Location: Castle , Capital of County Oslo Time: Day 116 After Alec's Arrival
Rain scratched against the tall windows of Castle like it was trying to remind the Countess that even storms had patience.
Countess Elira sat alone in the study chamber, a place she rarely allowed visitors, and held the unsealed scroll in her hand. Her green eyes scanned the script once more — not because she didn't understand the words, but because she couldn't understand the timing.
Lord Alec of House Alenia. Chief Architect of Development, Ducal Advisor on innovations. Titled and seated by the Duchess herself.
She hadn't gone to the naming.
She had also missed the duchess last Night Court.
She hadn't sent a gift, or a steward, or even a formality note. At the time, Amidst insecurity and banditry threats, three barons at each other's throats over grain levies, a sick daughter, and a brother-in-law suggesting—barely veiled—that she remarry before the year's end.
She hadn't thought the outsider would last.
Now he had a title.
A power base.
And infrastructure authority — which meant her roads, her bridges, her ports might soon fall under his surveys.
She folded the scroll.
"Too fast," she muttered.
"Milady?" came a voice.
Sir Jonver, her marshal and most loyal advisor, stood at the door.
She waved him in.
He walked without armor — always a sign that what he had to say wouldn't be good.
"Report from Redhallow," he said, handing her a second scroll. "Baron Esvik defied your northern levy. Says the duchess never confirmed her support of it."
"She did."
"Aye. But she didn't write it."
Elira's jaw tightened.
"And Baron Irden?" she asked.
"Still pressing that his border estates fall under trade exemption. He's threatened to send notice to Selvanis to 'establish parity.'"
She stared at him.
"Has everyone lost their damn minds?"
Jonver just stood quietly.
Elira stood and crossed the chamber, setting the scroll down beside the letter from Midgard.
"I could strangle them all with silk and still have enough left for a banner," she said.
She needed to find a way to tighten her hold on her county.
She could feel it slipping through her hands everyday that goes by.
Jonver cleared his throat. "There's more."
"Of course there is." she deadpanned.
He hesitated. Then: "Merchant trains from Midgard are spreading rumors. Not official ones. Loose tongues. But common. That the new lord—Alec—is establishing a reform network. Education. Survey teams. Roadwork."
"Tell me what they're saying, Jonver. Not the weather."
"They're saying he's succeeding, my lady."
Elira turned sharply.
"And why do I need to care?"
"You may not. But… if he gets enough reach, he'll likely request oversight rights over county roads."
"My roads."
"Yes."
She walked to the window.
The rain hadn't stopped.
"Does Vaelora back him still?"
"He speaks for her. And only her, by all signs."
Elira stared at the gray sky.
"I want every piece of verified information on him. Not gossip. Not whispers. I want logs, facts, land approvals. I want to know what he's built, what he's touched, and who carries his orders in my borders."
"Yes, Countess."
He paused. Then added: "And if what we find is impressive?"
Elira's smile was faint.
"Then I'll have to decide whether to ignore him… or invite him."
"Or even go to him" she added silently.
___
The castle was quiet.
Elira walked barefoot through the upper corridor, her silk robe trailing along the cold stone floor. She held no lantern. The halls of didn't need light for her — she'd been walking them since she got married.
She stopped at a half-open door.
Inside, her daughter slept — curled beneath a thick wool blanket, one arm clinging to a stuffed hare. Four years old and already dreaming of kings and monsters.
Elira stepped inside and sat beside her. She reached out and gently stroked the girl's auburn hair.
"I'll keep you safe," she whispered.
Her mind didn't drift to fairytales.
It drifted to Alec.
The man from nowhere, now reshaping everything.
She remembered her brother-in-law's smirk just three nights ago.
He has been pestering her ever since that day.
Making veiled threats.
It was a miracle that she had managed to hold him off until now.
"You can't run a county alone forever, Elira. Midgard grows stronger by the week. Let a proper family help. A husband would—"
She hadn't let him finish.
But the words still hung.
Now Alec's name had entered her court's whispers.
She knew what it meant.
A new player. And worse—one without noble rules.
And yet… something about him interested her. Not in a romantic sense. Not yet. But in the way a falcon watches a storm — unsure whether to fly toward it or ride it.
Later, in her private solar, Elira gathered her inner circle.
Jonver. Steward Kelin. Archivist Brann. And one new addition — Lady Virela, a baroness who'd kept neutral during the last levy standoff and had sharp eyes on Midgard.
They spoke for two hours.
About Alec.
About road systems.
About the possibility of inviting one of his survey teams into southern Oslo "for efficiency testing."
Elira listened. Asked questions. Weighed every word.
After a long while deliberating, she dismissed her court.
When the others left, she remained behind with Brann.
He poured her tea without a word.
Finally, she asked: "What kind of man is he?"
Brann, who had once met kings, thought for a long moment.
"He builds first," he said. "Then speaks."
Elira nodded.
"And if I give him part of Oslo to touch?"
"He'll take more. Not by force. But by being better."
She sipped her tea.
"Then I'd better not be left behind."
She had to solve the current problems plaguing her county soon and fast.
Then she would focus on the issue of the new lord and what effects it might have on she and her daughter future and legacy.