerned that you might have tried that with Count Marius, and then he was… Much the same as he ever is. Perhaps a little more exuberant."
"All he wanted was a head. That was weird, yes, but not all that difficult."
Well, Marius, his court knows how to work around. Sometimes, all a ruler has to do is sit there looking pretty. And if he occasionally giggles to himself for odd reasons,
well...
She finally turns her head towards me, frowning. "I cannot understand how you did it."
I shrug. "The human body is made of matter. The ring can reshape matter. For mundane purposes there's nothing really special about a… Neck. I can take a piece of wood, reshape its material to match a section of his neck and then replace it."
Now, working with the vital energies of the
soul, that's a little trickier.
"With wood?"
"It wouldn't be wood after I changed it, that's what I'm saying. In material terms it would be exactly the same as human flesh." I shrug. "In my world, our chirurgeons can remove failing organs from a person's body and replace them. It's not a completely safe procedure, but the majority of people who undergo it survive."
Though it did take a while to get
right.
"Where do the organs come from?"
"People will them to medicine. The chirurgery needs to be carried out quickly, so people carry cards with them indicating that if they get injured and can't be saved they want their organs removed and used to heal the sick and injured."
Which more people
should do, really.
"That… Disturbing. I… Understand that it's intended as a final act of generosity… But taking parts out and putting them in someone else… I cannot help but think of necromancy or the foul deeds of Nurgle-worshippers."
"Dead organs aren't any good. And wouldn't Nurgle worshippers implant failing organs rather than healthy ones?"
And isn't there a pastiche of Victor Frankenstein out there somewhere? Probably in Sylvania... Never
mind what the Skaven of
Clan Moulder get up to.
"But if the person they're taken from is dead, how are the organs not dead?"
"It takes a while for the body to decay after death. Reducing the temperature extends that further. You still don't have more than a day or so..."
And if they have any kind of poison or damage... Well...
"But what of the mind? The brain?"
"Oh, we can't transplant those."
...Not
yet. Mostly because science is still quite leery of
that sort of tomfoolery.
"No, with Count Marius-. The head was not alive, surely?"
"No, no. I left his brain in his head and created a copy for the head." I frown. That's not a great sentence, but I think that she understands. "It didn't have any… Activity. Ah, honestly, given the complexity of the human brain I doubt that I could create one. I don't know enough about how it records memories."
Imagine a lump of meat weighing several pounds. Not particularly
tasty meat, but meat all the same.
She lays there, giving her attention to the ceiling.
"Who is Jesus Christ?"
Danger, Paol, danger!
"Hm?"
"You said 'Jesus Christ' as an exclamation. Is that the name of your people's god?"
Just say it's... Complicated?
"Ah. Sort of. He's the.. prophet whose teachings the main religion of my home country is based on. I'm not actually… A practitioner, I just got a bit… Frustrated."
"At least the Elder of the Moot asked for something practical."
True, a lot of 'blasphemous' words have devolved into cursewords.

You know, taking the Lord's name in vain and all that...
"Yeah. I'll have to pop back and see how they get on with greenhouses. I could build them here but I didn't think it was worth it."
The Moot may be a tiny area, but we need a road built there anyway, which means that we needed to deal with him as well as the ten Elector Counts. And the Moot's existing roads are so terrible that wagoners charge extra if they're employed to travel there, so I'm not holding out much hope that they'll be able to do the work themselves.
So not quite
Hobbiton, you know.
The Moot is much more... Warhammer-y.
But everyone agreed. Everyone agreed, and if this was anything to go by work will start in a year or two. Or three.
"Does the Empire just not do infrastructure projects?"
Pfft! What world do you
think you're living in, Paol?
"Not on this scale. It will be a first."
"If it works. And we've still got to talk to the Tzar. Have you met him?"
Ah,
Kislev. Much-abused bastion of the far North-East. And prime punching bag for Chaos Marauder warbands coming to the Empire.
"No. I thought that you had."
"Yes, I went daemon-hunting and we sort of bumped into each other, but he's been doing a lot of reforming Kislevite society and I'm not sure that he's got the cash for a major road-building program as well. And I don't know how the Ice Witches will feel about the imposition of hysh on their land, which is going to be a big issue because the Crown Princess is one and if she doesn't like it then it's not going to happen."
Ah, yes, the future
Tzarina Katarina. Iron of will and of spine. I doubt she'll brook any tomfoolery.
"I will speak to our ambassador and the ambassador of the Tzar concerning the…" She yawns, covering her mouth with her right hand. "Excuse me. Concerning how best to convince him."
"Yeah, that sounds like a plan."
But that can wait until
morning.
I flop a little further. It was difficult getting a piece of furniture like this made, and the material it's cushioned with will need replacing well before the modern equivalent, but in the mean.. time…
"…with your clothes on?"
...Well, that's a
rude awakening!
Whu-?
10th Sigmarzeit 2512
Morning
Sloppy, Paol. I can't imagine how
awkward this will be.
I blink at Aranei as-. Richilde stirs next to me and then jerks upright!
Aranei shakes her head. "If I must tolerate a human as a co-consort, you should at least do the job properly. Remove your clothes, and I will begin your instruction."
As nice as that sounds, I doubt this will end in anything but Richilde punching Aranei...