For a few seconds after Seraphin asked the question, nobody answered.
Snow drifted lazily through the open section of the damaged workshop while smoke continued curling upward from the shattered furnace pit nearby. One exhausted worker was still trying to stamp out a burning tarp with increasingly personal hatred.
The dwarf helping him pointed accusingly toward Gandalf.
"This is his fault."
The old mage looked offended imdiately.
"Progress always appears dangerous to lesser minds."
"The roof exploded!"
"A temporary architectural disagreent."
Malen rubbed his forehead.
Lucas, anwhile, focused entirely on the royal investigator still holding the blackened tal fragnt.
Calm.
Too calm.
That was the dangerous part about Seraphin Vale. He didn’t behave like a man chasing answers emotionally. He simply observed things until they stopped making sense.
And right now—
Too many things had stopped making sense.
Lucas stepped forward smoothly before the silence beca suspicious.
"Heating pressure experints."
Seraphin glanced toward him.
"That answer sounds intentionally vague."
"Because the workshop is intentionally vague."
One of the dwarves snorted loudly at that.
Lucas ignored him.
The investigator looked back toward the damaged structure.
"What kind of heating pressure destroys stone walls?"
"An incorrect amount," Gandalf answered before anyone else could speak.
Seraphin blinked once.
The old mage straightened slightly, beard still carrying ash.
"Science is a staircase built from failure."
Malen muttered under his breath: "At this rate we’ll reach the heavens next week."
A couple workers laughed nervously.
The atmosphere loosened slightly after that, though Seraphin noticed sothing important imdiately:
Nobody here seed frightened of Lucas.
Or even of Lucien.
Respectful, yes.
Loyal, definitely.
But not terrified.
That was unusual for frontier territories ruled by nobles.
The investigator slowly handed the tal fragnt back.
"You experint often?"
Gandalf looked genuinely confused.
"How else would experintation function?"
"...Fair point."
The younger investigator accompanying Seraphin crouched beside the crater afterward.
"There’s sulfur residue."
Lucas answered without hesitation.
"Mining shipnts."
"Mixed into furnace work?"
"We’re trying to improve fuel efficiency."
Not entirely false.
Which made the answer difficult to challenge directly.
Seraphin walked slowly through the ruined workshop afterward while workers carefully avoided getting in his way. His eyes moved over everything:
reinforced tables
heavy molds
unusual tal shaping tools
stacks of charcoal
strange barrel-like components partially hidden beneath cloth sheets
The territory was building sothing.
That much was obvious now.
The question remained: weapons or industry?
Possibly both.
One younger worker accidentally bumped into Seraphin while carrying tools.
"S-Sorry!"
The investigator steadied the falling equipnt automatically before handing it back.
The boy looked barely sixteen.
Thin. Exhausted. Nervous.
But when he spoke again—
"Please don’t shut the workshops down, my Lord."
That caught Seraphin’s attention imdiately.
The boy realized what he’d said and panicked slightly.
"I an—I just—"
Lucas stepped in gently.
"Breathe, Tomas."
The worker swallowed hard before nodding quickly.
Seraphin looked between them.
"Why would the workshops be shut down?"
The boy hesitated before answering carefully.
"Because before Lord Lucien ca..."
His voice lowered slightly.
"...nobody fixed anything."
Silence settled briefly around the damaged workshop.
Even the dwarves stopped arguing for once.
The worker scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
"The old administrators mostly stayed inside the fortress. Winter would co, walls would break, people would die..."
Another pause.
"That was just normal."
Seraphin listened quietly.
The boy pointed weakly toward the furnaces.
"Now there’s work."
Then toward the repaired roads outside.
"Food arrives on ti."
Then toward the outer walls.
"And the patrols actually protect people."
The young worker looked embarrassed after speaking so much.
"Sorry. I talk too much when nervous."
One dwarf nearby barked a laugh.
"That’s better than talking too much while drunk."
"That was one ti!"
"YOU FOUGHT A BARREL."
"The barrel started it."
Sohow the argunt beca louder imdiately.
Seraphin ignored them.
Because the worker’s words bothered him more than the explosion.
Not politically.
Personally.
This territory genuinely believed Lucien saved it.
That kind of loyalty could not be manufactured quickly.
Which ant one uncomfortable possibility:
The "worthless heir" described in noble society may never have existed at all.
The thought stayed with him longer than he liked.
Lucas finally clapped his hands once.
"Alright. Enough standing around staring at destruction."
He pointed toward the damaged wall.
"Repair teams."
Toward Gandalf.
"You’re banned from touching explosive materials until tomorrow."
The old mage looked outraged.
"That restriction is tyrannical."
"You vaporized a ceiling."
"A minor ceiling."
Malen muttered: "There are pieces of that ceiling in another district."
Even Seraphin’s younger companion laughed quietly at that.
Lucas sighed deeply.
"This territory will kill before winter beasts manage it."
"Probably," Malen agreed imdiately.
The administrator looked genuinely betrayed.
"You weren’t supposed to answer that so quickly."
The conversation drifted naturally after that while workers resud moving through the damaged workshop. So began clearing debris while others restarted furnace operations almost imdiately despite the destruction.
Life continued.
That kept unsettling Seraphin.
Nothing here behaved like a staged performance prepared for royal inspection.
It felt too lived-in.
Too chaotic.
Too real.
And sowhere beneath all of it—
Sothing was hidden.
The investigator could feel it now.
Not through evidence.
Instinct.
As the group began leaving the workshop district, Seraphin slowed slightly beside Lucas.
"One question."
The administrator glanced toward him.
"Mm?"
Seraphin looked back once toward the workers repairing the destroyed structure.
"Why do they trust him this much?"
Lucas was quiet for a mont.
Long enough that snow gathered lightly across both their shoulders.
Then he answered simply:
"Because he stayed."
The investigator frowned slightly.
Lucas looked toward the distant fortress above the valley.
"Most nobles would’ve abandoned this place ntally the mont they were exiled here."
Another pause.
"My Lord didn’t."
Simple answer.
But human answers usually were simple.
Far above the valley anwhile, hidden beyond thick storm clouds—
Golden eyes watched the settlent below with growing boredom.
Aurethar yawned massively while circling through the sky.
Then paused.
Because several unfamiliar royal escort patrols were traveling near the western ridges.
The dragon’s eyes narrowed slightly.
And sowhere deep beneath Elarion’s ancient ruins—
Sothing sealed in darkness stirred faintly for the first ti in centuries.
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