Nicholas Lyns, marquis of the same name, at present, and soon to be crowned king, considered himself no one’s fool. He could not have come as far as he had if he was.

Still, he was compelled to admit, if only to himself, that bringing his country back from the brink of ruin where it currently seemed to be teetering into the prosperity he wanted for it might take brilliance of a kind he did not possess. The war had been waged for too long, too many soldiers killed and too many men with other skills conscripted or enlisted for money, the trade routes disrupted too strongly and the influence of foreigners risen too much for it to be a simple task.

He stood close to winning the war, but it seemed the closer he got to being finally crowned king the more he realized it would not be the end, far from it.

It would have been enough to make him wish for better terms with his daughter, if nothing else was. Kiara clearly had an eye for this, even if the way she went about it was worrying. But they were not, he had to admit, truly in a position where he could simply ask for her help in this without ulterior motives. It irritated him, that he could not simply take his daughter’s advice - who he had, after all, trained as his heir for years - for granted. But she would not guilelessly support the man who, in the end, planned to depose her for his son, he realized that, and she had never been stupid. The more information he gave her, the more she could use for her own benefit, and he disliked the thought of exposing his weaknesses.

For the hundredth time, he asked himself if he was truly doing the right thing. But even if I accept a female heir, even when I have a son, that does not mean everyone will. Most lords never would, after all. Mother learned that, to her chagrin and bitterness. Better not to give her false hope now and widen the break then. Besides, she’s already too rebellious, too insubordinate … and there are her ties to the Hive. He could not, would not simply hand Cernlia over to those nonhumans, however civilized they might be, and he feared for what Kiara might do if she was in a position to do it.

At present, he snapped shut the ledger he was currently looking at after thinking about the issue for a minute, then leaned back in his chair, tried to loosen his shoulders, and stood. The Kiara situation, especially the Hive’s interest, was certainly an ongoing issue, but he was not going to find a solution to it by staring at books in his office.

At least Bluegrass and the others were still as reliable as always in preparing their next offensive. It was, in actuality, more journeying into the east of the country, with very little organized resistance to be found. Or resistance at all, he hoped. By now, everyone seemed to have realized he was the next king.

The thought let him smile, and as they often did these days his thoughts drifted to his coronation. They had set a tentative date yesterday, and he was looking forward to it. At the end of this route, the army would go back to the capital, where he could finally be properly made king. It would be good to get rid of this uncertainty and ambiguity.

Although he’d have to make a final decision on the name soon. In a way, it amused him that he hadn’t been able to decide whether to call himself Nicholas the Third or Nicholas the Fourth yet. The Fourth would legitimize his predecessor, who was obviously an actual king even if he was a bastard in character, but it might make trouble with those who were sticklers for the rules with his claim. After all, he’d rebelled against a proper king. Calling himself the Third and ignoring his cousin’s reign would appear very disrespectful and most likely annoy a lot more people, however. He’d probably have to choose the former option.

Instead of worrying further about the depleted coffers propped up only by the Hive’s gold, or the rising unrest that came of mercenaries leaving now that the war was ending and then being out of work, he focused on planning the coronation for a while. It wouldn’t do to be too traditional or too modern. He’d probably have to have that dunce Cern play a role, but he could minimize it. No specific invocation of the gods, just a general blessing; if even half of what he’d picked up from the Hive Queen and her circle was true, he was best served staying as far away as possible from that potential wildfire.

Not that he minded, Nicholas Lyns had always been a less than entirely devout man. He’d had hopes, before, that he might actually wrangle an alliance with the Delvers, but now it appeared they preferred the Hivekind girl-queen. Well, maybe June would actually manage to forge a connection there. He frowned at the thought.

He’d have to be very careful about asking for his wife and children back, but he did want Florance with him when he was crowned. And the sooner he got them back into the safety provided by his own men, the better.

