Vol. 1 Chapter 9: Onboarding

Three hours later, the divine purpose of the Crown Covenant had been distributed across nine serving trays.

Four contained proposed duties. Two contained restrictions. One held the public account Aurelia would eventually be required to present before the imperial council, the Church, and everyone else who would demand an explanation.

Another had become an increasingly hostile argument over compensation.

The chamber no longer resembled a royal reception room. Candles had been replaced twice, the fire had been rebuilt once, and empty pitchers had accumulated beside the wall. Jackets rested over chair backs. Lara’s folios had been divided into several piles and then partially buried beneath wooden boards covered in charcoal.

Varris had abandoned his place beside Aurelia nearly an hour earlier and now stood over the table as though the serving trays were military maps.

Lara had stopped objecting every time someone used words like stakeholder, liability, jurisdiction, or deliverable.

Serina had somehow accumulated four pieces of charcoal and two ink-stained fingers.

The five foreigners, meanwhile, had become more comfortable.

Aurelia had discovered that this only made them worse.

Alexander sat near the center of the table, surrounded by boards and loose papers. He had assumed control of the meeting so gradually that Aurelia could not identify when it had happened.

Robert continued writing things in the margins whenever Alexander stopped watching him.

Nicole intervened whenever a proposal carried any possibility of injury, poisoning, infection, exhaustion, starvation, magical contamination, or death, which meant she intervened often.

Elizabeth had stopped caring about the political discussion somewhere between the third definition of jurisdiction and Robert’s proposed structure of hazard compensation. She had turned her chair to face Serina and was quietly asking questions about magical education.

Kevin remained near the fire, detached from most of it despite the fact that one of the trays described how he would disappear into an abandoned Crown mining settlement before the Church could determine what his mark meant.

Aurelia read the latest version of the public account again.

Five foreign Witnesses had appeared during the reactivation of the Crown Covenant. They claimed no prophetic authority, noble rank, military command, or automatic right to command the Crown. They would observe, offer judgment where appropriate, and provide advice in matters related to their knowledge and divine domains.

Four would remain temporarily under Aurelia’s protection.

The fifth would conduct an independent investigation into the Covenant, his unclassified mark, and the circumstances of their arrival.

Robert finished reading and leaned back.

“So basically, we’re going to be foreign consultants who arrived to witness, judge, and, where applicable, guide Princess Aurelia’s… government policies.”

Aurelia had already spent too much time arguing about terminology.

“In simple terms, yes.”

Robert looked at Alexander.

“Can we bill her hourly for this?”

“No,” Aurelia said.

Alexander did not raise his head. “We do not understand the currency well enough to establish an hourly rate.”

Robert pointed at him. “That is not a no.”

“You are not billing me by the hour,” Aurelia said.

“What about per engagement?”

“No.”

“Retainer?”

“No.”

“Outcome-based compensation?”

“No.”

Nicole sighed. “Please ignore him.”

Aurelia had attempted to do that several times already.

Alexander drew a line beneath the public account. “Fine. External explanation settled. We need public responsibilities for the four recognized domains. If the council asks why four divine-marked foreigners are remaining under Aurelia’s protection, she needs something better than ‘political containment.’”

Aurelia nodded. “Correct.”

Alexander pulled the first tray closer.

LIGHT

Most of the argument had already happened. Lara insisted that Light traditionally represented righteous authority, leadership, justice, and protection. Alexander had spent nearly half an hour making it equally clear that he had no intention of becoming a divinely appointed judge, military commander, or claimant to political authority merely because something had placed a glowing symbol on his body.

The compromise now written on the tray was considerably less dramatic.

Governance.
Administration.
Negotiation.
Trade.
Public accountability.
Mediation.

Robert had added marketing, public relations, and brand strategy beneath the list.

Alexander had crossed out all three.

Robert had written branding back in twice.

Aurelia chose not to ask whether it was still there.

“I advise,” Alexander said. “I do not rule, command troops, judge criminal cases, or claim divine authority.”

