Page 20 of A Match Made in Slumber

That sounded like an intrusive interrogation, the sort designed to trap applicants with ridiculous, prying questions about which side of the mattress they slept on.

“Cholerius, isn’t that a bit much?” Elian protested in a voice that rose half an octave. “We’re in the middle of the busiest market period of the season. I have stock to prepare, accounts to maintain, matchsticks to—”

“Regulations, Elian,” Cholerius tapped on the desk. “Regulations must be adhered to at all times. And we do want everything to be entirely legal and proper, do we not?”

Defeated, Elian scribbled his signature and slumped back into his chair.

Cholerius accepted the completed residency form, co-signing it with a swift, elegant flourish. “I have scheduled your audit in five days.”

Dejected, Elian asked, “Who will be conducting the examination?”

“Myself,” Cholerius clipped out. “The interview will be recorded for the archives by one of our magical scribes. Prepare yourselves well, is my advice. I need to be entirely certain of your union’s legitimacy or else the original kidnapping charge will be reinstated at once. Good day, Elian.”

As Elian began gathering our documents, my eyes drifted toward a massive, detailed map of the market square pinned to the wall behind the High Arbiter’s chair. My training overrode the bureaucratic boredom as an idea popped into my head.

“Your perimeter layout is a logistical bottleneck,” I observed, my voice cutting through the quiet office.

Cholerius paused, his quill hovering an inch above his inkwell. He glanced up, his sharp eyes narrowing as he examined me. “I beg your pardon?”

“The market square,” I said, pointing at the map. “The current zoning entirely compromises your supply lines. Yesterday, while trading, I made a few observations as to the setup of Astrology and Magic Services. According to my evaluation, the current infrastructure is highly inefficient.”

A small squeak escaped Elian. He sent a panicked look my way in an attempt to shut me up, no doubt.

“Go on,” Cholerius murmured. He leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting from frosty dismissal to curiosity.

“I can’t speak of other sections, not having the occasion to assess them. But the existing format at your AMS-Six area creates a severe fire hazard, to start with,” I explained, rising from my chair to step closer to the map. “For instance, the spots here and here,” I indicated the relevant sectors, “experienced massive obstruction twice, once in the morning and then in the afternoon due to an overturned sugar cart. I’m told this is a regular occurrence. This happens because the alleyways are too narrow and the queues entirely unruly. In the event of a localised fire, your security forces would be unable to operate, never mind evacuate that zone. There is a total lack of tactical space.”

Elian stared at me open-mouthed.

Cholerius, however, appeared intrigued. He stood, joined me at the map and traced the bottleneck in question with his index finger. “An astute observation, commander. We have struggled with the logistics of that specific junction for three seasons. The sugar merchants refuse to alter their transit routes and times."

“Then you enforce a one-way supply corridor through the northern palisade,” I countered, following a line along the map’s wooden frame. “Clear away the secondary storage stalls here and establish a dedicated operational emergency area there instead. It fixes the infrastructure, prevents over-queuing and ensures your security detail maintains clear lines of sight.”

“You possess a remarkably efficient mind, Commander Reñyés.” A flicker of respect dawned on Cholerius’ face. “The security is currently managed by a group of city watchmen. As hard-working as they are, they couldn't organise a feast in a tavern, let alone handle the busiest domestic trade centre. Hmm. Tell me, how would you feel about accepting a post as the Chief of Marketplace Security?”

Elian let out another strangled, breathless sound. His head snapped between the two of us as if we had both grown an extra set of heads.

I drew myself up, maintaining my best military posture. “My primary objective at present is to assist my husband with his trading stall. However… I am not entirely opposed to accepting the security command as a secondary post, provided it does not interfere with my domestic obligations.”

“Excellent.” Cholerius offered a curt nod of satisfaction. “We shall formalise the contract after your Spousal Audit. I look forward to its successful result.”

We shook hands on that and I turned back to Elian, who stood by his chair, seeming a little dazed. He cast a wide gaze at me, bewilderment and admiration both plain to see.

Winking at him, I took him by the elbow to lead him towards the exit.

Outmanoeuvring stiff officials wasn’t new to me. By making Cholerius personally invested in the outcome of our marital interview, we turned the bureaucratic machine slightly in our favour. As my lieutenant always used to say, It’s not who you know; it’s who you blow.

Everything Is Fine

Timeline: Twelve hours till the Spousal Audit

Elian

Four days vanished in a dizzying, frantic blur.

Stock continued to fly off my Enchanted Matchsticks for Every Occasion stall at a ridiculous rate—partly because of the superior quality of my products but mostly because Kill’em’s presence continued to act as a huge attraction. We could’ve rolled in silver pieces if such a whim had occurred to us. Across the market square, my stall and my sudden marriage remained the core of daily gossip.

Kill’em possessed an uncanny knack for reading a room. He scanned the crowd and identified high-value customers—influential lords, wealthy tourists or merchant guild masters—before they even uttered a syllable. His total command of our booth’s logistics relieved the pressure on me, granting me valuable time to focus on my alchemical creations. Increased demand called for a bigger inventory, requiring me to stay on top of production.