My plans to leave the next morning proved impossible in the face of the city’s devastation, sparing only a handful of fortunate residential areas. As I had anticipated, the combined forces of House Alistar and my Paragons overwhelmed the Marquess’s retreating soldiers. By the time I awoke, the Marquess’s entire army was either dead, in chains, or both.
Unfortunately, my actions following the Duke’s death had cemented a new hierarchy in a way I hadn’t foreseen. The field marshals and nearly the entire city became disturbingly dependent, seemingly unable to make a single decision without my express approval. There was also the mess concerning the fact I had a foreign Marquess imprisoned. I was still deciding how I would deal with that.
At first, I thought it stemmed from fear, but as the days passed and I worked with the others to reorganize Sealrite, I realized it came from a place quite opposite to fear. It was as if those around me longed for a purpose beyond mere mortal struggles—a divine purpose and a desire to never stray from heaven's will.
In every sense of the word, it was rather annoying. My status among Lysorian nobles remained unstable as long as I didn’t bring House Alistar underfoot, yet my main leverage was Sealrite and the faith of those within it. Simply abandoning the city would likely prove disastrous, leaving it vulnerable to being reclaimed by some Cael noble in my absence.
I leaned back in the leather chair of the mansion I had commandeered, stretching my arms upward and letting out a frustrated groan. On the other end of my newly acquired, imposing blackwood desk, which was littered with hundreds of documents requiring my signature, stood Dralos and Nasq, their expressions equally bored.
The home I’d temporarily claimed was more gaudy than I had originally wanted, but on that first night, I’d been too tired to search for new lodgings. The luxurious bed had provided the greatest sleep I’d had since arriving in Graedon. The mansion also had running water from a plumbing system I hadn’t known Sealrite possessed, delivering my first hot bath in what felt like ages. It had been the single most refreshing night of my new life.
So, I kept it all.
The manse was three stories tall, with a single flight of stairs at the center of the structure leading to all floors. I hadn’t done much of an inventory of the place, as my room and the office where I’d spent most of the past week were both on the third floor. Fortunately, there was a training area behind the mansion where my Paragons trained daily, most having moved into the building with me. There were more than enough rooms to accommodate them. The ex-slaves were being sorted into their own residences by whoever the field marshals had placed in charge of that task, though they all returned during the day to continue their training.
The office, much to my dismay, had been excessively opulent at first, and I’d needed to strip most of the luxury decorations before feeling remotely comfortable. Some of that opulence remained, but it was mostly for practicality. The room was spacious, with high, arched windows that allowed natural light to flood in each morning and early afternoon, casting warm hues over the polished wood floors and unused furniture. I had removed all the paintings and tapestries from the walls, leaving only a large map of Sealrite on the wall to my right, which was proving beyond useful in tracking my decisions for the city.
Despite removing all the scented candles from the room, it still smelled distinctly of spice and vanilla, occasionally causing me to sneeze.
At the heart of the office, aside from my blackwood desk, were two leather-bound chairs facing me. Beyond them was a large sofa, an adjacent smaller sofa seat, and a circular table for tea or snacks. Three bookshelves flanked the room—two on either side of where I sat, with the third next to the larger sofa. None held any book of interest, mostly containing basic books on merchantry, which might come in handy at some point but were currently useless to me.
“How is the search for a new city lord coming along?” I asked, casting a pointed look at Dralos.
The Draconian grimaced. “Not particularly well. The man you initially encountered—Peter, I believe his name is—seems to be a good fit personality-wise, but his lower rank would make it difficult for him to keep the other nobles in line. And as you know, we cannot simply rid ourselves of the nobles if you wish to maintain their support in overtaking House Alistar. Enough of them were already killed at the... banquet.”
I grunted. It was true. As much as I wished I could simply kill them all and be done with the annoyance, murdering those I should conquer was rather counterproductive. It wouldn’t do much good for me to return to Ordite alone.
“What about successions?” I asked, twirling my quill between my fingers so the feather whipped back and forth.
“I don’t believe the son of the man you killed would care to serve his father’s murderer any more than the rest of us,” Nasq retorted.
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I dismissed his objection with a curt wave. “Yes, yes, I’m aware, Nasq. I wasn’t suggesting I walk in and behead him during a family breakfast.”
“You mean assassination, then, my lady?” Dralos asked, having, like most, adapted to calling me ‘lady’ instead of ‘queen’ while in the company of those not privy to the desires of my Paragons.
“It’s certainly a consideration,” I nodded.
Dralos considered the proposal for only a moment, tilting his chin before quickly shaking his head. “If a rebellion of some sort starts, perhaps. But until then, creating issues within Sealrite’s current ecosystem would mostly hinder your attempts to stabilize the city.”
I grunted again. “When will Brie Ballenci arrive?”
Dralos handed me the scroll of parchment he’d been holding. “According to her initial message, she should be arriving any day now.”