Lara clearly disliked reducing the traditional bearer of Light to an advisory position, but she had stopped arguing about it.

Aurelia considered the list. “That will be sufficient publicly.”

Alexander glanced at Kevin, and Aurelia immediately caught the silent understanding that passed between them. She had no idea what conclusion they had reached about her position, but she already disliked it.

She moved to the next tray.

LIFE

Nicole’s restrictions occupied almost as much space as her proposed responsibilities.

Medicine.
Sanitation.
Disease prevention.
Emergency care.
Food safety.
Public health.

Beneath all of it Nicole had written:

CONSULTATION ONLY UNTIL LOCAL MEDICAL SYSTEM IS REVIEWED

Lara still seemed unable to accept that someone carrying the mark of Life could be so reluctant to use it.

“You possess a divine domain associated with healing.”

“I also have no idea what it does,” Nicole replied. “I’m a physician. That does not mean I understand your diseases, your anatomy, your medicines, your healing magic, or whatever magical effects your bodies have that ours don’t.”

“The mark may grant knowledge.”

“It may. I’m not testing that assumption on a patient.”

That had ended most of the argument.

Nicole tapped the list. “I can advise on sanitation, infection control, emergency care, food safety, and medical systems. I can observe your healers. Nobody assumes I can cure something because my arm glows green.”

Aurelia found that difficult to disagree with.

“Reasonable.”

Nicole immediately pointed at Kevin’s tray.

“And his assignment still includes food, clean water, medical supplies, regular contact, and a return condition.”

Alexander had already written:

RETURN - MANDATORY OBJECTIVE

Kevin read it again. “That is not the same as a guaranteed outcome.”

Nicole crossed her arms. “Try harder.”

Aurelia moved on before they could restart that argument.

MAGIC

Elizabeth had contributed very little to the list because she had spent most of the discussion interrogating Serina instead.

Research.
Artifacts.
Infrastructure.
Engineering.
Energy.
Manufacturing.
Applied magical theory.

The conversation beside Aurelia had already moved well beyond the tray.

“So you have standardized measurements for mana?” Elizabeth asked.

“Several,” Serina said.

“Several standards?”

“Yes.”

“Are they all compatible?”

Serina hesitated.

Elizabeth smiled.

Aurelia had begun recognizing that expression and did not like what usually followed it.

Alexander tapped the tray. “Your public responsibilities are magical research, technical development, infrastructure, and artifact review. Subject to supervision until you understand basic magical safety.”

Elizabeth finally paid attention.

“Fine.”

Alexander added another line.

FOUNDATIONAL SUPERVISION - SERINA

Serina stared at it.

“I did not agree to that.”

Elizabeth smiled at her.

Serina turned to Aurelia as though expecting rescue.

Aurelia had none to offer.

“For foundational instruction only.”

Serina sighed.

“Understood, Your Highness.”

The final recognized mark belonged to Robert.

WAR

He had objected almost continuously since the word appeared.

“I am still an accountant.”

Varris remained unmoved. “Armies require accounting.”

“That does not make me a military officer.”

“No one has said it does.”

Robert pointed at the tray.

Military logistics.
Procurement.
Contracts.
Supply management.
Fortifications.

Varris studied him. “Do you understand procurement?”

“Yes.”

“Fraud?”

“Yes.”

“Contracts?”

“Yes.”

“Supply chains?”

“Yes.”

“Budgeting?”

“Yes.”

“Then you possess skills relevant to military logistics.”

Robert stared at him.

“You took accounting and turned it into war.”

“War has always required accounting.”

Aurelia thought that was probably the first thing anyone had said about the War domain tonight that Robert found genuinely disturbing.

He pointed at Alexander.

“No direct combat.”

“Agreed.”

“No command.”

“Agreed.”

“No ceremonial duels.”

Alexander paused. “Nobody proposed ceremonial duels.”

“I am preventing future duels.”

Varris looked faintly disappointed.

