Chapter 1: Contracts and Crumpets

When afternoon tea involves life-altering decisions

Ahoy, friends and welcome back!

Guess what happened this week? Aisen and Evelyn literally came to life. Voice actors Hel (voiceofhel) and Zack (zackr.vo) brought them to the world through a charity snippet for The Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights, and hearing their voices gave me chills.

This timing feels especially meaningful because CHIRLA's mission connects directly to a part of “Boundless” —immigration, asylum-seeking, and displacement due to political upheaval are central themes you'll encounter throughout this trilogy. No human is illegal. I encourage you to check them out and consider supporting their vital work.

Special thanks to Hel and Zack for giving Aisen and Ev a voice. 💖 You can listen to the snippet here!

Monday's chapter introduced four of our five central characters and took us on quite the emotional roller-coaster. For new subscribers joining us (welcome aboard!), you can catch up here:

Musical theme for Chapter 1:

⚠️Content Warnings:
Discussions of classism, financial debt, war displacement/seeking asylum, and coercion. Alcohol use.

Now hop into your steam-powered DeLoreans as we skip ahead twenty years and back to the sunny shores of Benevento…and a tea party that’s about to go very sideways.

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CHAPTER 1: EVELYN

1820 A.C.
BENEVENTO, THE CAPITAL CITY OF THE REPUBLIC OF AERETREYA

“Ev, aren’t you going to have some cake?”

Evelyn startled, her gaze snapping from the terraced orchard behind her family’s estate to Momma’s concerned face.

“I made your favorite. White chocolate with raspberry compote,” she said over Evelyn’s shoulder, kissing her cheek as she set down a porcelain plate. “Happy birthday, darling.”

“Your Uncle Leo arrives by-and-by. Says he wanted to see you off this last time,” Poppa muttered, following her stare to the fruiting lemon groves as they swayed in the sun. “Trinity bless him— he seems to think you’re coming home for good after you graduate.”

In one moon cycle, Evelyn would sail hundreds of miles north to Pria for her looming final year of the Ars Medica — the seven-year academic program conferring a medical degree. Part of her wanted to linger behind, perhaps delay graduation, and help her parents with the distillery process to get their wines to market. But gods knew she had worked hard enough to arrive at the King’s School in the first place. Abandoning ship now was a fool’s gamble.

“Well, I hate to disappoint him when I tell him I plan to remain in Fabinmore,” she shrugged, smoothing her napkin over her lap.

“Ev, he’s been a generous benefactor to you.” Momma’s voice was a warning as she fiddled with her silverware. “He’ll expect a show of gratitude for it. Perhaps in the form of employment.”

“But I’ve already told the Revered Mother that I would consider taking a post with the Church of Pria. They have a great need for help—”

It was impossible to ignore the dark glances her parents exchanged whenever this topic came up. It always brought a sense of unbearable tension and dread to the supper table, and in a way, Evelyn hadn’t missed it all these years. Her father had once been the esteemed Il Barone Cosimo III, the brother to the Heir Apparent of Azureport. But he suffered from a terrible, delusional dream: that he would somehow get his wife and children out of Arleham-Fralise before the Great Wars became a threat to their livelihoods. And his schemes to move them west—gambling debts, risky investments, refusal to join the war against the Elves—had cost them everything.

Evelyn didn’t fully grasp the peril of their situation until she was much older and saw the toll it took on her hardworking parents. They’d been exiled from the capital when she was only five, their citizenship and holdings stripped and the repayment of their debts written in blood. So they did what was necessary to survive, planting roots in sunny, neighboring Aeretreya and starting over, always monitoring the horizon for the Duke’s solicitors.

And now Evelyn watched with unspoken sorrow as her father drained his wineglass in three gulps. “Poppa, perhaps go easy on the spirits. I’d hate to see you get a bellyache just as Uncle Leo arrives,” she murmured, reaching across the table to clasp his hand.

“We’ll talk more once he’s gone. He just made port,” Momma sighed as she rested her chin in one hand and rang the silver bell on the table with the other, her stare fixed on the harbor below. “I’ll tell Ora to set out tea for us all.”

Leonardo Venturi VII, the Duke of Azureport, was once dashing, but now age and war had hardened him. He bore the same fiery red hair, gold-hazel eyes, and deeply bronzed complexion as Evelyn, her father, and her siblings—the hallmarks of the Venturi bloodline. He was a burly, imposing man, dressed so much like a buccaneer that it was impossible to tell he ruled one of the wealthiest duchies in the world. And as he climbed the stone steps with his retinue of shipmates, the caution from her entire family was palpable.

Evelyn watched as her parents exchanged practiced greetings with him, then as her sisters received him with kisses. And finally, it was her turn as her stomach twisted into a knot.

“Milord.” She greeted him with a stiff curtsey, observing him like a hawk.

