The echo of applause still lingered through Valemont Keep, even hours after the Concord was sealed. Cedric had retired to his study, the doors heavy with new heraldry and iron-gilded bolts. Yet, peace was fleeting.
A soft knock interrupted the quiet. Victoria stepped in without waiting, her cloak folded neatly over her arm, a mild smile on her lips. "You spoke well today."
Cedric looked up from his maps and papers, expression softening. "They listened. That alone feels like a miracle."
She walked to the window, gaze lingering on the retreating torches below. "Miracles often come with consequences. You may have to manage those sooner than you think."
Before he could respond, another knock echoed. This one more delicate, more deliberate. Cedric frowned. "Enter."
The door opened to reveal Countess Aurelia Vallentis.
She wore silk too fine for practicality, a deep crimson that clung to her body like molten wine. Her hair was swept in loose curls, and an embroidered veil hung from one ear in the fashion of western courts. A predatory grace radiated from her, softened only by the curve of her smile.
"Baronet Thorne," she greeted with a slow bow, eyes not leaving his. "Or should I say... High Marshal of the Southern Concord?"
Victoria shifted, but said nothing. Cedric stood, gesturing to a chair. "Countess Vallentis. I trust your chambers were to your satisfaction?"
"Impeccable. As is your taste in wine."
She took the seat with practiced elegance, folding one leg over the other. "I came to congratulate you. And perhaps... offer my support."
Victoria raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. Cedric leaned back, folding his hands.
"Support, Countess?"
"Oh yes. The South is rising. But unity needs... beauty. Nobility. Poise. Not just strength and grain."
Victoria stepped forward. "And you intend to provide that, personally?"
"Why not?" Aurelia smiled, unapologetic. "The court will soon buzz with tales of Thorne. Better those tales include powerful, loyal allies."
Cedric chuckled, but it was dry. "You mean whispers of scandal and strategic marriage?"
"Perhaps. But some whispers can be useful, if managed well."
Victoria met her gaze. "So long as they do not turn into snares."
Aurelia rose, her eyes never leaving Cedric. "Consider my house at your service. However you choose to define that service."
She bowed again, then swept from the room like a velvet shadow. When she was gone, Victoria scoffed softly.
"That woman leaves claw marks on the floor wherever she walks."
Cedric smiled. "She's not the first noble to think bedchambers lead to power."
Victoria tilted her head. "And will you entertain her ambitions?"
He shook his head. "Not unless she can forge steel, harvest grain, or train troops."
The next morning, the keep was abuzz with new visitors. A handful of village chiefs and lesser baronets had arrived, drawn by the growing rumors. Each had ridden days through frost and snow, their cloaks still dusted with travel.
One by one, they were brought before Cedric in the long hall. They bowed, some stiffly, others with genuine reverence.
"Baronet Thorne," began one, a grizzled man with a salt-stained cloak. "I am Lord Eddric of Fenmere. My lands border the Briar Marshes. For too long we've stood alone. I seek the banner of the Concord."
Another followed, a middle-aged woman with sunburned cheeks and iron-straight posture. "I am Lady Mirenna of Highgate. My village stands at a trade crossing once forgotten. I would see it remembered again."
Cedric welcomed each in turn, offering the same terms: unity, contribution, and shared growth. No subjugation. No exploitation. Only partnership.
Hans stood behind him, silent but proud. Marlowe managed ledgers and oaths. Victoria whispered observations in his ear.
By midday, seven new banners had been added to the book of accord.
At lunch, Cedric walked among the commonfolk of Valemont. Farmers and artisans bowed with pride rather than fear. Children called his name.
He stopped near the smithy, where Hans was demonstrating an improved blade to the envoys. Cedric watched as the steel sang in the air, then turned at a tug on his cloak.
Annika stood there, flour dusting her apron. She offered him a fresh tart. "Baked this morning. First harvest wheat. Thought you might need the energy."
He took it with a grateful smile. "You always know when to appear."
She blushed. "You're easier to feed than to understand, sometimes."
Cedric laughed. "Most days, I'm not even sure what I'm doing."
"Then you're doing it right."
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, the courtyard filled with color. Banners. Laughter. A musician's lute.
And in the shadows, watching with painted lips and narrowed eyes, Countess Aurelia sipped her wine.
The game was just beginning.