“When will the King want to meet with me? Do you know? And do the rules of etiquette we went through last night apply?” I ask, more than a little fretful at the thought of all the socialising I’ll have to do. I feel like a fish out of water in this environment and I’d rather not be left to the sharks.

  “He will most likely invite you to take tila with him in the next few days. Don’t be overly concerned – I will ensure you are as prepared as I can make you for it. Ionith is remarkably reasonable for one in his position and he will be more interested in gauging your character than evaluating your manners. Though, of course, it would be better if you don’t actively insult him. Right now, the most important thing is to have you recognised as my heir. We might as well enter you as the competitor for House Titanbend while we’re at it. In fact, if you are amenable, we shall do both this afternoon – since my peers agreed, grudgingly as it might have been, to you being recognised as a full citizen of Moriax, there is no potential obstacle lying in our way.”

  “That wasn’t guaranteed?” I ask warily, then remind myself that I’m from another world – alien is the least of what I am. That this council seems to have decided that I actually count as human at all is an achievement – it’s unlikely that governments on Earth would be as amenable.

  “It wasn’t,” admits Nicholas, “though I had prepared several potential solutions to countering that particular move – had your origins been discovered partway into the competition, my enemies on the council might have tried to completely nullify any gains to Titanbend which you had attained for us by declaring you an invalid candidate for the competition. In fact,” Nicholas continues thoughtfully, “it might have done us a favour that your means of arrival in this world has come to light so soon. It has taken a weapon from our enemy’s hand – one which has not caused too much damage to our House in the removing.”

  “That’s good, I suppose,” I comment, finding it hard to really contribute when I don’t know the politics involved.

  “Indeed.” Nicholas is silent for a moment, staring thoughtfully into his pale brown cup of tila. I leave him be – I’ve got enough to think through myself.

  Part of that is the power that this ‘council’ apparently holds. I’d known that there was a possibility – remote as Nicholas thought it was – that opening the portal between my previous world and this one would have merited the death sentence, however execution is done here. But not being considered a Moriaxar citizen? Having my body and magic prodded and poked until their magical scientists know everything about me? The other Lords and Ladies not accepting me as the heir of House Titanbend? Those weren’t possibilities I really considered at all.

  I suppose I should have – again, governments on Earth are able to strip citizenship from people with sufficient cause, and arguably I’m actually a ‘naturalised’ citizen since I wasn’t born to Moriaxar citizens. Assuming that’s how it works here, anyway. And governments are entirely at liberty to decide whether or not to award citizenship to foreigners who apply for it. Perhaps my sense of disconnect comes from trying to associate Nicholas, the mostly-affable man who really needs my help, with a member of a six-person government.

  Either way, I rather feel that I’ve dodged a bullet here – and I’m even more glad that I decided to become Nicholas’ heir, regardless of the obligations I have taken on in doing so. After all, if the King was able to detect the portal opening without Nicholas telling him, he would have been able to do the same even if I’d decided to leave Nicholas’ estate that first night. And then there would have been no reason for Nicholas not to throw me and my Bound under the bus in return for receiving fewer sanctions for himself and his House.

  I do my best not to shudder at the thought of being under the ‘care’ of whatever passes for magical scientists in this world – sorcerers, if ‘Grand Sorcerer’ is anything to go by. Though arguably Nicholas got me into this situation, the results of this meeting have proven that it’s best I stay on his good side. Which means doing my best to be a decent heir for him. While I wait for the lord to come out of whatever thoughts he’s currently buried within, I review the etiquette I learned last night – considering how many lords, ladies, and kings I’m likely to meet in the near future, I’d better do my best to learn how not to offend them in the first ten seconds.

  I’m pulled out of my review when Nicholas sighs and leans forward in his chair, a roll of creamy-coloured paper – parchment? – appearing in his hand. Another object appears in his other hand – when he lowers it to the page, I recognise it as a pen. It looks rather like a fountain pen – an expensive one. The ink glistens as it’s left behind, confirming my assumptions. At least this world doesn’t still use quills, though I might miss biros. Still, I went through a period of using fountain pens, so at least I know that writing won’t be an issue.

  Since he’s writing in front of me, I have to guess that it’s something I’m allowed to read. The lack of reprimand when I turn my head to get a better view of the page is more evidence of that assumption.

  The text is written in rather formal language, but it’s still more down-to-the-point than I’d expect from something written from a noble to another noble. But as the text continues, it becomes clear that it’s not directed at another noble.

  “You want me to open a bank account?”

  “And to be added as my heir to the House accounts,” Nicholas agrees as he signs the page with a flourish.

  “Just to check, what do banks do here, exactly?” I check – banks offer different services even in the same country, let alone between different worlds.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “They are private organisations who hold the accumulated wealth of many clients in return for ensuring its security,” Nicholas explains.

  “Do they offer anything else? Banks where I’m from usually offer loans or mortgages, and they also generally offer accounts where people can earn interest – over time their accounts can increase incrementally just by leaving the money with the bank.”

  Nicholas hums with evident curiosity, capping his pen and returning it to his Inventory.

