Lucian Veilwood never wanted responsibility. He had perfected the fine art of doing just enough to pass as competent while ensuring no one ever expected much from him. His greatest ambition in life? A quiet, uneventful existence where he could sleep until noon and avoid anything resembling effort.

Which is why, when the Emperor himself assigned Lucian as the Lord of Duskwatch County, he was convinced there had been a mistake.

"Duskwatch? That abandoned wasteland at the edge of the empire? That Duskwatch?" Lucian had asked, half-hoping someone would correct the clerical error.

The royal messenger, a stiff-backed bureaucrat with the personality of damp parchment, merely nodded. "Yes, Lord Veilwood. His Majesty has deemed it appropriate for you to oversee its restoration."

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Restoration? That implied the place was worth fixing. Lucian recalled vague rumors about Duskwatch—bad soil, frequent bandit raids, and a tax system so convoluted that even the Imperial Treasury had given up on collecting dues. In short, the kind of place no sane noble wanted to govern.

Lucian sighed. He had two choices: refuse the position and risk angering the Emperor (a famously short-tempered man), or accept the role and pray that the county was so far gone that no one would care what he did there.

The latter seemed less likely to result in execution. Barely.

"Fine," he said. "I’ll take it. But don’t expect miracles."

The messenger bowed and left, leaving Lucian to pack for what he expected to be the most miserable experience of his life.

Little did he know, his half-hearted attempts to avoid responsibility were about to make him the most legendary ruler Duskwatch had ever seen.