DoubleBlind
patreon
Everyone's a Catgirl! Ch. 237: Supercell
🕑 Added 2023-08-14 00:42:23 +0000 UTCThe sun was rising when Destiny woke. During the evening, someone had draped a sheet over her shoulders. She couldn’t remember falling asleep, only that she’d taken to a chair to one corner of the room, offering advice whenever Tristan appeared troubled.
Tristan sat at the center of the room, hunched over the book Melody had given them. The gentle light offered by the sun seeping through the blinds cast a soft glow on his body, outlining the tiny hairs on his forearms. He continued to turn the pages, the crisp sound of shifting paper wading through the room.
“Tristan?” Destiny said, rubbing her eye. “Why are you still awake?”
The young man turned his head toward her, forcing a smile. “Good morning, Destiny.” Deep, dark bags hung beneath his eyes. His blonde hair was tousled more than usual, sticking up in the back in thin sheets. Much of the color had drained from his skin. He yawned. “Couldn’t sleep.” He turned his attention back to the book, turning another page. “Thought I might as well look into more of the expenditures.”
Bless your heart, you poor thing. Destiny removed the sheet and stood, balling it and setting it down on the chair. This is really bothering you, isn’t it? She sat, tucking her legs beneath her, then gently positioned his head on her shoulder. “Don’t overwork yourself.”
He sighed. “This is a real mess.”
“Want to talk about it?” Despite Celestia’s constant disappointment banging against the doors of her self-esteem, she liked to believe she was somewhat intelligent. At least, when Tristan or Lara were involved. “I might be able to help.”
I hope I can. I can, right? Saoirse, please give me the wisdom to help him.
Tristan shut his eyes, and Destiny ran a hand through his hair while Lara and Ravyn snored and kicked in the beds behind them. Destiny giggled softly, listening to Tristan’s breathing. “Where do I even start?”
Whenever Destiny struggled to find solutions, she liked to start with the biggest problem first. As she’d learned during her time in Venicia, taking care of the most troublesome issues before anything else was the best way to alleviate stress and anxiety. “How about where the most money is being spent?”
That didn’t sound stupid, right? I phrased that correctly? Surely that made sense.
Destiny combated her rising anxiety and waited for Tristan’s answer.
“Military. As I expected.” He lifted his head from her shoulder, and her skin immediately felt cold from his departure. He pulled the book closer, positioning it so the center aligned with where their knees touched. “Sixty-seven thousand, three hundred and thirty-three Bells spent in one month. That’s just for guard fees.” He rubbed his chin. “I didn’t even make that from a single, erm…copulating Quest.”
Destiny blushed at his word choice and sucked in her lips. She loved how carefully he spoke.
“I’ve never seen that many Bells in one place,” Destiny admitted.
“Nor have I.” Tristan flipped back a few pages, brushing his finger down a list of names. “These are all the guards that were paid. I counted one hundred and fifty-three guards in total. That accounts for Shulan, alone.” He clicked his tongue, then sighed. “The number I gave you before also only accounts for Shulan. If we look here,” he tapped his finger to a guard’s name, “Maribelle is paid eleven Bells a day. In the entire month, she earned one hundred and sixty-four Bells. I did some math,” he gestured to a sheet of paper set to the side littered with rows of numbers, “and estimated she worked fifteen days out of the month.”
“So they’re paid a wage for the day and not by the amount of time worked?” Destiny frowned at the concerning number of rows on his sheet.
“That’s the fun part,” he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “I don’t know. Admittedly, I’m working under the assumption that they receive a set payment each day they work—like a salary. Every time I end up with an answer, I’m confronted with another question. This is not something I can fix in a day, a week, or…” He paused. “Hell, even a year might not be enough time.” His last sentence came out in a frustrated groan. “This is like San Francisco all over again.”
Destiny had lost count of how many times she’d heard of San Francisco during their time together. Curiosity prodded at her mind as she wondered how such a strikingly beautiful city could suffer from so many issues. In Tristan’s mirror, the place lit up as night fell, sparkling like thousands of stars.
It was too bad Shulan, and the whole of San Island for that matter, seemed to have more in common with this San Francisco than Destiny imagined.
“Okay,” Destiny said. “So the guards are where the most money is being spent. Where are we not spending the money?”
I should have rephrased that better. That sounded stupid coming out like that.
“That’s been taking longer to figure out than I’d anticipated.” Tristan picked up the book and set it atop their touching knees, clumping a thick number of pages between his fingers and flipping through until he reached a section labeled ‘Nyannies.’ “See here.” He pointed to a name halfway down the page. “This Caroline person was working for a couple of months. But then, there’s just a list of X’s in the other brackets where her earnings should be listed.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Tristan shook his head. “It could mean she was fired or that she’s a no-show— ah, sorry. That means she just didn’t show up for work that day.”
Destiny smiled. “I thought as much.”
Tristan half-laughed, keeping his voice low. “What was I saying?” He rubbed his forehead, then worked his way down to his brow, and then his eyes. “Right, X’s. I found more X’s in other places outside of labor. Like item inventory and livestock.”
“So, then, the X’s could mean a lot of different things?”