Any moment one of his heirs was in foreign, nonhuman, hands was a humiliation. If he hadn’t been desperate for help when he made the agreement …

The thought carried him through the next few hours, when he finally let his ledgers rest and instead met with several ambassadors and assorted diplomats. The Esemen had been particularly present lately, making a show of being pleasant, but they were not the only ones. He liked the reminder that his was starting to be seen as the legitimate court of Cernlia, as the obvious address for political matters with no other contenders. Quite a few men hesitantly tried to broker trade deals for the future as if they were entirely assured he would be able to hold to and implement them. And why not? I will, after all. Cernlia could use it. The rise in levels following a war, he knew, would generally act as a small boost to a country’s fortunes in the aftermath, allowing some feats that would have previously been out of reach or too costly, and often resulted in an increase in their merchant traffic as a consequence. Mobility Skills were not only useful in war, as was the ability to fight monsters or shape the terrain. It was a reassurance for his concerns, even if he knew the effect would not be enough, not by itself.

Eventually, he did what he had known he would not be able to avoid. Several of the assembled lords and envoys he had seen had already sent questioning looks around the manor and its surroundings, and there was little reasonable justification to not simply increase the security measures if there was a genuine concern. So, he sent several of his knights he was confident remained loyal to impress on her the need for discretion, and quiet composure. He knew she was at least able to play the demure young lady.

When Kiara finally arrived, after what felt like far too long a wait, she at least appeared to have taken it to heart. She still wore loose trousers and a tunic instead of a dress, but it had almost become her signature now and she looked vaguely martial, prepared for the war that was still being fought, which was an acceptable impression to cultivate. Her hair had been done nicely and she wore some jewelry, a few rings glittering on her fingers, a bracelet of electrum and a necklace set with a precious stone which he had only seen once before. It gave the understated impression of wealth, denying the actual state of his coffers, and for that, he approved.

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“Father,” she said quietly, curtseying as she joined him, her head lowered, not meeting his gaze.

“Kiara,” he responded softly, then held out his arm. She took it without visible hesitation and they turned to face their guests.

It was not an official party, which would have been tasteless to hold at this moment, but it was not too far off. Lords and ladies from his following mingled with foreign ones, and even a few wealthier merchants. He had been in one place long enough now for something approaching a court to gather around him, and many would remain even when the army resumed its march on the campaign tomorrow.

As they started to work the room, he noted the speculative glances thrown their way, the people watching him with his daughter. He kept her hand firmly anchored and proceeded to smile and exchange pleasantries with his guests, pretending to be charmed and proud when they complimented her. Kiara played her role well, letting him take the lead and following his conversational cues. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought she was trying to get back into his good graces.

It was hard to tell what she was thinking under her pleasant mask. She would make a good princess, he had to begrudgingly admit. But still, she was clearly not entirely focused on the conversations, a fact that became clear when her focus did sharpen, after half an hour of making slow rounds of the gathering. She obviously paid attention to the Esemen ambassadors; he supposed she might be slightly dismayed there were so many, and that they had what appeared to be an honored position. After all, the Esemen had invaded not just Nerlia but also Cernlia, even if it had not affected him (or her) very much. He wondered if the Hive might carry a grudge. The year-long truce the Hive Queen had negotiated for all of them certainly came in handy, and it was not the Esemen who would profit the most from it. His position would also only get stronger, of course. And he saw no reason to carry a grudge, not over something that barely happened, not when the relationship to this country — any outside the Hive, really — could be so crucial.

As such, he made a special effort to be kind and charming to the Esemen ambassador, and made sure Kiara knew to do the same. She seemed a little reluctant, but was at least pleasantly polite to the men. She even asked after the health of her former intended, which he had to make an effort not to smile about. Instead, he attempted to gently guide the conversation to linger on this topic.

Eventually, the evening wound down. It had been rather stressful. While he could not keep Kiara on his arm all the time, he did attempt to keep an eye on her as much as he could. She was always within reach of at least one of his more reliable supporters, which he knew the shrewder among the guests had not missed, but there was nothing for it. She did meet and talk to several men he knew would count among her supporters, but there was nothing to be done about that, either. He could hardly keep Duke Bluegrass from speaking with his soon-to-be princess. The duke was already becoming less tractable, but his stature and almost impeccable reputation among the other lords ensured Lyns could not simply shuffle him aside.