“Hello, Tesora. It’s been a long while, hasn’t it?” he grinned, giving her shoulder an uncomfortable squeeze. “I should like to have a word with my niece. In private, if you please,” he announced to the gaggle of household members in the receiving line, nodding at Momma. “Geneva, be a dear and ask the maid to set tea out on the terraza, would you? It’s too lovely a day to sit indoors.”

Evelyn excused herself to her bedroom, knowing the Duke would want time to stroll the grounds after being at sea. She bound up her hair and tucked a modest fichu around her bust line; gods forbid he get any impression that she’d strayed from her austere religious practices while home. Then she gently traced the outline of the platinum medallion at her neck—the icon of the god of sacrifice and martyrdom, Illmestys—one of the seven deities officially sanctioned by the Church of Pria, and a member of the Holy Trinity.

Evelyn had chosen Illmestys because they were the same god followed by paladins and war priests who performed rites of healing on fallen soldiers. But worshiping them required immense discipline—vows of lifelong celibacy to keep the channels of healing magic unblemished by sin. And Evelyn found that particular decree to be sometimes…challenging.

“Embarking on a new chapter, eh?” The Duke set his tricorn hat at the edge of the table and stroked his manicured beard as Evelyn joined him. “I daresay, Tesora, your academic achievements are remarkable. I told your Aunt Agrippa that your trust fund was one of the smartest investments we’ve ever made. No doubt you have a bright future.”

“That’s gracious of you to say so, Uncle,” she replied, reaching for the teapot. “I know the family’s not pleased that I couldn’t find a suitable marriage match. But at least this way, I can perform the Trinity’s works of my own volition. Perhaps spread a little hope during these trying times.”

“So what do you plan to do after graduation? Besides taking your vows?” The Duke’s gaze drifted to hers as he studied her with interest.

“Well,” she began, clearing her throat, “I’m considering missionary work. Perhaps traveling north to the refugees or staying in Fabinmore. I’ve prayed much about it, and I feel I’d be meeting my full potential as a public servant.”

“Oh, Evelyn,” he laughed, leaning forward to hold his teacup out for her to fill. “Such pious aspirations you have in that proud heart of yours. Those options would guarantee you a pauper’s life. Wouldn’t you rather live in comfort? Perhaps return to the motherland?”

She frowned as she poured his tea, then slid it across the table. “Are you asking if I’m interested in joining your court?”

“Precisely that. But there’s more. Revered Father Enzio is ready to retire,” the Duke said as he nonchalantly stirred his cup with a silver spoon while Evelyn wrung the napkin in her lap with shaky hands. “He’ll be eighty come winter. We need to find a suitable replacement post-haste.”

She scoffed. “You want me to…become your next Benedicta?”

“What higher calling could you possibly serve?” The Duke gave her a wry smile as he raised the cup to his lips. “If you’re a smart woman—which I know you are—you’ll consider it a great honor. The station of a Benedictine is that of a holy person. You’d be held in only the highest reverence and respect.” Then he leaned forward to meet her gaze, his hands eagerly clutching the edges of the table as if he were brokering a treaty with her. “And imagine the good you’d do, Evelyn. You’d be my family’s personal physician, of course, but there’s potential for more. You could serve as a spiritual advisor to the peerage. The priestess who blesses the fleets before they sail into battle. The saint who visits the infirm in the hospital and hands alms to the impoverished in the rookeries.” He raised his voice when she laughed out loud at the last bit. “Evelyn. You’d be a paragon for those social causes you claim to hold so dear. The hope of the people of Azureport.”

There was little Evelyn could say back as she tilted her head to look at the blue skies through the terraza’s latticed roof. Then she let out a dark chuckle, shaking her head. “That sounds aspirational, doesn’t it? How could a wretched spinster like me turn an offer like that down?”

“Just like every lass in this family. Stubborn as all Hells,” he grunted as he sat back in his chair and examined the bejeweled rings on his fingers. “You know…your father still owes me thousands of florins. And because I’m benevolent, I may consider discharging his debt through an employment contract. Between you and me.”

“For how long?”

“Oh, it’s a lifetime appointment. Legal and binding, of course. You would serve until you’re no longer able.”

“Why would I want to limit myself to such a thing?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow as she sipped her tea, nonplussed that he would use her family’s grievances to manipulate her. “I would, in theory, be your indentured servant, no?”

“Such strong words, Tesora. I figured you’d be resistant to it, so I thought I’d parley with you a bit. You know. Sweeten the deal for you.”

This was about to get very interesting. Evelyn sipped her tea through a scowl as she waited for him to seal the bargain. “Go on.”

