"Oh, most of them were killed in a hyperspatial bypass accident when our current Doctor Disaster was just fourteen.  I'm sure he would have been a much more sensible Doctor Disaster if his parents hadn't died so young.  Though, to be clear, some of it must be down to him, plenty of his ancestors had parents who died just as early and they turned out fine.  There's bastards and bastard-descendants galore among the minions, naturally -- why, I'm one-eighth Disaster myself on at least five sides -- but in terms of the main Disaster family, I think old Detrimenta Disaster and her husband are the only survivors whom Doctor Disaster hasn't exiled, or accidentally teleported to the moon, or slain by his bedroom traps when they tried to sneak in to assassinate him.  Perfectly normal Spark dynasty."

Opalyn stares directly into the camera.

Opalyn thinks for a bit if there's anything else she wants from this guy in particular, and can't think of anything. Tihomir is supposed to be sending her several more people, that one shady guy who knows a lot about everything, plus anyone else Tihomir can think of who's in charge of something.

She does want to make sure Jurgis doesn't end up being underfoot, though.

"So, what have you been doing to keep busy since Pereira was fired, then?"

"Just maintaining discipline in a sort of freelance fashion, I suppose.  Someone has to."

"Say more?"

"Just stalking around the castle halls and city streets looking for possible miscreants, giving them stern looks, writing their names down on cards for future secretaries to look at, that sort of thing.  I'm not actually authorized to punish anyone, though I have every confidence that someone will change that soon!  Though Doctor Disaster had all the real punishment pits filled up with concrete the same month he took power, a decision I'm sure he's regretted many times since then."

This is far less terrible than Opalyn feared a moment ago! She should probably encourage this kind of relatively innocuous behavior!

"Okay! Well, thank you for your service to the Glorious Domain of Doctor Disaster! If you like you can continue what you've been doing, and deliver those cards to... do I have a mailbox?"

"I don't think so.  But I could seize the nearest minion and order them to stand outside your quarters to serve as your mailbox, glorious Sultana!"

"No, thank you, please don't do that! I will construct an inert, non-sentient mailbox at some point soon! For now you can just leave the cards in a tidy pile just outside the door of my suite!"

"I hope Doctor Disaster isn't cramping your style too much already, my latest glorious tyranness?"

Oh, gross, is he flirting?

"Oh, no, don't worry about me, I'm fine, thanks!"

"Thank you so much for stopping by," Opalyn says. She gets up and walks to the door and opens it, smiling invitingly for him to go through it.

"Did you still want that list of previously demoted troublemakers?  I wouldn't mind staying here and glowering at your other visitors while I write those down!"

"Yes, I do still want that list, but I don't want to keep you from your very important patrol duties! You can just bring the list by later and leave it with the cards. Have a good day!"

Opalyn's smiles and gestures toward the door are getting more emphatic.

"If such is your imperious command, I'll have the best day ever!"  He marches enthusiastically toward the door.

And Opalyn will close the door behind him and lean against it from the inside, catching her breath.

Is she going to find anyone sane in this world at all? Tihomir wasn't terrible, but he wasn't exactly BFF material. It's going to be pretty lonely here if they're all... "insane" is the first word that comes to Opalyn's mind, but it's something more subtle than that. It's like none of them have any self-awareness or sense of humor.

If she asked what to do about this problem, someone would probably tell her to build herself a talking robot friend and program it to her specifications. That might actually be the answer in this universe but if so it's going to take a while.

She could use a breather, but doesn't want to turn her sign to "Go Away Silently," because she's also pretty hungry and maybe the food will be here soon.

Sure, she can have a two-minute breather.

And then, knock knock again!

That little break helped! She moves away from the door so it can open.

"Yes?"

Dame motherfucking Fleur.  She runs the laundry.  She owns the laundry.  Some whisper that she is the laundry.

"Hello! Thank you for coming to see me!"

Opalyn explains about being new here and so on.

"I hear that your department runs smoothly despite the chaos all around you! How do you manage that?"

Please let it be through kind, careful, and thoughtful management, rather than by exclusively using dark red fabrics and washing them in the blood of her enemies.

Being allowed to wear clothes is a privilege, not a right.

Reducing the flow of incoming work is certainly one way to ensure timely service on the remaining work!

But Opalyn hasn't seen any naked people around the castle so far? What does that imply about the laundry equilibrium?

That people are fast learners.

...well, not in general, but they're fast learners about "which courses of action cause you to end up dressed in nothing but an old curtain you wrapped around yourself".

Dame Fleur has never been one for pussyfooting.  What are Supreme Sultana Opalyn's own opinions about laundry?  That'll determine whether this relationship gets off to a good start.

The Supreme Sultana's opinion is that nothing should be changed about the operation of the laundry, given that it is one of the few departments that actually functions around here!

And in fact, the Supreme Sultana is seeking Dame Fleur's advice on how to improve other departments.

Rule by fear.  Fear of nudity.