Alexander wrote:

NO COMBAT DUTIES WITHOUT CONSENT

Robert read the line, nodded once, and then pointed at another tray.

“Good. Now payment.”

Aurelia leaned back.

“We already discussed support.”

“We discussed housing.”

Lara looked offended on Aurelia’s behalf

“You already negotiated food, clothing, protection, instruction, archive access, and a weekly allowance.”

“Those are operating expenses.”

“They are benefits.”

“They are the minimum requirements to prevent your divine consultants from becoming homeless.”

“You appeared in my sanctum without invitation.”

“Involuntary recruitment remains recruitment.”

“I did not recruit you.”

“You publicly assigned us a role.”

“To prevent you from being stabbed.”

“The motivation does not remove the financial consequences.”

Lara looked increasingly annoyed. “You are attempting to invoice an Imperial Princess of Veyr for divine intervention.”

“I am reserving the right to establish damages.”

Aurelia regretted asking the next question before the words had fully left her mouth.

“What damages?”

Robert immediately began counting on his fingers.

“Lost employment. Lost income. Loss of access to property. Interrupted careers. Existing contractual obligations. Involuntary relocation. Hazard exposure. Religious persecution. Reputational damage. Loss of legal identity. Potential death declaration in our world.”

Kevin glanced at him. “That last one remains speculative.”

“All future damages are speculative until realized.”

“You are billing another world.”

“I am documenting potential liability.”

Nicole rubbed her forehead. “Please ignore the dramatic parts.”

“The economic parts remain.”

Alexander sighed. “He is correct that we need independent resources.”

Aurelia looked between them.

“You will each receive twenty silver crowns per week while under my protection.”

Robert turned immediately to Lara.

“What can five silver crowns buy?”

“A skilled palace retainer may earn that in a week.”

“Food and housing excluded?”

“Yes.”

“Basic clothing?”

“Provided.”

“Expenses incurred while performing these advisory duties?”

“Paid separately.”

“Equipment replacement?”

Aurelia hesitated. “If reasonable.”

Robert nodded.

“Hazard pay?”

Aurelia stared at him.

“For what hazard?”

Robert pointed at Kevin’s tray.

“He is being hidden at an abandoned mine.”

“Kevin may require mission funding.”

Robert moved his finger to WAR.

“I have military obligations written under my divine mark.”

“Advisory military obligations.”

“Proximity risk.”

Aurelia looked at Alexander.

“Does he stop?”

“No.”

Robert continued as though the exchange had settled something important.

“We need an interim compensation structure subject to review once we understand purchasing power, role expectations, and actual risk.”

Aurelia finally relented for the sake of ending the argument.

“Interim.”

“Yes.”

“Subject to review.”

“Yes.”

“No guaranteed increase.”

“Review implies possible adjustment.”

“It guarantees nothing.”

Robert paused.

“That’s acceptable.”

Aurelia blinked.

That had been easier than expected.

Robert picked up the charcoal and wrote:

INTERIM COMPENSATION - SUBJECT TO REVIEW

Beneath it:

Living allowance
Reasonable mission expenses
Equipment replacement
Hazard compensation where applicable
No permanent employment relationship established

Aurelia read the final line twice.

“You added that.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To prevent implied service obligations.”

“You have spent three hours negotiating service obligations.”

“Temporary consultation.”

Lara looked exhausted.

“I no longer know which part of this is supposed to be theology.”

Robert smiled.

“The billable part.”

Alexander pulled the tray away from him.

“We are finished with compensation for tonight.”

“We are not.”

“We are.”

“Add a review date.”

Alexander stared at him, then wrote:

REVIEW AFTER INITIAL COUNCIL AND CHURCH HEARING

Robert nodded.

“Acceptable.”

Aurelia had begun to understand that Robert considered any unresolved matter an invitation to continue negotiating until everyone else surrendered.

Alexander gathered the trays into a rough line.

“Final responsibilities.”

Kevin looked at him. “You mean ownership.”

“I deliberately changed the word.”

“Good.”