“I would allow your family to emigrate back to Arleham-Fralise, then reinstate their citizenship. They’d be well-provided for and under my protection. Close enough that you could see them often. But most of all, your parents would be free of their debt. Permanently.”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, just as the mention of her father’s burden sent a wave of panic through her. “They’re quite happy in Benevento. Their business thrives. My sisters are flourishing. Talia’s engaged to be married.” She shrugged as casually as if they were discussing the weather, but the bite in her words was sharp. “I’m not sure you could convince them to return to a place that branded them traitors and rogues.”

“That defiance. I suppose you’ve never quite grown out of it,” The Duke scratched at the back of his head with a grimace. “Very well. What else could you possibly want as a bargaining chip, Tesora? Your own private stable? I know you still love riding very much. A seat on my advisory council? A personal allowance so you can buy yourself frilly dresses? Not that you’d need those as a Revered Mother, but I know you still crave the finer things. Much as I do.”

Evelyn set her teacup down, cleared her throat, and straightened her shoulders in a show of confidence. Then her next words were as serious as a queen’s edict:

“I want you to order Uncle Serpico to stop patrolling the Glass Strand. His men do nothing but plunder, pillage, and rape. The presence of his gunships in neutral waters crushes the spirits of the people here. They consider it a bad omen– that bloodshed is on the horizon again. It’s greatly hurt the shipping industry in Benevento. And that’s the only way some families here put food on the table.” She narrowed her eyes at the Duke as she levied her last demand on him. “And it’s the least you can do to honor Emilio’s sacrifice to your cause.”

The Duke was silent as he studied her and ran his fingertip along the edge of his butter knife. Then he chortled as if she had told him the cleverest joke he’d ever heard. “You’re more cunning than I gave you credit for. Here, I thought you might want a pretty pony or a bigger trust fund. Instead, you ask me to demilitarize a vital holding to our cause. Tsk tsk. I suppose that makes sense, though. You are a daughter of the High Martyr after all.”

Then something red and angry boiled up in him as he dropped the knife with a clatter, braced his hands on the table, and leaned forward to growl at her. “But hear this: your brother’s sacrifice was not in vain. He died honorably. In service to gods and country, defending our shores from uncivilized invaders. And if you wish to see an end to the war, you’ll accept that what he did—and what I now ask you to do—is a worthy endeavor for all Fralisians. Including your family.”

Evelyn was unsure how to respond. Her heart was pounding fiercely in its fragile cage, her lungs exploding with the words she wanted to hurl back. But her voice of reason urged her to stay in control. So instead, she demurely folded her hands in her lap, took a steady breath, and looked out over the calm sea.

“I want time to think about it.”

“When? You sail for Fabinmore the next moon, yes?” The Duke huffed as he reached into his breast pocket to produce a bundle of folded parchments. “Every day that passes, your parents’ debt accrues interest. Your father’s health is failing—all thanks to his love for the bottle.” As he continued, he casually unfolded them and set them in front of her. “You’re thirty years old today. You’ll never marry or bear children. You’ve already sworn your life to the Church. Why not serve the gods in a place that’s safe? A place where you can still enjoy life and see your family well taken care of?”

“And what freedoms will I have?”

“I’m sure we can work out some sort of arrangement for you to take furlough occasionally.” He signaled to two of his men—his purser and an armed naval officer—as they hovered at the terazza steps. “But as our holy woman, we can’t very well have you prancing along the coast unguarded and unaccompanied. Not when the goddamn Elves still hold Duntonport. You’re too valuable an asset. We’ll expect you to have your own retinue and protection at all times.” Then he curled his finger at the purser to step forward as he set a stack of ledgers, a quill, and an inkwell on the table.

“What’s all this?” Evelyn grimaced as she watched the Duke open one to skim it with his fingertip.

“It’s a record of the debts your parents still owe the Crown,” he smiled, practically bearing his teeth at her. “And see here? Where your name is? That’s for the thousands of florins in tuition money we’ve paid to the King’s School.” As Evelyn stifled a gasp, the Duke leered at her. The numbers on the page were a dreadful sum to arrive at as she performed the calculations in her head. “Don’t forget, I provided you with that education. From my own coffer. So now you’re indebted to me as well.” Then he abruptly slammed the ledger shut, making her jolt. “And dare I remind you why you wanted that education in the first place? So you could master your own…special abilities?”

Evelyn’s blood ran cold at the mention of her resurrection magic—a secret she continued to guard with her life. “Is that why you really want me? To study me like a specimen under a microscope? Exploit my magic to your will?”

The Duke sat back in his chair and wiped the sweat off his neck with his tea napkin like some classless rogue. “You know, Evelyn…people are still being hunted to this day for that very thing. Like witches. And because la famiglia still practices the old ways, I’ve been lenient in exercising punishment for those found wielding it.” He raised a clever eyebrow at her as he watched for her reaction. “You and I both know you’ll never be able to go anywhere in the world without a constant threat over your head. But at least in Azureport, behind the walls of my estate, it would be our little secret. One I can protect you well from.”