Once I had gained relatively solid control over the city, even if it was nearly wholly reliant on my commands, I had Dralos send a messenger to House Ballenci. From what Dralos had gathered from the nobility in Sealrite, House Ballenci, despite being a fallen house, still possessed some wealth. To my surprise, Sir Boyl Dramas, the knight of one of House Alistar’s subordinate houses, had come forward with information that House Ballenci controlled a small city just on the outskirts of Alistar territory. Duke Alistar, apparently, had a soft spot for fallen nobles and had provided many of them with small territories within or on the outskirts of his own lands.
Instructing Sir Dramas and one of my Paragons, they had set out nearly a week ago on a wyvern toward where House Ballenci had supposedly hunkered down over the decades since its fall.
“I would have thought a wyvern would speed the travel a bit more,” I grumbled, but Dralos could only shrug.
“It is true they should have returned by now. The previous duke traveled a similar distance with an entire squad within hours of being notified,” Nasq said.
“Most of the duke’s soldiers and knights have bronze cores; perhaps, all of them,” Dralos responded. “It makes sense they are able to travel at much faster speeds than a mortal. I’m afraid if a wyvern were to fly at full speed, it would likely render a mortal like Lady Ballenci quickly indisposed.”
“As in, she would die?” Nasq asked, his expression pensive.
Dralos shook his head. “I doubt it would go that far if we stopped quickly, but the sheer pressure of such intense speeds would no doubt cause her to lose consciousness—and possibly the contents of her stomach.”
“And the barrier around Sealrite?” I asked, changing the subject. “Has it been put back in place?”
This time, Nasq answered, as he had taken the lead in rebuilding the magic barrier protecting Sealrite from the surrounding heat and the monsters of the outside desert. “Aye, my lady. We managed to finish it this morning. Short of a beast-king, I believe the new and improved barrier should hold against any barrage of attacks. Fortunately, Duke Alistar chose to disarm it rather than destroy it upon entry, which made the rebuilding process easier.” The sorcerer went on at length about the intricacies of the magic barrier, but despite my interest in magic, I felt my eyes begin to glaze over.
I still hadn’t managed to create even a basic mana reserve, and the frustrations of my inability to advance, combined with the droning nature of paperwork, were quickly eroding what little patience I had left.
In the middle of Nasq’s spiel, I slammed a hand down on the oakwood desk and made a decision. “Dralos,” I said, interrupting the sorcerer. “Instead of trying to find a city lord, focus on rebuilding the council. From what I understand, the Marquess barely interacted with the daily functions of Sealrite anyway. Install Peter as the first council member, instruct the field marshals to decide which of them will represent the army, add two or three of the nobles, and then one or two representatives of the people. Work fast. Once I speak with Lady Ballenci, I will be leaving. The longer I’m stalled here, the harder it will be to take down House Alistar. We must act before they install another duke.”
Dralos nodded. “There should still be time, as no heir can truly take his predecessor’s place without the King’s blessing. However, I shall obey your command.” With a deep bow that nearly bent him in half, Dralos exited the room with purpose.
“Any word from Ethan?” I asked, turning to Nasq.
The sorcerer shook his head. “Not since I left him to return to you. He’s still chasing her.”
“The fool,” I muttered. “She came to us that day. She’ll return. There’s no need to chase her beyond the city walls.”
Nasq shrugged. “It’s part of his purpose. By conspiring with Cael to kidnap and enslave, the entire Holy Kingdom is now in Ethan’s path of destruction. With the Red Cardinal so close by, there’s no way he’ll give up the chase.” He chuckled. “Even if she kills him, I’m sure he’ll force himself back from the dead. That man has a will like I’ve never seen before.” Nasq paused, glancing at me. “Well, perhaps a will I’ve only seen once before.”
“I should have learned more about how the Duke linked his soldiers to the House Coin,” I said, leaning back in the chair again. “Marquess Sharma proved particularly unhelpful in that area.”
“Still no luck in creating a mana reserve?” Nasq asked. “Even with the help of a high-level sorcerer like the Marquess?”
“Are you trying to anger me, Nasq?”
The paragon smirked but shook his head. “Of course not. I’m simply surprised.”
“You need to spend less time around Nida,” I said with an eyeroll. “Her personality is rubbing off on you. What happened to the shy, demure sorcerer who followed me to save his brother?”
“He died when his brother died as a slave,” Nasq answered, his eyes on the ground, filled with a rare hatred. His jaw clenched, and the tips of his pointed ears drooped ever so slightly—a sign of great anger in his race. Elves. Much like Nida’s race and their innate physical prowess, I was intrigued by the magic prowess generally assumed in elves.
Once I had secured my position in Lysoria, I would need to spend some time visiting the homes of other races.
I stood, pushing the chair back against the wall with the backs of my knees, and placed both hands on the table as I looked at Nasq. “Let’s head down to the fields. This work is exhaustingly boring, and I’d like to see what the Marquess is teaching you in exchange for his daughter’s life.”
Nasq’s frown quickly shifted into a grin. “It won’t end as fast as last time.”
“We’ll see.”