Chapter 104. Headache on Working Day

A low, insectile buzz filled the darkness. The television flickered, ghostly images dancing across a glowing screen.

"...rapid dehydration allows the noodles to rehydrate in minutes..."

Hannah sat cross legged on her sofa, her eyes glazed over with exhaustion. She clicked the remote.

"...iron sand and charcoal, heated for three days in a clay tub..." She clicked again. Static hissed through the speakers.

"Francesca."

Sensing a familiar, haunting voice, she turned slowly, sluggishly. "Yes?"

A body stood before her in the dim living room. Tall, catching the flickering blue light of the screen. Broad shoulders. A familiar uniform. But as her eyes drifted up to meet his, there was no head. Just a ragged, bloodied stump where a neck should be!

She opened her mouth to scream, and-

Gasp!

Francesca's eyes snapped open. She shot upright, her chest heaving violently, her silver hair plastered to her forehead with cold sweat. The bedroom was completely quiet, filled only with the dull morning sunlight filtering through the frosted windows.

A second later, a dull, throbbing ache spiked behind her eyes. She instantly grabbed her head, wincing from the sheer pain of last night’s drinking.

“Ah... you are awake,” Miller said. He was standing near the dressing table, finishing buttoning up his heavy winter coat.

“This is exactly why I told you to control your drinking last night. Now you have a terrible hangover,” he sighed, his tone gentle but chiding. Miller walked slowly over to her side of the bed. “So, was it another nightmare?”

Francesca nodded, still pressing the heels of her hands against her temples. “I really need something for this hangover... Ugh...”

“Rest up. You don’t really have much on your schedule today, right?” He patted her back soothingly, then reached over and rang the bell to call for Stella. “I will be showing His Highness around the territory today, so you can use my office if you are going to be working. My chair is far more comfortable than the one in yours.”

“Yeah...” Francesca mumbled, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to his forehead.

Miller smiled and took his leave just as Stella entered the room, cheerfully carrying a steaming wooden tray.

“Your Ladyship, here is some dried Moringa broth soup! It is exceptionally good for hangovers,” Stella announced, placing the tray gently on the bedside table.

Francesca paused, staring blankly at her maid. Stella was smiling brightly, practically radiating energy and good health. Francesca let out a long, miserable sigh. “You drank far more than I did last night. Why am I the only one struggling?” she complained, shifting to the edge of the bed and picking up the spoon.

“I think... that is just what they call being a lightweight, My Lady,” Stella replied with a teasing smile.

Francesca held her throbbing head with her free hand, slowly taking a spoonful of the warm soup, thought bitterly to herself. No, It just means the rest of you are huge boozehounds.

The Viscount's Office, Lord’s Castle, Ironwood Viscounty

“Ha...” Francesca rubbed the left side of her head while reading through a thick stack of ledgers. Outside, the howling winds of the Winter Freeze rattled aggressively against the frosted windowpanes.

“It looks like today’s snow storm is a bit more intense. Hopefully, that doesn't cancel the cable cart's operations. His Highness was excited to see it in action,” Stella commented, placing a steaming cup of coffee alongside a plate of fried smoked fish snacks on the heavy oak desk.

“It will be fine...” Francesca replied absentmindedly, keeping her focus on the documents. “How far along is the dress for the Hollowland New Year's banquet?”

She circled a few concerning numbers on the paper as Stella reported, “The tailors have worked very closely to the exact style Your Ladyship requested. They did have some trouble acquiring the right material at first, but the new trade route by the cable cart easily solved that.”

“That is good... There is only a week left before New Year's Eve, after all.” Francesca tapped her pen thoughtfully against the desk before taking a long sip of the coffee.

Placing the cup down, she let out a heavy sigh. “The high unemployment rate caused by the sudden collapse of the gemstone mining industry for the locals thanks to my father is really not an easy problem to solve...”

“But the blow was mitigated a bit thanks to the rent cap law that Lord Miller had passed, right?” Stella noted, trying to point out the silver lining.

Francesca nodded, but winced, pressing her fingers against her aching temples again. Seeing her discomfort, Stella smiled sympathetically. She walked behind the heavy leather chair and began to gently massage Francesca's temples.

“Ah... thank you, Stella,” Francesca sighed, leaning back into the soothing touch. “Even if we controlled the immediate blow to their lifestyles, the fallout of an entire industry collapsing is inevitable. It is incredibly tough to suddenly conjure up new jobs for so many people who lost their livelihoods.”

“Hmm...” Stella listened diligently as she worked the tension out of Viscountess’ shoulders.

Francesca opened her eyes. “Stella, can you have Kenny fetch me a report on the current literacy rate of our citizens?” The massage paused. Stella nodded efficiently. “Right away, My Lady.”

As Stella left the office to track down Kenny, Francesca’s golden eyes fell back onto her personal checklist.

“Find a way to sell Moringa in the Winter...” Francesca read one of the bolded tasks out loud. “That’s right. Just successfully growing them isn't enough. They won’t sell in the North during the Winter Freeze because their low shelf life and sheer rarity make them an expensive luxury good...”

She reached out and picked up one of the fried fish snacks, chewing it slowly as she thought aloud. “If only we could export them directly to the Southern Regions! Oh, how I wish there was a way to teleport them instantly to the Capital!”

Dropping her head onto the desk with a defeated thud, she turned her cheek against the wood, staring blankly at the plate of fried fish.

If only regular commoners were able to afford them right here in the North... she thought miserably.

The snowy winds outside rattled the windowpanes once again, though this time the violent howling died out much faster than before, leaving a sudden, ringing silence in its wake.

Francesca abruptly sat bolt upright, her eyes wide as she exclaimed to the empty room, “That’s it! If I can’t sell them as luxury goods... then let's not sell them as luxury goods at all!”