Far away from the glamour of the inner city, a disobedient lordling was being punished. Despite being one of the few normal humans to be granted his own land, Mayor Geier's estates were in arrears on their rent; without a magical girl to harvest Grief Seeds, the town instead produced smelted iron for the city's reconstruction work and was therefore vital to the continued viability of the Aurora City Authority. Unfortunately for the good Mayor, this meant that any late deliveries would not be looked upon kindly.
'... and so by the decree of Her Ladyship Alexandra Hertz, Lord of Aurora and associated territories, I hereby sentence you to ten years hard labour.' The poor man begged for clemency as a pair of burly militiamen dragged him away, eliciting a tired sigh from his judge. Chasing up taxes wasn't his usual area of expertise and it dragged him down. 'The next mayor will be chosen by the City Authority; in the meantime, a magical girl will be dispatched to the area to oversee production. Obey her. Dismissed.' He left his speech short as he stared out over the massed population of the town, finding the glum mood somewhat to his satisfaction. These people were little more than serfs, tied to the land and foundries; a low ranked magi would have little trouble keeping them in line and might even snag herself the odd Witch. For him though, the morning's work was done. Calling up his handful of troops, the officer began the long journey back to the city.
It always amazed Kolya how varied the city was. One could walk for half an hour in either direction and pass though modern parks, into rotting slums and then elegant high-rise flats. Aurora was a true metropolis, if a small one. Leaving his guards outside, he entered Hertz' private building, a particularly massive skyscraper in the centre of the city. If nothing else, she had a good eye for décor. Kolya ignored the stylish architecture and such, preferring instead to see to building for what it was; a statement of power, proof of exactly who ruled this city. In days past, the former administration had preferred a more subtle centre of operations, but he appreciated the need to grandstand in the face of constant encroachment from rival magi, not to mention the ever-present threat posed by traditional nation-states. Before long he arrived at his mistresses' door and gave a sharp rap on the woodwork. 'My Lady, Lukoshenko with the taxation and border reports.' He wasn't sure if she was aware of the change in management at the former Mayor's estates, but he also had other issues that required her attention.