The storm finally eased soti before morning.
Not completely. The north never truly beca calm during winter. But the winds weakened enough that people could work without feeling like the mountains themselves were trying to skin them alive.
For Elarion, that counted as good weather.
By sunrise the settlent had already returned to motion.
Workers hauled timber across the lower roads while smoke rolled steadily upward from the furnace district. Sowhere near the eastern wall, two guards argued over whether watered wine should legally count as a cri against humanity.
"It tastes like sadness."
"It tastes cheap, there’s a difference."
"It offended spiritually."
The second guard pointed toward the wall stairs.
"Then spiritually get back to patrol."
Not far away, rchants were unloading grain sacks while a pair of dwarves loudly insulted human hamring techniques for no reason anyone could identify.
Seraphin Vale watched all of it quietly from the administrative hall balcony.
The territory breathed.
That was the unsettling part.
Nothing here resembled a dying exile domain.
Lucas Marcus stepped onto the balcony a mont later carrying two cups of heated tea. Steam curled upward into the freezing air.
"You’ve been standing there awhile," the administrator said while offering one of the cups.
Seraphin accepted it after a short pause.
"Habit."
Lucas nodded slightly like he understood that answer better than expected.
For a while neither man spoke.
Below them, the settlent continued moving through its morning rhythm.
A woman chased after a child trying to steal bread from a supply cart.
One of the workers slipped on ice and imdiately blad the snow itself like it had betrayed him personally.
Soone shouted: "WHO STACKED TAL NEXT TO THE COAL?"
A distant voice answered: "IT LOOKED BALANCED!"
Lucas closed his eyes briefly.
"That’s going to beco my problem in about three minutes."
Seraphin almost smiled into the steam rising from his cup.
Almost.
"You seem busy."
Lucas gave a tired laugh.
"My Lord rebuilt a dead territory in the middle of winter. Busy stopped aning anything weeks ago."
Interesting phrasing.
Not we rebuilt.
My Lord rebuilt.
Loyalty again.
Seraphin leaned lightly against the frozen stone railing.
"The reports from the capital described this place very differently."
Lucas looked down toward the settlent.
"The capital hasn’t seen the north in years."
"That doesn’t answer the question."
"No," Lucas admitted calmly, "it doesn’t."
At least he was honest about avoiding answers.
The investigator studied the valley again.
New roads.
Fresh wall reinforcents.
Active patrol rotations.
Efficient supply movent.
None of it happened accidentally.
"You’ve expanded quickly."
"We had to."
Lucas took a sip from his own cup before continuing.
"First winter attack nearly broke the outer defenses. Then food beca an issue. Then heating. Then storage."
A faint smile touched his face.
"After the third disaster everyone stopped pretending we had ti to move slowly."
That sounded believable.
More importantly—
It sounded human.
Not polished noble rhetoric. Just exhaustion mixed with stubborn survival.
Seraphin finally glanced sideways toward him.
"You trust Lucien Valcroix a great deal."
Lucas was quiet for a mont after that.
Long enough that the sounds below them filled the silence naturally.
Hamring.
Voices.
Snow crunching beneath boots.
Then he answered.
"When I arrived here, the territory was dying."
His tone remained calm.
"Not dramatically. Just slowly enough that nobody outside the north would care."
The administrator rested both hands against the balcony railing.
"My Lord could’ve hidden inside the fortress and survived comfortably enough for a few years."
Another pause.
"He didn’t."
Seraphin listened carefully.
Lucas looked out over the valley while speaking.
"He walked the supply routes himself during the first snowstorms. Helped repair walls with the workers. Ate the sa food everyone else did because there wasn’t enough to waste."
The investigator frowned slightly.
"That doesn’t sound like the Lucien Valcroix described in noble records."
A short laugh escaped Lucas.
"It doesn’t sound like the one I expected either."
That answer lingered between them for several seconds.
Because it felt genuine.
Dangerously genuine.
A horn echoed from the lower gate suddenly.
Both n looked down instinctively.
Another rchant convoy was arriving.
The gates opened slowly while guards checked cargo under falling snow.
Seraphin noticed sothing imdiately.
The guards moved well.
Not elite.
But disciplined.
More disciplined than frontier troops normally beca.
"You train them hard."
Lucas followed his gaze.
"The north punishes mistakes."
"That isn’t military training."
"No," Lucas admitted. "That’s Malen."
The na registered instantly.
Peak Knight.
Summoned or recruited sohow by Lucien.
Another inconsistency.
The investigator exhaled quietly.
"The deeper I look into this territory, the less sense it makes."
Lucas smiled faintly into his tea.
"Welco to Elarion."
Before Seraphin could respond—
A loud explosion echoed sowhere toward the western industrial district.
Both n froze.
A second later, black smoke rose into the sky.
Then ca shouting.
"Oh for the love of—"
Lucas handed his unfinished tea to Seraphin and imdiately started walking toward the stairs.
"That sounds expensive."
The investigator followed without hesitation.
By the ti they reached the western district, workers were already scrambling around one partially collapsed stone workshop while several dwarves shouted over each other in complete chaos.
"I SAID LESS POWDER!"
"YOU SAID MORE PRESSURE!"
"I SAID CONTROLLED PRESSURE!"
One soot-covered dwarf pointed angrily toward the crater in the workshop wall.
"THEN EXPLAIN THAT!"
Nearby, Gandalf stood in the middle of the disaster looking deeply offended by physics itself.
"The calculations were correct."
Malen stared at the destroyed wall.
"The wall disagrees."
Several workers noticed Lucas approaching and imdiately tried to look productive despite the smoke and debris everywhere.
Lucas stopped beside the crater and inhaled slowly.
"...What exploded this ti?"
Gandalf adjusted his robes with as much dignity as a man covered in ash could manage.
"Experintal heating compression."
One of the dwarves muttered: "It beca experintal flight."
Seraphin looked carefully around the damaged workshop.
Burn marks.
tal fragnts.
A strange sulfur-like scent lingering faintly in the air.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The investigator crouched near part of the shattered floor before picking up a blackened fragnt of tal tube.
Not natural forge damage.
Behind him, Lucas noticed imdiately.
A tiny flicker of tension crossed the administrator’s face before disappearing.
Seraphin noticed that too.
The investigator turned the fragnt slowly in his hand.
Then calmly asked:
"...What exactly are you people building out here?"
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