Lacking Talent to Write scripts
While the rest of the Imperial Palace and every minister's wife was consumed with preparations for the Grand Floral Banquet, Cassidy Sterling had completely forgotten it even existed.
She was drowning in work, all thanks to the Spring Breeze Tower.
She'd even managed to put Prince Ashworth to work, a man who typically spent his days in a drunken haze.
There wasn't a single idle person left in the entire Ashworth Manor, and it *still* wasn't enough. They were desperately short on talent.
Cassidy stood on the second floor of the tower, hands clasped behind her back as she watched the frantic rush of people below. She let out a heavy sigh. It wasn't just a lack of decent acting troupes; she couldn't find anyone to write the scripts, either. This was just too hard.
Princess Solana, the Fourth Princess, found her friend looking completely overwhelmed.
"What is it?" Solana asked. "Short on cash?"
Cassidy threw her head back and sighed dramatically at the ceiling. "It's not money. It's people. I'm short on people."
Solana followed her gaze, wondering what was so interesting about the rafters. "If you need money, I can help. But if you need people, I'm useless."
Cassidy's head drooped in defeat.
"Why not just open a little later?" Solana suggested.
Cassidy shook her head. "We can't. We have to strike while the buzz around Landon Vance and Percival Dawes is still hot."
Solana had no idea what "buzz" meant, but at this point, she trusted Cassidy unconditionally. "So, what kind of people do we need?"
"Scriptwriters," Cassidy lamented. If her own writing skills weren't so tragic, she would've just done it herself. She gave her friend a pointed look. "You've lived in Argent for fourteen years. You're telling me you don't know a single person who can write? Don't you have any friends?"
The look was so obvious that Solana didn't need to guess. It was pure, unadulterated judgment.
"Every prominent family in Argent is grooming their sons for politics or scholarship," Solana retorted.
"What young man is going to throw that away to write scripts instead of studying the classics? And even if one of them did, they wouldn't dare let anyone find out. Otherwise..."
She trailed off, but then her eyes lit up.
"Wait. Cassidy, I think I know someone."
"Who is it?" Cassidy asked immediately.
"Ryder Sinclair."
Cassidy blinked. "Who's Ryder Sinclair?"
Solana shot her a glare. "You've gotten into a fight with him."
Cassidy pointed to herself, an expression of pure innocence on her face. "Me? I'm a sweet, charming delight who wouldn't hurt a fly. How could I possibly get into a fight with someone? Don't spread such vicious rumors."
Solana was speechless. "You have absolutely no shame," she finally managed. Cassidy really never missed an opportunity for a little self-promotion.
Realizing they were getting sidetracked, they both seemed to relax at the same time, dropping the argument.
Cassidy got straight to the point. "So where is he?"
Solana hesitated. "Well... he doesn't write scripts anymore."
"Why not?"
"I heard that when his father found out he was writing, he went berserk," Solana explained. "He accused Ryder of neglecting his studies, of writing 'trash' instead of studying the Sages' Books. And then, in a fit of rage, he burned all of Ryder's manuscripts."
Cassidy physically winced. Ouch. She was pretty sure she'd kill her own father for something like that. "What is wrong with that man? Is writing scripts really that offensive?"
"Exactly. Ryder had a massive falling out with his father after that. He dropped his studies completely and now just wanders the streets, picking fights and causing trouble. Besides your father, he's probably the most notorious rake in all of Argent."
Cassidy looked personally offended. "And we didn't even make the list?"
Solana threw her hands up. "Cassidy, are you even listening to me?! Is your ranking on the list of local degenerates really the most important thing right now?"
After a moment of chastised silence, Cassidy just rubbed her nose awkwardly. "Sorry. Continue." Then another thought struck her. "If Ryder's acting like this, his father doesn't do anything to stop him?"
Solana snorted. "His mother gave birth to another son. Grand Tutor Sinclair pours all his attention into the younger boy now. Why would he waste his time on Ryder?"
"So his father doesn't care about him anymore? Perfect," Cassidy declared. "He can come write for us. I'll even put him on a monthly salary."
Solana doubted it would be that simple, but she didn't have any better ideas. "I suppose we could go to the Sinclair estate and ask him."
Cassidy thought that was a brilliant idea.
When they arrived, a servant informed them that Ryder was currently being punished.
*What a coincidence,* Cassidy thought.
She just pretended she didn't understand the servant's polite refusal to let them in. Leaning into her shamelessness, she grabbed Solana's arm and steered her directly toward the main hall.
Solana, now being dragged along against her will, hissed, "Aren't we just here to ask him a question?" This felt less like a recruitment mission and more like they were about to raid the place.
"Didn't you hear the servant? He's being punished," Cassidy said with a grin. "It's the perfect time to go offer our support."
Solana had a feeling Cassidy's definition of "support" was very different from her own. She just knew that barging in like this would land them in the Imperial Clan Court by morning.
Cassidy, however, couldn't care less. She only had a month left to live, anyway. As long as she didn't die today, she'd cause all the trouble she wanted. Worst case scenario? She'd just skip town and roam the world as a sword for hire.
The scene in the main hall was tense. The Grand Tutor sat in the master's seat, his face thunderous, while Ryder knelt stiffly on the floor before him. A woman sat beside the Grand Tutor, trying desperately to placate him.
"My lord, please, calm down. Ryder is still young, it's normal for him to be impulsive," she pleaded, before turning to the boy.
"Ryder, just apologize to your father. He's only doing this for your own good. You can't go around spreading private family matters about your brother. Think of how it looks!"
Grand Tutor Sinclair was so furious his beard was practically vibrating.
"This rebellious son!" he boomed. "You spend your days uneducated, running with degenerates, and now you're behaving like a common gossip, spreading rumors and making trouble! You've brought nothing but shame to the Sinclair name!"
Ryder didn't flinch. He just knelt there, his eyes cold and his voice dangerously flat. "Since I bring so much shame to the Sinclair name, why not just disown me? You have your new heir. Focus your attention on him. Why waste your time on a piece of trash like me?"
That did it. The Grand Tutor snatched a wooden cane from nearby and raised it to strike. "You insolent boy! Don't think for a second I won't throw you out of this house!"
Just as the cane was about to swing down, Cassidy's voice cut through the tension.
"Lord Sinclair, hello! So sorry to interrupt."
Her voice, clear and just a little bit arrogant, rang out from the doorway. Every head in the room snapped toward the entrance. There stood Princess Solana and Princess Verity, Cassidy, strolling in as if they owned the place, ignoring the flustered servants trying to stop them.
Cassidy wasn't the least bit embarrassed by the stunned silence. After all, she could charm a stray dog, let alone a room full of gawking aristocrats.
"Lord Sinclair," she began, her tone light and breezy, "do your servants not like me? I came all this way to visit, and they wouldn't even let me in the door. It's terribly rude. If you like, I can send over a few of my own people to show them how it's done."
The Grand Tutor, still clutching the cane, scowled at the sight of them. But his expression froze when he remembered exactly who they were: the Emperor's daughter and the Emperor's niece. He instantly smoothed his features, lowered the cane, and straightened his robes before offering a formal bow.
"Your Highnesses," he said, his voice now carefully controlled. "I was unaware you would be gracing us with your presence. Please forgive my failure to give you a proper welcome."