“I…I’m still unsure—”

The Duke sighed, his patience lost. “This is the last thing I’ll say about it. Unpaid debts in Fralise are as good as a death sentence. And because I am the Prince’s deputy, I have the authority to issue them as I fancy. I could have let the Crown take your father’s head. Instead, I gave him a fresh start. This is yours.” He stared her down as he snapped his fingers to emphasize his last words. “You can take that as you will. Now sign the contract, Evelyn.”

She was quiet for a moment as she weighed the consequences, her gaze drifting down to the parchment in front of her, already written out in long clauses and heavy typeset.

Legal and binding.

Terminated only at the time of death.

All debts will be expunged.

In accordance with the laws and regulations of the Kingdom of Arleham-Fralise and sanctioned by the Temple of Illmestys.

By order of His Grace, Prince Salvatore XIV.

Terminated at the time of death. Her entire future stripped bare.

Yet this would free her family from their life of labor. It might mean her father could sober up and have his looming alcoholism treated. Her parents would never have to toil in the vineyard or at the market again. Her sisters might have the same opportunities for a livelihood that she had. And it was an assurance that they would never have to face the guillotine for their past shame. Including her.

She steeled herself as she took the quill and ink. “I will sign it on one condition: that you grant my wish to withdraw your fleet. If I’m that high-value of a person to you, Uncle, then prove it. Show me you mean nothing but noble and kindhearted ends for those affected by your bloody war.”

The Duke regarded her coolly, then exchanged glances with his purser and his armed guard as he slowly stroked his chin. Then he chuckled to himself as he twisted his signet ring around his finger. “Very well. You have my word.”

“Truly?” A little ray of hope shone through Evelyn’s fear as she twisted the quill between her fingers, praying harder than she’d ever prayed that he would honor it.

“Yes, Tesora. You are, after all, my favorite. And you’re wise beyond your years to be so concerned with the fate of your fellow countrymen.” He gave her a mirthless wink. “Sign the contract.”

She took a heaving breath, sent one last petition to Illmestys, then scrawled her name with a tremulous hand next to the embossed seal of the phoenix. Perhaps this would be her true renewal—her chance to do something good for her family and the people of Azureport, rising from the ashes to transform into the High Martyr’s blessed virgin. Evelyn was not an impulsive lass— not usually. But in this moment, it felt like the most right thing to do.

“Very good,” the Duke grinned as she passed the parchment back to him so he could sign it behind her. “Master Bianchi will ensure you get your own copy before we leave port. For your records, of course. And I’d get acquainted with Captain Farnese. He’ll be in charge of your retinue in Fabinmore.”

Evelyn’s hand went to her throat. “My retinue? This soon?”

“Of course,” the Duke laughed. “You’re our Holy Vessel now. Of course, you’ll still have your chaperone. But it wouldn’t be prudent for us to let you roam free without protection. Eh, Nico?”

“Aye. A necessary precaution, Revered Sister.” The Duke’s captain tipped his bicorn cap at Evelyn with one hand draped over his pistol holster. He looked older than her, imposing in stature, handsome in face, and armed to the teeth. Not someone she wanted to get too dangerously close to, gods save her.

And once the nasty business was done, the Duke took his leave to visit the guest manor, insisting that he rest before supper. Evelyn waited until he entered the terracotta residence behind the rose garden. Then she wilted onto the chaise lounge as Momma and Poppa watched her with gentle worry.

“Oh, darling. He’s said something awful to you, hasn’t he?” Momma was next to her in the blink of an eye, clasping their hands together. “You look like someone’s sentenced you to death.”

“Ev…do you need to rest? You’re as pale as a ghost.”

“Oh, Momma. Poppa. I’ve done a terrible thing,” she sighed, her eyes welling with tears. “And I don’t think I can take it back. Gods help me.”

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With the ink still drying, Evelyn has bound herself to the villainous Duke. However, she’s about to discover that some contracts have hidden clauses. On Friday, we’ll voyage north to shift to Aisen’s point of view as he navigates the treacherous waters of Fabinmore’s Ton.

Chapter 2 drops in your inbox Friday morning. ⚔️

My Afterthoughts:

Across the characters you’ve met so far, I’ve had the most engagement and questions asked around Evelyn. Will she ever learn to control her powers? Will she take a turn towards darkness? How high do her stakes get? Does she actually become a magical girl at the end?

I’ve loved reading everyone’s theories across my socials, and I think our sweet priestess may surprise you (alas, she does not become Kyubey’s warlock). I thought it might be fun to share some insights as to what inspired me to write the characters and some tidbits of lore about them, so starting with the next post, I’ll be doing just that.

Look forward to it and I’ll see you all on Friday! ✨