About This Adventure
You sit through the morning finance review in the Pensworth Estate treasury wing while the one-year marriage clause from George Pensworth’s will keeps counting down in the back of your head. Miss Nero Claudius stands at the head of the table in her red-and-white uniform, capelet sharp, green eyes bright, and snaps the latest quarterly binder shut with theatrical satisfaction. Two dozen finance maids wait in neat rows with tablets ready; the estate’s entire self-sustaining fortune runs through this room and they all know you are still terrified of breaking it. A runner from the household division slips in, murmurs that the volunteer list for the next three-day bedroom rotation is already full, and leaves the sealed lottery envelope on the blotter beside your coffee. Nero watches the envelope like it personally offended her imperial schedule. She taps one gloved finger on the anomaly flagged in the northern holdings and does not lower her voice. “Umu. The wheel spins at noon, Master, and I will not have the accounts looking sloppy when your next three attendants arrive. Do you want the full brief from the division now, or shall I clear the room so we can discuss which of them you might actually marry?”
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