Alexander went down the list quickly.

Aurelia would handle the public account and council presentation. Lara would continue reviewing religious precedent. Varris would handle security and routes. Serina would cover wards, magical systems, and Elizabeth’s foundational instruction. Nicole would define medical requirements. Elizabeth would handle equipment and technical matters. Robert would review contracts and compensation, subject to everyone else preventing him from becoming creative.

Robert objected to the last condition.

Nobody cared.

Then Alexander reached himself.

“Coordination and consolidated planning: Alexander.”

Kevin turned his head.

“You appointed yourself project manager.”

“Yes.”

“On whose authority?”

Alexander looked at Aurelia.

She understood immediately what he was doing.

Unfortunately, she also understood that someone had to organize the pile of work now covering her table.

“Mine.”

Alexander wrote:

SPONSOR - PRINCESS AURELIA

Robert covered his mouth.

Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile.

Kevin stared at Aurelia.

“You have no idea what that means.”

“No,” Aurelia said. “But it appears to inconvenience you.”

“It does.”

“Then I approve.”

Lara slowly turned her head.

“Your Highness.”

Aurelia ignored her.

Alexander moved to Kevin’s tray.

“Independent investigation.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “That is better than offboarding.”

“Barely.”

Alexander wrote beneath it:

Stay Alive
Disappear from Public View
Avoid Recognition
Maintain Communication
Do Not Enter the Mine
Return when safe

Kevin stared at the fifth line.

“That was already established.”

“And now it is written again.”

“It was already established.”

Alec looked at him.

“And now it is assigned.”

Liza leaned toward Serina.

“The edgy MC-sama has been assigned a quest.”

Kevin looked at her.

“My quest is staying in a shack.”

“At an abandoned mine with a dungeon underneath.”

Kevin looked toward Alexander.

“Can I assign her a ticket?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m the project manager.”

“You promoted yourself.”

“Exactly.”

Alexander put the charcoal down before the argument could grow.

Aurelia studied the trays.

The four recognized divine domains had been turned into advisory responsibilities. The fifth had become a controlled disappearance disguised as an independent inquiry. What had begun as a sentence Aurelia invented in front of frightened witnesses now had duties, restrictions, compensation, reporting lines, and an argument over whether Robert was entitled to hazard pay.

It should have felt more organized.

Instead, Aurelia was beginning to understand exactly how much she had committed herself to.

Robert had gone back to arguing with Lara about whether divine titles created implied obligations. Alexander was reorganizing the completed trays. Nicole was adding another medical requirement to Kevin’s plan. Elizabeth had resumed asking Serina questions about magical storage.

Kevin had stopped participating.

Aurelia noticed after several seconds that he was watching her.

“What?”

“You’re risking quite a lot from this arrangement.”

Aurelia held his gaze.

“What if I am?”

Kevin was quiet for a moment.

“You could have ended most of this hours ago.”

“By doing what?”

“Handing me to the Church.”

Nicole immediately raised her head.

Kevin continued before she could interrupt.

“Or separating me from the others. Keep the four marks you recognize and treat mine as a separate problem.”

Aurelia rested one arm against her chair.

“And you believe that would have ended the problem?”

“It would have reduced your involvement in it.”

Kevin glanced at the trays.

“You are publicly attaching yourself to four divine-marked foreigners, concealing the fifth, misleading the Church, and trusting five people you met tonight to maintain the same account. If this fails, most of the political damage lands on you.”

Robert raised one finger.

“When you list it like that...”

Nicole pushed his hand back down.

Aurelia ignored them.

“You believe I have not noticed?”

“I think you noticed.”

“Then what exactly are you asking?”

Kevin paused before answering.

“Why accept it?”

Aurelia considered him for a moment.

Aurelia did not reply immediately.

For most of the night, she had been answering questions before she had enough time to properly think about them. The Crown Covenant itself had begun that way. Five strangers had appeared inside her sanctum in front of armed witnesses, each carrying divine marks that should not have been there, and Aurelia had needed an explanation before fear produced something irreversible. Everything after that had grown from the first decision.