“Yeah,” Tristan sighed. “Judging from that, I’m inclined to believe that it means they disappeared in some way. I mean, if they were fired, why continue to mark them down?” He bowed his head. “Or… it could mean they did work, they just didn’t receive pay on that day, for…whatever reason. But why use the same mark in other places?” He groaned. “I’m probably overthinking this.”
“Let’s return to the X’s later,” Destiny said, hoping to distract him. From her experience, Tristan tended to focus on a single problem, seeking answers for said problem, then quietly buckling under pressure when he came to another issue that continued to exacerbate the problem. “You said something about the nyannies?”
“Ah, right. Sorry, lost my train of thought there,” Tristan replied, flipping a few more pages to the left.
“Don’t be. This is a lot of work for a group, let alone a single person.” She put her hand on top of his. “Please remember that you are not alone in this.” Tristan turned his head toward her, his eyes blood shoot. Her heart skipped a beat, and she had to fight the dour expression she felt coming on. He needed her smile right now. “I know Lara and I may not seem it at times, but we learned much from Venicia’s School of Etiquette.”
Are you sure about that, Destiny? Didn’t you flunk almost every class you took? Destiny swallowed the thought.
“Rely on me,” Destiny continued. “Please.”
Tristan nodded, his stare vacant as if he were chewing on her words. “Okay. Something strange I noticed about the nyanny situation,” he pointed to another list of names, “is that there is never any consistent organization to it.”
“Meaning?”
Are you not paying attention? How are you going to help him if you keep asking stupid questions like that?
“Well, everywhere I look, the funding for projects, jobs, roads, structures, you name it; they’re all organized into neat rows with consistent page counts. See here.” He flipped a few more pages over, counting out loud. “Three pages in, expenditures for guards.” He turned back. “Three pages forward, expenditures for guards. That’s not how it plays out for nyannies, however. They’re always footnotes at best. That leads me to believe that they’re an afterthought.”
If she were being honest, Destiny struggled to keep up with what he meant. She was sure that whatever he was saying was the truth, but his mouth and hands moved with a speed she often struggled to comprehend. As if he were always thinking five steps ahead.
Wondering what it’s like to be smart and not stupid? Destiny shut her eyes, mouthing for her inner monologue to silence itself. When she opened them again, it was with the express intent to offer aid.
“Could that be part of the problem?” Destiny asked. She thought she recalled Ravyn complaining about the number of orphans in the street. Pickpocketing was a large issue in the city, so perhaps there weren’t enough nyannies to keep the orphan population under control. “Why are there so many orphans to begin with? Should the nyannies not be taking care of them?”
“This is a question for Ravyn,” Tristan admitted. “I don’t know enough about San Island, its culture, its people, or really much of anything.” He looked over his shoulder at the sleeping [Sorcerer]. She’d taken the other bed after Lara had insisted they try speaking with Fire. “We’ll ask her some questions when she wakes up.”
Suddenly, Ravyn shot up, startling Tristan and Destiny. On reflex, Destiny scooted away from the young master, half-ashamed that they’d been so close with others in the room.
You think anyone wants to see you naked, anyway? Ravyn is what the men desire. Not someone like you.
A line of drool hung from one corner of Ravyn’s mouth. “You say my name?”
“Uh, yeah,” Tristan stammered.
“Mm.” She sat there for a few seconds before collapsing backward into a deep sleep. Her snores filled the room, and Destiny and Tristan chuckled.
Destiny resumed her spot beside Tristan, flushing. “Perhaps we’ll give them a little longer.”
“Yes. I think they need the rest.”
“You should sleep too.”
Tristan glanced at the book and sheets of paper he’d been writing on, then nodded. “You’re right.”
—
“Shit,” Ravyn said after hearing what Tristan had told Destiny earlier. “I could spend some time explaining things to you, but it wouldn’t make a difference.” She took the book out of Tristan’s hand, opened it, and shuffled through a few of the pages. “Nyannies are paid like garbage.” She snapped the book shut, then proffered it back to Tristan.
“I’m open to suggestions,” Tristan said, sighing. “It’s kept me up all night.”
Ravyn blinked. “You’re that worried?”
He nodded. “Of course I am. I hate to see others suffer.”
“My favorite trait about you,” Lara said, grinning. Her apron was tucked so that it folded in awkwardly between her sash. Destiny motioned to it, and with slow and methodical motions, Lara went to work adjusting it.
“I’m done watching people take on the world by themselves,” Ravyn said flatly. “San Island can’t be fixed in a day. You said it yourself. When you work on it, we work on it together. Do you understand?”
“I… Yes. Yes, of course,” Tristan said with a half-frown.
Wow, some kindness. She’s capable of it after all.
“Good.”
“Let’s take the book back and get outta here,” Ravyn said, flicking her head toward the door. “We can’t do this as we are. We’re going to need help.”
“Useless fucks, useless fucks! Squawwwk!” Ball cried from atop Ravyn’s shoulder.
“Wait, where are we going?” Destiny asked, grabbing Ravyn by the elbow.
She turned her head toward the maid, a hint of anger twisting her lips. “To Zhuli. We need a master’s touch. My mother’s touch.”
