A luxurious blue carriage adorned with flags at all the corners of the roof was moving on a familiarly styled dirt road, the insignias on the prismarine fabric of those identificators glistening in the sunlight, as the gold and silver thread of the animal on the coat of arms — a wyvern with a crown atop its head — rolled in different shades of white as the light permeated through the metallic shine. The carriage was accompanied by a whole platoon of around thirty fully armoured knights on stallions, which were just as clad in steel as the knights themselves were; the white armour of the Church's order did not fall short of the blinding visage of the carriage that they escorted. At the back, a few meters behind the forward moving carriage was another one, but a less extravagant, yet bigger carriage. It was more grim and straightforward in the design, only brandishing the coat of arms of the house it belonged to.

The background was an endless expanse of fields, though these ones were worked soil, the yellow grass exchanged for massive spreads of wheat. The convoy even passed a couple curious people who were covered in sweat, staring at the expansive transport with tools in hand as they waited for the carriage to pass, so that they could cross the road to the other side, where it looked like the harvest of produce was happening. 

Inside, however, it was rather cool and dim, the blazing sun blocked by the thick curtains which were pulled together almost completely. The four passengers were all known to each other: her Excellency Marpha Yeterikon, with the usual smile, dressed in her garments consisting of multiple layers of cloaks, young master of the Raressank Ducal family Alladen Raressank, dressed in a more attractive and flared black suit than compared to the one he had been dressed into while he was on duty in Kolanaren, Marriott, the trainee priest under Marpha, adorned in the modest black and white clerical attire that only had mild amounts of gold lining, and finally — the cheerful Countess Faleya Usurbruk with her long, straight silver hair, smug expression, which even looked a bit cocky, round glasses which covered her murkish grey eyes, the thread at the temples of the glasses, weaving back around her neck, drooping all the way below her jaw. Starting from the feet, she wore white leather boots, those were laced tightly — a light blue dress that snagged at the waist, with the sleeves hanging freely at the wrists, the frills the same as the ones at the hem of the skirt of her dress, the surface encrusted by gold patterns near the ends of her limbs and around the frilled collar.

One of the people pulled away one of the curtains, trying to do it as quietly as he could. "This country is quite vast." Marriott had spoken, staring out of the window with tired eyes, whilst his head was supported by the glass, "We've been riding without halting for more than a couple hours for the last five days." He bemoaned, covering his mouth with a hand and trying to resist the urge to yawn, failing in the process. The Countess did not express the same demeanour as the young man, however, "It is a continent, and as far as intelligence goes, we couldn't get a full map of the place — only the ones that include this kingdom at the center." The glassed woman said with some glee, rolling a ring with a dark gem in-between her fingers, looking at it intently. The other figure of stature looked up at the boy, "Indeed, I was as surprised as you are now, when the reconnaissance group of the Church order returned with such disheartening material I couldn’t help but shake my head, Marriott." Marpha chimed in, recalling the time when her people came back with similarly disappointing results from their mission on the continent. The Duchess looked down at her knees as she spoke; both women sat beside one another, opposite of Alladen and Marriott, their legs crossed in different directions, but away from their neighbour. 

Cutting through the initial conversation, the Duke’s son also had a reminder to make. "Alistet should be close enough by now, I believe." Alladen voiced, the expression on his face staying neutral, like the rather relaxed atmosphere of the carriage. Though, his black hair was braided now, the work of someone with curious hands that resided by them in this confined space.

"Alis~tet?" Faleya rolled the name of the city on her tongue, scoffing and pursing her lips, discontent with how it was called, and such her expression showed it in a manner of a smirk. "There's no ring to it, how boring." Marpha glanced at the revolting woman, as if it wasn’t the first time she had spoken in such a manner in regards to other settlements, "I reckon that you prefer the sound of your own capital." The Countess chuckled and tilted her head outwards from Marpha, gazing at her from under the smug brows, "But of course, Erteri has pang, tang, ring, ping, and even a bit of ting to it, Alistet is practically flaccid!" She said, tossing the ring with the dark gem to the Divine Duchess, who caught it rather effortlessly, stowing it away in one of the pockets on the inside of her long white robe, “Like my fabulous name, my cities draw the very same amount of appreciation and favour from the people.” The Duchess did not give much of an engaging reply to these boastful exclamations, "You have a unique way with words." She said and returned to savouring the views of the crop fields. "The Countess had infamy for her manner of speech even before she took power." The young master said in good faith, as he leaned towards the idea of ending this escalation with light-hearted humour, but Faleya gave him a mean side eye, "You were just a brat at that time, you've got no right to judge, Alladen." 