She looked at Kevin for several seconds, then let her attention move around the table.

Alexander sat among serving trays covered in responsibilities he had somehow organized into something resembling an actual arrangement. Robert had negotiated compensation with the persistence of a merchant and the vocabulary of a lawyer. Nicole had spent more effort limiting what people might expect from her mark than claiming anything from it. Elizabeth had accepted restrictions on experimenting with magic she had only discovered existed that night. Serina was still sitting among them with charcoal on her fingers, apparently wondering how her evening had become this.

Varris and Lara had objected whenever something became unreasonable.

That was the strange part.

Very little had.

The five had argued over almost everything, but they had not demanded estates, titles, soldiers, wealth, or authority. They wanted defined responsibilities, the right to refuse duties they had never agreed to, compensation if they were expected to work, medical caution, privacy, and some assurance that cooperation with Aurelia would not quietly become permanent service to the Crown.

Aurelia had found remarkably few good reasons to refuse them.

She suspected they were improvising almost as much as she was.

They understood neither her laws nor her institutions. She understood very little about theirs. Half the terms covering the serving trays had required explanations before anyone local could even argue about them. Yet somehow, after several hours of disagreement, they had produced something that everyone in the room could at least live with.

Then there was everything else.

Aurelia glanced at the equipment gathered around the chamber. The strange devices that produced light without flame. The small machines that stored images and writing. The sealed power source Elizabeth had explained only well enough for Aurelia to understand that it was not magic. Kevin’s weapon. Nicole’s medical knowledge. Whatever experience had taught Alexander to turn a political disaster into lists, conditions, and responsibilities while Robert argued over liability.

If their account was true, they had brought pieces of another world into her estate.

If only half of what they claimed about that world was true, then ignoring what they knew simply because the situation frightened her would be foolish.

Aurelia recognized an opportunity when she saw one.

The five were frightened, displaced, and dependent on people they had met only hours ago. They were also useful, perhaps extraordinarily so, and pretending otherwise would have been just as dishonest as pretending Aurelia had no interest in what they could offer.

Nearly a minute had passed before she looked back at Kevin.

“Because every alternative you have given me is worse,” she told him.

“That simple?”

“No.”

She settled farther into her chair.

“You appeared in my sanctum in front of witnesses. I gave everyone an explanation because I needed one immediately. Since then, the five of you have made that explanation considerably more complicated, but abandoning it now does not return us to the moment before you arrived.”

Kevin said nothing.

“If I surrender you to the Church, I lose the cooperation of the other four and demonstrate that my protection lasts only until it becomes inconvenient. If I separate you by force, I achieve much the same result more slowly. If I deny what happened in the sanctum, I undermine my own authority and invite everyone else to decide what all five of you are before any of us understand it ourselves.”

Aurelia glanced at the trays.

“So yes. I am risking quite a lot.”

Kevin remained quiet.

“You still do not know if any of us are worth the risk,” he said.

“No.”

Something changed in his expression, although Aurelia could not tell what.

She continued.

“And none of you know whether trusting me is worth yours. That appears to be the arrangement we have.”

The room had become quieter around them. Even Robert had stopped writing.

Aurelia rested her hands on the arms of her chair.

“So for the moment, Mercer, I suggest we continue making questionable decisions together until someone finds a better one.”

Kevin considered that.

Then he nodded.

Aurelia narrowed her eyes.

“Do not nod at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I passed some private examination.”

“I was not testing you.”

Nicole spoke before Aurelia could.

“You absolutely were.”

“I was evaluating risk.”

Kevin glanced around the table, realized nobody intended to support him, and gave up.

“Fine. I was a little.”

For a moment, silence once again settled in the room

Then Robert broke it before anyone else could decide what to do with Kevin’s probing.

“Anyway,” he said, drawing the word out as though the last several minutes had been a minor scheduling inconvenience, “I believe this meeting now requires a quick recess.”