In the end, I didn't end up needing to do as much in Grenwille as I anticipated. Lemand really pulled the weight there. Admittedly, it IS his mother, so there's no wonder he would want to be on this front and center. And since the heavy treatment was done, all that really remained was Lemand periodically administering my makeshift antibiotic mix. I've enchanted a panel for him with the mycobacteria scanner, so that he could monitor his mother without me poking in and went out and about with Moon Unit, doing the tourist bit... and showing the flag to Grenwille farmers, as it were. It's surprising how much of a turnaround it really was for them, after Konistan's shitshow. The first appearance I made here? Sullen faces all around. They switched up to considerate expressions after I explained that my politics are going to be different from Konistan's. Right now? Smiles all around. I am also glad to notice my agents in the trading house itself were not sitting idle, there are tar roads in the city already. Not all of it, just the major lines and the big roads, but I do see the lesser roads being worked on, as we pass by.
Out of curiosity, I stop by with burgmeister. He is... effulgent with the praise. According to him, after seeing the major roads being retrofitted on king's and marquis' coin, he had managed to persuade the merchant guild to invest further into the paving of the marketplace. Some of the wealthier local citizens had commissioned the roads they lived on to be paved too, and now that everyone is sure both in the quality of road and the affordability of it, the burg itself had agreed to funnel a part of the maintenance budget to have everything left to be repaved completely. Then, he floors me by asking if I would consent to opening a branch of the baking shop here. Apparently, my shop in the capital is making waves and somehow he heard that I agreed to try for a branch bakery in Haver, so now he wants in on that. And not just him, I'm introduced to three breadmakers in the city who all express interest in joining my shop, if I want to open one here. Apparently, they believe that working under the aegis of a noble-endorsed corporation is going to be more profitable for them than being independent businessmen... Moon Unit is smirking at me throughout the whole exchange, too. As she put it, "everyone wants in on your business, dear". In the end, we shake on the same deal as with Faria - they will tally up the available plots and buildings that I might buy out, and send apprentices to the capital to bone up on baking pastries. I tried to simply offer licenses for bakers to make pastries, but apparently they still want my shop. I don't get why, the town is firmly under the aegis of marquis Sadoux, one would think they don't need to fear the deprivations of lesser nobles because of that. I need to get marquis to weigh in on this.
...Of fucking course. It's sugar. They're not confident they can source the sugar at passable prices even with marquis pitching his name. So at the second meeting, with marquis himself present, we hammer out the final agreement - the same deal as before, essentially, except I cut in marquis on a part of profits in exchange for him handling the logistics and lending his name to the enterprise. As in, "Sweet Dream branch shop, endorsed by personal patronage of marquis Sadoux". All in all, the things in Grenwille are proceeding apace, with Marisa steadily losing mycobacteria. I estimate that it will take about five days overall. Magic's really helpful here, because after a bit of brainstorming session with Moon Unit and Lemand, we figure out how to bamf up the efficiency of antibiotic by slapping on it a sort of guidance that makes it explicitly seek mycobacteria in exclusion of everything else. Still can't narrow it down to one megadose, because even with seeking, it does not really notice the helpful cells and microorganisms it washes over on the way to bacteria, but limited targeting is way better than just winning by saturation. Less taxing on the body, too.
___
Back in Parsee, I solicit the presence of sir Malachi for the interrogation. I wanted Mihel too, but he demurred from being present, citing that Merchant Guild's involvement had been cut with the dismissal of the scribe, as it does not seem that madame Konistan bothered to create a separate registry entrance for herself to begin with, meaning he has neither questions nor interest in seeing what am I going to do with an impostor. Oh well. I might get a little rough with the impostor, I'm extremely peeved off at the angle of attack. Making people believe I married Konistan? Yeah, well. Some, ahem... enhanced interrogation might be in order.
"...I am rather... befuddled, lady Gillespie." - Malachi rasps as we enter the mansion - "This scheme, well... It's stitched together with wet grass. What exactly was the expectation? That you would not notice your holdings being supplanted?"
