The snowstorm returned during the night.
By morning the outer roads had nearly disappeared again beneath thick layers of white while freezing winds rattled against the fortress walls hard enough to wake half the settlent before sunrise.
Inside the upper administrative halls, however, warmth and light still remained.
Mostly because nobody had slept properly.
Lucas sat buried beneath reports near the central table while three separate clerks argued over grain allocation numbers nearby.
"We already counted these."
"No, you counted these."
"That is literally what I just said."
A fourth clerk looked monts away from resigning from existence entirely.
At the far end of the room, Malen stood near the windows watching patrol movents below while Gandalf quietly drank tea beside the furnace.
The old mage looked unusually relaxed for once.
Which ant he was probably planning sothing dangerous.
Lucas noticed imdiately.
"No."
Gandalf blinked.
"I have not spoken."
"You have the expression."
"What expression?"
"The one before explosions."
Malen snorted quietly.
The doors opened before the argunt could continue.
A knight stepped inside and bowed quickly.
"Royal Investigator Vale requests another eting."
The room beca slightly quieter.
Lucas exhaled slowly.
"Of course he does."
Malen crossed his arms.
"He’s persistent."
"He’s competent," Lucien’s voice answered calmly from the upper staircase.
Everyone looked up.
Lucien descended slowly into the chamber dressed in dark winter clothing lined with silver fur while several docunts rested beneath one arm. He still maintained the appearance of recovery well enough: slightly pale skin, controlled movents, traces of lingering exhaustion.
But compared to the broken exile who first arrived in the north—
The difference was impossible to ignore.
Lucas straightened slightly.
"My Lord."
Lucien nodded once before walking toward the central table.
"He suspects more than he says."
Malen frowned.
"Then perhaps we should stop entertaining his questions."
"No."
Lucien set the docunts down calmly.
"If we avoid him now, suspicion becos certainty."
Gandalf stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"The investigator is intelligent. But not hostile."
"Not yet," Lucas muttered.
Fair point.
Lucien moved toward the window overlooking the valley below.
Workers already moved through the snow despite the weather while smoke continued rising steadily from the western furnaces.
Alive.
The territory truly looked alive now.
And because of that—
It had beco impossible to hide forever.
Lucien understood that clearly.
The knight near the doorway hesitated slightly before speaking again.
"My Lord... Investigator Vale specifically requested to et you this ti."
Silence.
Lucas closed his eyes briefly.
"Well," he muttered, "that was inevitable."
Malen looked toward Lucien carefully.
"You don’t have to."
"I know."
But refusing repeatedly would create more problems than appearing briefly.
Lucien thought quietly for several monts afterward.
Then nodded once.
"Prepare the lower audience chamber."
Lucas blinked.
"You’re actually eting him?"
"Yes."
The administrator looked genuinely surprised for a second before recovering.
"...Should I be worried?"
"Probably."
"That answer is deeply unhelpful."
Gandalf chuckled softly into his tea.
An hour later, the audience chamber beneath the main fortress had been prepared.
Nothing extravagant.
Lucien intentionally kept the room modest: warm lighting, practical furnishings, maps along the walls, a smaller hearth instead of noble luxury.
Elarion wasn’t pretending to be a grand capital.
And he didn’t want Seraphin distracted by appearances.
The investigator entered alongside his younger companion shortly afterward.
Seraphin’s expression remained controlled as always.
But Lucien noticed the brief flicker in his eyes imdiately.
Recognition.
Because Lucien did not resemble the man described in official records.
The investigator bowed slightly.
"Lord Lucien."
Lucien returned the gesture politely.
"Investigator Vale."
For a mont neither man spoke.
The fire crackled softly between them while snow brushed against the fortress windows outside.
Then Seraphin finally said:
"You look healthier than expected."
Lucas nearly died internally hearing the opening sentence.
Lucien, however, simply smiled faintly.
"The north encourages recovery through suffering."
To the side, Malen coughed suspiciously into his fist to hide amusent.
Seraphin’s younger companion looked between them uncertainly, clearly trying to determine whether that counted as humor.
The investigator sat after Lucien gestured toward the chairs.
"I appreciate you agreeing to et."
Lucien folded his hands calmly.
"You traveled far enough that refusal would’ve been rude."
Interesting answer.
Seraphin studied him carefully now.
Lucien spoke calmly, without hesitation or arrogance. Nothing about him matched the image of a passive failed heir.
More importantly—
His eyes were sharp.
Alert.
A ruler’s eyes.
The investigator finally spoke again.
"The territory has changed significantly under your leadership."
Lucien glanced briefly toward the maps lining the walls.
"It needed to."
"That level of growth normally takes years."
"The north doesn’t care about normal timing."
Again—
Reasonable answers.
Seraphin leaned back slightly afterward.
"I’ve spoken with your people."
Lucien’s expression didn’t change.
"And?"
"They trust you."
A quieter silence settled afterward.
Because that question wasn’t political anymore.
It was personal.
Lucien looked toward the fire for a mont before answering.
"I asked them to survive with ."
The investigator frowned slightly.
"With you?"
"Yes."
Lucien’s voice remained calm.
"Not beneath ."
That answer lingered heavily inside the room.
Even Lucas looked toward Lucien differently for a second.
Because that wasn’t a noble answer.
Not usually.
Seraphin finally asked the question he’d been carrying since arriving.
"What actually happened to you, Lord Lucien?"
Lucas stiffened slightly.
The younger investigator looked surprised at the directness.
But Lucien rely remained quiet for several seconds.
Long enough that only the sound of burning wood filled the chamber.
Then he answered honestly.
"I nearly died."
Simple.
No dramatics.
No self-pity.
Sohow that made it feel more real.
Lucien continued quietly.
"When people believe you’re weak long enough... eventually you begin believing it yourself."
Lucas looked downward slightly after hearing that.
Because he rembered the man who first arrived in Elarion.
Half-broken.
Half exhausted.
Waiting for death more than survival.
"But the north doesn’t let people stay broken for very long," Lucien finished.
Another silence followed.
This one heavier than before.
Seraphin watched him carefully.
The answer still avoided many things.
But emotionally—
It felt truthful.
And that made the investigator increasingly uncomfortable.
Because the more he spoke with Lucien Valcroix—
The less he believed the official story surrounding him.
Then suddenly—
A distant roar echoed faintly through the mountains again.
Much closer this ti.
The windows trembled lightly.
The younger investigator nearly stood.
"...That was definitely not wind."
Malen looked away toward the ceiling imdiately.
Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose.
Gandalf quietly muttered: "Majestic idiot."
Seraphin slowly turned back toward Lucien.
"...Would now be an inappropriate mont to ask about the dragon?"
Lucien stared at the fire silently for a mont.
Then sighed very softly.
"...Probably."
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