My translation stuff

Greggs Georgia, ruler of Peasbury, had just come across the most difficult choice of his life. “What did they say?” he asked his secretary. “They’re equally divided on which side you should take. They do, however, unanimously urge you to stay out of this war.” “Yet again they ask me to do the impossible. I should be accustomed to it by now.” Hands clasped before his face, Greggs closed his eyes and lost himself in thought. Greggs’s money came from the taxes he imposed on business owners in the Central District, and his power from the nobles and landowners living in the North District (Greggs had been one of them, once). Peasbury depended, in an essential manner, on the support of the nearby farming villages to function. In a city-state such as the Peasbury of old, each member of the nobility held an inordinate amount of power. They didn’t defer to the ruler but merely acknowledged him as their representative. Greggs was not their king. Because of that, mediating their interests was a c...

When Stella returned to the store from her morning exercise, Rye was waiting for her with the same troubled expression as the day before. I’m too spent for this , Stella thought. She pretended to be a customer in an attempt to slip past the new guest unnoticed, but unfortunately, he caught her in the act. “Good morning, Lady Stella,” he said. “You’re the owner of this establishment, I believe?” “Owner? Who, me? Sorry, you have the wrong person.” “No, he doesn’t,” Varrell said, grabbing Stella by the shoulder before she could leave. “Come on, Stella. Rye did all she could to stall him until you came back. Now it’s up to you.” “And why didn’t you help her?” “Because I’m an adult, and my interference here would have made things worse. I’m supposed to stand and watch, like a good bodyguard.” He folded his arms indifferently. His sword was the only part of him that was useful, apparently.  “Where’s Typica?” Stella asked. “I sent her out to do some shopping. This is a tight enough knot a...