"Simpler then that." - I reply - "Given what I already know, the scheme was to ride on Konistan's name, as it is common knowledge I got the majority of trade infrastructure from him, and quickly draft a couple of selling contracts to the nobles that are gullible enough to buy it and do not count me among friends. Like marquis de Brege. He still holds a grudge from that time when his son was caught trying to create an incident with my airship and wholeheartedly believed the story that the Sweet Dream shop is actually owned by madame Konistan and I just bluffed him."
"Wait. Wait a moment. How's the bakery connected to the airship, lady Gillespie?" - he inquires.
"Ah. Right. My apologies, you weren't present for that." - I backtrack - "Basically, Julien de Brege was promised a sweetroll from Sweet Dream by Ambercrombe Junior if he manages to get my airship to land on him."
Malachi facepalms wordlessly.
"Indeed. Now, Julien was both foolish enough to believe that he would survive the weight of over six quintals dropping on him from above and foolhardy enough to withhold the name of the person who asked him to do it when asked directly by his majesty." - I continue, making Malachi wince - "I've remarked that Sweet Dream happens to be my shop, and that I just might ban de Breges from buying pastries for life if he continues to be stubborn."
"You know... his highness did express an intent to demote de Brege to viscount in the morning, but I do believe it might be more prudent to just strip them of nobility altogether." - Malachi muses slowly - "To preserve the rest of court from having this kind of stupidity spread among them, if nothing else."
We enter the room that I have selected to be used for interrogation. A pair of chairs for us, a table with writing utensils and plenty of paper, a pair of stools and a bucket of water. Nabad. I test the water lightly, confirming it's cool, but not chilly.
"What's that for, lady Gillespie?" - Malachi asks curiously.
"Enhanced interrogation, of course." - I tell him - "Do you honestly think someone so stupid will tell us anything worthwhile without some effort to extract the information?"
Manservants bring in the aforementioned madame Konistan. Well, drag in, really, because she's doing her level best not to comply. Silly, really, given that her hands are bound behind her back and she has hobbles on.
"Let me go, you pissants! You will be whipped to death for mistreating me, do you hear?" - she shouts at them for I dunno which time. They deposit her on the stool and bow to me.
"Per your orders, lady Gillespie. She was not given anything to eat since last midday." - they report and depart towards the doors.
Malachi follows them with his eyes, remarking - "They're not staying?"
"Goodness, no. Why?" - I shrug - "I'll handle everything from up here, though... If I might prevail upon you to keep notes, sir Malachi?"
He grumbles goodnaturedly, but sits down in the chair and pulls up the inkwell closer, disregarding another shrill diatribe from madame Konistan on the dire fates that await us all for daring to get handsy with her persona.
"Very well. Let us get acquainted." - I murr, facing the target of my ire - "My name is Alyssa Gillespie, and you tried to steal from me. This is Grand Inquisitor, sir Malachi, and he will be hearing your testimony along with me as a witness and royal persecutor. Now, whom do you work for?"
She draws another lungful for more shriek, which I cut short with a quick jab to the solar plexus. She squawks, doubling over, conveniently presenting her hair to me. Which I grab with my hand and drag her up to full height, before plunging her head into the bucket. One, two, three... thirty! I pull her out and toss her back on the stool, panting and shivering.
"Who do you work for?" - I ask again. Just as she opens her mouth, I repeat the jab to the solar plexus, followed by dunking in the bucket. After the third round, Malachi coughs.
"As amusing as it might be for you, lady Gillespie, you might want to give her a moment to actually speak." - he proffers reasonably.
I shrug, letting her pant on the stool for a moment. "She's far too stupid to grasp the situation she's in, sir Malachi." - I object - "I need to establish my credentials as a merciless monster before she truly grasps the idea that talking truthfully might be her only chance to survive."
"Sir Malachi, pleAAAAhse save mglub-glub-glub-glub!" - she contributes to the conversation, as I dunk her for the fourth time. Malachi winces.
"Just so you know, I have no legal basis to intervene right now." - he proffers as I let her out again - "Unless you can offer some connection to another noble that might vouch for you, lady Gillespie is entirely within her rights to drown you right here and now. You did attempt to defraud her of a holding, after all."
