Location: Armathane, Private Solar of the Duchess Time: Day 80 After Alec's Arrival
It was late afternoon when Alec was summoned.
No herald. No parchment with a seal. Just a quiet knock at his door and a palace aide who said, simply, "The duchess will see you."
He followed without speaking, boots echoing faintly in the hallways now familiar enough to memorize. But today, the usual paths were avoided. The aide led him not toward the council chambers or her public study, but down into the south corridor—a less-traveled hall of older stone and dim lighting. A place for conversations not meant to be seen or overheard.
They stopped before a heavy ironwood door. The aide knocked once.
From within: "Let him in."
Alec stepped forward.
—
The room was long, with high windows set too far above for anyone outside to peer in. The walls were lined with books, none decorative. The central table was rectangular, unadorned, and empty—no scrolls, no wine, no distraction. It was a table meant for terms.
Vaelora stood at the window, her hands clasped behind her back. She wore dark grey today, without ornament. Her hair was drawn up with a plain pin of dull copper. She looked like a woman preparing for war—but the war, Alec sensed, was not of swords.
She turned only when the door clicked shut behind him.
"No engineers. No guards. No Serina."
"No audience," Alec replied.
She nodded. "Good."
He moved forward but didn't sit. She didn't gesture.
For a moment, the silence hung—not tense, but careful.
Then Vaelora said, "The court's been whispering louder since your last visit to the council quarters."
"I heard."
"Lord Halven now refers to you as the duchy's 'tamed storm.'"
Alec's mouth twitched. "I prefer 'unclassified weather.'"
Vaelora gave a faint smile, then walked slowly to the table. She stood at one end. Alec mirrored her at the other.
Her expression sobered. "We should talk about the future."
"I agree."
A beat passed. She motioned to the chair. "Sit."
He did. So did she.
—
"What do you want, Alec?"
She didn't ease into it. No feint. No build.
Alec sat back. "That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether you're asking as a ruler, a negotiator, or something else."
Her eyebrow lifted slightly. "And if I'm all three?"
"Then I'll answer one at a time."
Her fingers tapped once on the wood. "Start with the ruler."
"I want access," Alec said. "Not just to land. To data. Census records. Transport maps. Resources depots surveys. Crop trend logs. Infrastructure rot reports."
"You want my whole library."
"I want your empire's veins. The blood tells more than the crown."
Vaelora gave nothing away on her face, but her hands folded neatly on the table.
"You'll have it. But knowledge without control is dangerous. What will you do with it?"
"Model. Predict. Design."
"For?"
"Efficiency. Expansion. Resilience."
She looked at him hard. "You mean conquest."
"I mean improvement. The world's built on legacy and rot. I want to rebuild it. Piece by piece."
"Under whose banner?"
"I haven't drawn it yet."
"That's what frightens them."
"And you?"
Vaelora leaned forward slightly. "I'm not frightened. I'm calculating. You offer results without allegiance. That's useful—but only for so long."
Alec didn't blink. "Then let's speak as negotiators."
"Good," she said.
—
Her voice shifted now. Less formal. More strategic.
"Let me make you an offer."
"I'm listening."
"I'll name you Chief Architect Of Development and Ducal Advisor on Innovation. That gives you a controlling hand in all public and civil development projects within the counties."
"And in return?"
"You keep your growth within Midgard. No private militias. No foreign alliances. Your projects pass through my council for approval, even if I fast-track them. You use the crown's gold and wear the duchy's mark when representing the office."
Alec didn't respond immediately.
Vaelora watched him carefully.
"You'd have reach," she added. "Not full freedom. But more than any other common-born man has ever held."
"Still a leash," he said quietly.
"Long. But present."
"What happens if I decline?"
"You'll still work. But under tighter scrutiny. And you'll be slowed. You'll build—but not lead."
Alec looked away for the first time.
And then he laughed. Quiet. Flat.
Vaelora didn't interrupt.
"I was raised in a place where we learned that even a brilliant tool could be shelved if it made the wrong sound," he said.
"I'm not trying to shelve you."
"No," Alec said, looking at her again. "You're trying to use me. Which is fine. But I won't be used without leverage of my own."
"Then what's your counteroffer?"
"My signature," Alec said, "for shared power. Not under you. With you."
Her head tilted. "What does that look like?"
"You keep the crown. You keep the court. But I build the systems. I pick the next city to save. I train the next group. I map the path. You approve the steps, but don't drag the pace."
She considered that. "And in return?"
"I stay loyal. For now. I don't challenge the duchy. I don't turn heads in Edenia. I keep my name within your walls and wear your protection."
Vaelora's expression didn't shift. But her fingers tapped again.
"Three years."
"Five," Alec countered.
"Four. Not a day longer."
He nodded once. "Done."
—
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Vaelora sat back.
"You've thought this through."
"I've lived this through."
She studied him. "Do you believe in empire?"
"I believe in inevitability."
"That's not an answer."
"I believe that systems fail when built on vanity. I want to design one that survives its rulers."
She said nothing.
Finally, she asked, "Do you trust me, Alec?"
"No."
Her eyes didn't flicker.
"But I respect you," he continued. "And that's more useful right now."
She smiled. Faint. Cold.
"Good. Because I don't trust you either."
Alec returned the smile. "Then we're on solid ground."
—
Vaelora stood.
"So be it," she said. "We'll draft the terms formally. It will pass through the council. Some will object. Let them."
"I expect resistance."
"You'll get it."
He stood too.
She approached him now—not confrontational, not flirtatious. Just steady. Measured.
"I know what kind of man you are," she said. "You don't need flattery. You need access. Room to operate. I've given you that."
"I'll use it."
"I know."
A moment passed.
"You remind me of my father," she said.
Alec blinked. "Was that meant as praise?"
"No," she said. "Just history."
Then she turned and walked toward the window.
Alec didn't follow.
Not yet.
—
When he did finally leave the room, it wasn't with the swagger of a man who had won.
But with the calm weight of someone who had secured position.
He had leverage now. Responsibility. A title.
But more importantly—
He had the blueprint of a growing empire.