As soon as most of the guests left, he stepped up to his daughter, took her arm again and led her to the door. Instead of trying to balk at it, which he had almost expected, Kiara seemed eager. She managed to almost pull him into a side chamber, where she turned to face him with a smile that looked only slightly forced.

“I take it you have something you want to discuss with me,” he said drily, not suppressing the amusement that leaked into his words.

“You could say that, Father,” she answered with a quick smile. Then it faded and a serious, almost solemn look took its place. “I wanted to ask you about the food shipments for the refugees seeking shelter from the war. I realize there are less of them to take care of now, but winter is approaching and the granaries are empty.” She hesitated. “I heard the supplies were not given out any longer.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. I should have known it would be this. “Yes, unfortunately,” he said, not bothering to deny it or play word games. “As you pointed out, the granaries are almost empty and we have to institute and increase rationing.”

“But surely something can still be done?” she pressed. “The Hive is still sending food, isn’t it? People still have private stores as well. Not everything was looted by the soldiers, far from it.”

“We do have an army to feed, in case you missed it, Kiara. It will already be difficult to give them full rations until the next harvest, and our soldiers need to be fully fit to wage war.”

She frowned deeply. “They are our citizens, Father. We have a responsibility to care for them. We cannot let them starve, no matter what our predecessors might have done. Surely we can spare some resources, task some of the mages and specialists in the army to increase crop yield, or ask to buy more from the Hive and our other neighbors.”

“We are already importing all that I am comfortable with,” he answered, irritated. “And the shopkeepers and shepherds are not helping us fight the war and bring peace to Cernlia.”

“We’ve as good as won the war, Father! The army is more than strong enough to mop up what’s left. We could easily split it into smaller detachments to help with logistics. Besides, it’s the common people who are the backbone of Cernlia’s economy, and if we ever want to get out of the current crisis, they need to be able to live and work without going hungry.”

“They will, and if a few go hungry it is a price we will be forced to pay. The soldiers are the priority. The peasants know to look after themselves.”

“Father, I cannot countenance this,” Kiara said, narrowing her eyes.

He resisted the sudden urge to slap her. “It is not your place to countenance anything I do, Kiara,” he said sternly. “I am your father. You will follow my orders and not question me.”

“Or what, you’ll do away with me too?” she muttered, eyes sliding away from him to the side.

He clenched his teeth. “Do not speak nonsense,” he grit out.

She glanced up at him again, meeting his eyes, and he knew his words did not sound as strong as he wished.

“What about today, then?” she asked, suddenly changing the subject. “Was there a reason you pushed me to make nice with all those Esemen lords who suddenly appeared at your new court?”

He sighed and gave in to the temptation to rub the bridge of his nose again. “They’re valued guests, despite recent unpleasantness. We can hardly afford more enemies.”

She cocked her head. “You can’t still be hanging on to the betrothal?”

His teeth ground together again. He knew he should leave it, should not have this conversation right now. But she had riled him, gotten under his skin.

“Your future marriage is also mine to arrange to make sure you are cared for,” he said evenly. “The younger Esemen prince has renewed his proposal, and he makes a most impressive suitor. The High Shaman has already commissioned an Architect to build a summer estate for you as a gift for the wedding.”

“In Esemen? You want to send me away?!”

“If you marry the prince, you will go to join your husband, of course.”

She stared at him. Of all things, he read betrayal in her eyes, almost as strongly as when they’d argued over the food issue. “I can’t believe it —“ she whispered.

“You only need to do as you are told,” he interrupted, letting his annoyance get the better of him again. “You will be escorted to your rooms and held under guard until it is time for you to do your duty.”

Kiara did not say anything after that. He hoped she was coming to terms with it and would learn to acquiesce to his will.