"See?” The Duchess spoke, but her face had the very same smile as before, “You go as far as to talk to the son of a Duke casually." That was stated, to Faleya's increased discomfort, so a retort was due, "Says the Head Apostle Chief Priest Divine Duchess Marpha Yeterikon, astral power forbid you from getting any more fancy words stuck to your name... I remember that you proposed this system of titles yourself — It’s frankly garbage. And weren’t you the one who said that it’s purely for show?" They kept eyeing one another from the sides, but Marpha remained unswayed, "I see you still have a good memory." The Countess let out a brief giggle at her words, eccentrically waving her left hand around, "You're the one to speak, hag. I don't care if you're a Luran, sixty three is grandma's age!" 

Instigation continued, but the smooth skin of Marpha's face was yet to wrinkle, not from age, but from emotion. Without looking an eye in the Countess’s direction, Head Apostle Chief Priest continued speaking without a speck of malice, "Fair, for you it would be — a Syph should age far more starkly than a Luran, aren't you twenty nine?” Faleya felt a grudge that she knew what the Duchess would say next, “Give or take ten or fifteen years and you'll look like a human alright, your hair already fits the colour palette." The glasses slid down her nose and stuck at the tip, she let out a long huff and crossed her arms. "You and your racial supremacy...” Faleya clicked her, making sure that everyone in the carriage heard her clearly: “Grow some modesty on those old bones of yours and maybe I'll give you a discount the next time you come to shop in my territory." Her Excellency instantly came to choose the words to poke at the Countess, "My wallet can bear to support the ones in need." It made the other woman tense instantly, going as far as letting a twitch drive the compulsion to shout,  "Don't you call me poor, snake!" 

Although the Duchess was met with a severe case of anger on part of the Countess, her tone kept level, making it feel like a one-sided quarrel. "Now, now, let us not derive insults in a civil discussion." This sort of reply had always dismayed Faleya... She could never win against the witty hag, and an argument was due to erupt each time they met anyway, a perpetual engine of meet and hate. "Guh...!" She recoiled just as eccentrically as she waved her hand, "Sure."

"But aging is not really a problem, is it?" Alladen said, prompting Faleya to give him a sarcastic look, "Hah, a spurt of two dragons decided to speak of getting old? Well, I hope you've inherited your father's features and end up looking like an old coot for the rest of your life." The young master gave her an awkward chuckle, and Marriott tried to remain still while the long-living kept going with the jabs at each other's races. Faced with the backlash, Alladen retreated with the safe option —  "Let's drop this topic..." The horned young man tried to use this as a means to unwind the tensions, slowly, "Yeah, of course, let's do exactly that!" Faleya exorbitantly exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Well, then, what's on your mind?" 

The air did ease; everyone returned to a more formal demeanour, and Alladen cleared his throat. "Countess Usurbruk, since you're leading one of the most prominent merchant nets of Ranesairan, I was intending to ask you about the prospects of our economy for the near future." And indeed it was a relevant topic, such that she looked down, sighing, "Not good, the essentials won't get more expensive, that’s a guarantee. But things like seafood, magical items, sophisticated mechanical tools, and all the materials and supplies from the other islands will blow the skies with their prices soon enough." 

The Countess tapped her finger against the door of the carriage, "It won't be longer than a month, I already poured all of my resources to keep the market at a standstill for the time being, but funneling excess funds will not be feasible because I'll run out of the excess!” Of all of Faleya’s previous statements, the words of her losing profits and money seemed to force the most anger out of the Countess. But after a brief emotional outburst, she recollected swiftly and carried on explaining: “So, expect a decrease in magical practice among middle and lower classes until domestic production catches up to the level of old imports." Alladen nodded, throwing one of his legs over the other, the sole of his shoe almost grazing Marriott's pants at the knee, "Thought as much..." He looked Faleya directly in the eyes, intending to add something, "Nobles will only get adjusted pricing from our estimates, don't think of hogging the market before I drop the curtain." Before he could even muster a word, Faleya cut off the suggestion at the base. "Fair enough... Will the additional fees go to fund the curtain, then?" 

Faleya moved her glasses back to her eyes, "More or less, the better part of the revenue will go to the emergency fund of the Countdom.” Faleya pointed at Alladen, ”Unlike your territory, I rely heavily on sales of magical tools: my economy will likely crash without some sort of cushioning. I'm allocating new funds to the manufacturing sector, hopefully I'll manage a nice stream of needed common products to satiate the demand and plug the holes in the budget.” Crossing her hands again, Faleya seemed burdened regardless of how confident her plans sound, “I'll transition the Usurbruk name from being a cheap seller of magical tools into a cheap manufacturer of everything." Out of all of them in the carriage, the Countess really did have the most on her plate. Alladen hummed in agreement, shifting his eyes, searching around the ceiling to find what to say. "That's a sound strategy, will you need any outside help?" The silver-haired woman scoffed and shook her head, "Certainly, but it'll be a concern for when this diplomatic expedition is over."