"So? Who are you working for?" - I rephrase slightly, as I drag her up by the hair to dunk for the fifth time.
"Aaah oh gods you're glub-glub-glub-glub!" - is her eloquent reply.
"Really? Gods? Somehow I doubt that." - I retort as I toss her back on the stool.
"Aaaah! Haaaaaaaah! Khaaah!... Hurk!" - she comments insightfully, bending over on her own as she heaves a mouthful of water on the floor. A couple of dry heaves follow. Nabad, nabad. The squeak she makes when I drag her to the bucket again is delicious.
"Aaah!... Please, no, stop, please!... Please, I don't know any...glub-glub-glub!" - aaand she continues to be stubborn.
I shrug at sir Malachi. "People those days. So dishonest. So uncooperative." - I complain - "One would think I asked for her firstborn, not for the name of the bastard who set her up to be tortured."
He chuckles. "Well, let it not be said that crooks are known for their thinking, lady Gillespie." - he commiserates - "At this rate, mayhaps we might be served better if I just start writing out the execution certificate."
"Aaaaa!... Abbatour! It's viscount Abbatour!" - she shrieks fearfully.
"Abbatour? Why would he care? His holdings are in the southeast, if I recall correctly." - I muse, as I take a fistful of hair and twist it around my palm for better grip. The dunking is met with even more frantic flailing, she even manages to upset the stool she was sitting on. Tossing her down on the floor, I sigh and set about righting the stool.
"...Please, oh please it was viscount Abbatour, I swear!.. He gave me the marriage contract to monsieur Konistan, I swear to gods, awhuhuhuhaaaaaaaaugh!" - she breaks down on the floor hysterically.
"Where did your accent go?" - I inquire, following my inquiry with a light kick to the abdomen. She curls up, whimpering.
I turn to sir Malachi, and sit down in the chair next to him. "Well, here is our first clue. Viscount Abbatour." - I muse - "I'm inclined to think it's a lie. I do not have any interests near his holdings, and he has no direct relatives currently in the capital to the best of my knowledge. Why would he want to harm my business, and why would he go about it so ineptly?"
Malachi chews his lip thoughtfully. "Hrm... Nothing comes to mind." - he muses - "Abbatours made their wealth off the iron mines in their territory, as far as I recall. I can't think of any reason why viscount would want to hamper the production of pastries, of all things. It's entirely out of his sphere of interest."
I stand up and walk back to our unwilling guest, who shrinks back from me. "He never told me why!" - she shouts desperately - "But I overheard him complaining you're pushing too many new things, too fast!"
"That does not explain why he would target a pastry shop, of all things." - I object, hauling her back to her feet.
"It was my idea! He simply told me to try and sell something of yours to court nobles!" - she hurries, shivering as the bucket looms closer.
I sigh and drop her on the bucket, letting her head sink into it for a moment, before the whole thing overturns. The water splashes all over her, leaving her back on the floor with an empty bucket on her head.
"Well, sir Malachi... What do we do from here?" - I quip, as I sit back down - "She was truthful when she said it was Abbatour, but that only means she personally believes she's been put up to this by him. Not that he actually did it. For all that we know, someone else pulled her own trick on her first. In fact, it's more than likely, considering that the idea of passing her for madame Konistan also came from them. Nonetheless, she is guilty of marriage fraud, at least, given that Konistan was already dead by the time she signed the marriage contract. I daresay he couldn't have possibly married from beyond the grave."
Malachi shrugs. "Your claim is legally precedent, lady Gillespie." - he proffers - "While crown will persecute her for marriage fraud on behalf of late Konistan, the truth of the matter is that Konistan was only a commoner. Wealthy, but commoner nonetheless. Ergo, her fate belongs to you. If it so happens that she's still alive after you mete your punishment, she will be consigned to indentured labor henceforth."
"Hrm." - I muse - "So... Can I punish her by giving someone else a contract to use her as an indentured servant?"
Malachi nods - "It would be exceptionally merciful of you, but yes, you can. Why, what do you have in mind?"
I smirk at him - "I was thinking of asking madame Cocoshon if she wants another courtesan in her fine establishment."
The wails of the damned on the floor do so soothe my nonexistent soul.