  “Our banks do not pay clients for storing their money – the reverse, in fact. However, it is possible to set aside a portion of one’s holdings for reinvestment into local businesses who come searching for patrons. I have a business manager in the headquarters in Azaarde who deals with that, and I meet with her every few months to ensure that she only invests in the businesses I approve of.”

  Interesting – so banks here also run the stock-market? And that’s the only way of growing money in a bank? I think about the gold that’s currently sitting in my Inventory – maybe I should investigate that option a bit more. Though, Nicholas mentioned the ‘headquarters’ in Azaarde – that must mean there are different branches. Does it matter which branch I visit? Can I only invest with the branch where my manager is? There might not be any internet, but we’ve just travelled a distance that would have taken us two weeks in a matter of seconds. That wouldn’t have been possible back on Earth; I wonder what other things are possible here that weren’t there.

  “Is there only one bank or is there a choice? And if there is a choice, would I need to open my account in the same bank as you use?” Banks back in the UK frequently made ‘new customer’ offers to attract people to them – and some of them were definitely worth having.

  “Theoretically, there is a choice, but in practicality, as part of our family, there isn’t,” Nicholas tells me confusingly, before continuing to explain. “There are four different banks, one for each of the territories which was in a position to fund one in the finite window of time when the royal line opened up the possibility.”

  “I take it that they weren’t keen on doing so,” I comment cautiously.

  “You are correct – it was a clever bit of politics by the Goldmine family, but in order to have enough clout to force the royal family to release the stranglehold on the finance market, they needed to enlist the support of other Great Houses. Torrent wasn’t financially capable of funding one at the time – something else they have never forgiven us for – and Forestheart’s funded bank has since been absorbed by Goldmine’s.” I remember that one of the people we met yesterday was Torrent – the very hostile one. His hostility makes me wonder whether ‘us’ refers to Titanbends specifically, rather than just the Great Houses in general.

  “So, four banks, and I guess you’re with the one originally funded by the Titanbend family,” I conclude. “Do you, like, own it?”

  “Yes, and no. We funded it, but other organisations have purchased interests in it since its original creation. It is not something we control, but we do still have a significant amount of influence, and considerable advantages – which is why it is the only bank our family will ever use. Fortunately, all four of the banks have branches in Crownseat, and all but one have a branch in the palace itself. Thus, you will not have to go far to deliver this document.” I guess that it makes sense why I’d be obliged to use this bank then – why use a bank which is benefiting a potential rival instead of ourselves? I hope I’m right in assuming that Titanbend gains financially out of becoming a shareholder, or patron, or whatever they call it here.

  “All the branches communicate with each other?” I check. “Magically or by post?”

  “Magically, of course,” Nicholas answers, almost sounding offended. “Fast communication is essential for a bank; all the patrons agreed on that expense. Our bank, Goldman’s, boasts the second fastest communication network of all the banks – changes to one’s account are registered throughout all the branches in flickers and we are able to withdraw our funds from any branch at any time.”

  Good to know. I wonder if there’s anything like a payment card here, but I suppose I could ask at the bank about that.

  “Sounds good,” I remark. Nicholas smiles thinly at that.

  “Indeed. Now, although I must accompany you to the lineage office – my presence as Lord of House Titanbend is indispensable there – I will have to leave you shortly after that. Given this morning’s events, I have much work to do.” His words are rather vague, but he hurries on before I can ask about it. “Sarran will take you to the bank and will then ensure that you correctly entered into the competition.” He taps the document. “This will give you the authorisation necessary to do what must be done there. At least, it will, once we have both put our imprints on.”

  “Imprints?” I ask curiously.

  “A physical manifestation of your magic,” he explains, though it doesn’t really clarify things much.

  “Alright, what do you need me to do?” I ask, deciding that it might be easier to understand afterwards.

  “Just touch the document here,” he points with his finger, “and imprint it with your mana. Imagine you’re about to cast some magic, but instead of actually casting it, press it into the parchment.” So it is parchment, not paper, then. The process sounds easy enough – I pull some mana up into my finger without transforming it into any elemental form, then press it into the parchment which sucks it up happily.

  When I remove my finger, there’s an oddly shimmering seal in gold filigree. The design isn’t anything I can make head nor tails of, but it looks kind of cool in my opinion.

  Nicholas looks at me a little oddly.

  “You found that easier than most, the first time they sign a document such as this,” he comments curiously. I just shrug – I’m getting the sense that I’m a bit of a freak here, but hopefully in the best of ways. Seeing that I’m not volunteering any information, he presses his finger to the space next to my seal. Spreading out from his finger, a new seal presses itself into place, the colour bronze to my golden and obviously different even at first glance. Is this like a fingerprint or something?

  Nicholas quickly rolls the parchment up with practised motions and hands it to me.

  “Keep that safe and hand it over only to the bank manager when you arrive at the branch.”

  “I will,” I promise.

  “Now, are you ready to go?”

  I glance down at Bastet briefly.

  Some of the others will want to come with us, she points out. I agree with her, and, honestly, wouldn’t mind having the backup, if only emotionally-speaking.

  “Let me just collect my Bound and I’ll be right with you,” I tell Nicholas firmly.

  here!

  here!

  here!

  here