The rain over the capital had not stopped for three days.

Gray clouds hung heavily above the spires of House Valcriox while servants moved quietly through dim corridors carrying reports, sealed letters, and trade ledgers between administrative chambers.

But beneath the calm surface of the capital—

Tension spread rapidly.

Because the newest intelligence reports from Elarion had begun circulating quietly among the nobility.

And many did not like what they read.

---

Deep within the western estate wing of House Valcriox, a private chamber remained lit long after midnight.

Heavy curtains covered the windows. Firelight flickered against dark wooden walls. Wine glasses rested untouched across a circular table surrounded by nobles wearing increasingly grim expressions.

Lord Berengar Valcriox slammed a production report onto the table.

"This has gone too far."

The older noble’s voice carried restrained anger while several others silently exchanged glances.

"Five thousand riflemen." "Twenty cannons." "Factories operating day and night."

He looked around the chamber sharply.

"And Kassian still waits."

Another noble nodded immediately.

"Every month Elarion grows stronger."

A third scoffed quietly.

"We should have crushed the north before winter."

That statement lingered heavily in the room.

Because many of them privately believed the same thing now.

At first, Lucien had seemed manageable:

an exiled noble,

ruling frozen wasteland,

playing with strange inventions.

But Elarion no longer resembled a failed northern territory.

It resembled emerging power.

And that frightened them.

Lord Marius leaned forward slowly.

"The worst part is not the rifles."

Several nobles looked toward him.

"It is the people."

Silence followed.

Because again—

That was correct.

Reports now confirmed:

migration increasing,

workers moving north voluntarily,

craftsmen abandoning southern workshops,

merchants quietly investing in Elarion trade.

The idea itself had become dangerous.

A territory where:

commoners earned wages,

merit mattered,

production scaled,

and armies expanded without noble levies.

That threatened more than military balance.

It threatened the structure of noble authority itself.

Berengar poured wine into his glass aggressively.

"Kassian believes this can still be controlled politically."

"And you disagree?" another noble asked.

"I believe Lucien should already be dead."

The chamber fell silent briefly.

Not because the statement shocked anyone.

But because several secretly agreed.

One younger lord finally spoke carefully.

"War against Elarion would not remain contained anymore."

Berengar snorted.

"And waiting improves that?"

No answer came.

Because that was the problem.

Every report from the north worsened the situation.

Every month:

more rifles,

more workers,

more furnaces,

more artillery.

Elarion scaled continuously.

Lord Marius unfolded another intelligence report afterward.

"There is more."

Berengar looked irritated already.

"Wonderful."

"The dragon remains in Elarion."

Silence.

That changed the atmosphere immediately.

Aurethar’s existence complicated everything.

Because ancient dragons were not political decorations.

Even the kingdom treated them carefully.

One noble muttered uneasily:

"Why would a dragon involve himself with humans?"

Another answered bitterly.

"Apparently Lucien somehow convinced one."

Berengar’s expression darkened further.

"That creature should have left months ago."

But it hadn’t.

And that worried everyone.

Because if Aurethar openly sided with Elarion during conflict—

The consequences became unpredictable.

Still—

Fear only hardened Berengar’s resolve further.

"Then we strike before things worsen."

One noble frowned.

"You speak as if this is simple."

Berengar leaned forward coldly.

"It was simple months ago."

No one argued with that.

Because the truth remained painfully obvious now.

They had underestimated Lucien.

Badly.

A servant quietly entered the chamber afterward carrying several newly arrived letters sealed with noble insignias.

Marius accepted them quickly before scanning the signatures.

Then his expression changed slightly.

"Interesting."

Berengar looked up.

"What?"

"These are responses."

"To what?"

Marius slowly smiled.

"To inquiries."

Several nobles straightened immediately.

"Which inquiries?"

He placed the letters across the table carefully.

"Nobles concerned about Elarion."

Now the atmosphere sharpened.

Because this was no longer merely private frustration.

This was organization.

Political alignment.

The beginnings of factions.

One older lord quickly opened a letter before reading aloud:

> "Continued northern militarization threatens regional stability."

Another:

> "Elarion’s industrial growth may destabilize noble trade influence."

A third:

> "Delaying action risks long-term consequences."

More and more.

Different houses.

Different territories.

Same concern.

Lucien.

Berengar slowly smiled for the first time that night.

"Kassian is not the only voice within House Valcriox."

No.

And that was dangerous.

Because while Kassian preferred caution—

Others preferred decisive action.

Especially nobles whose wealth and influence already suffered from:

migration,

industrial competition,

and shifting trade patterns.

Marius folded his hands calmly.

"The question is no longer whether Elarion becomes dangerous."

His eyes moved toward the northern maps spread across the table.

"It already is."

Silence followed briefly.

Then Berengar spoke quietly:

"We begin building support."

"For war?"

"For necessity."

The distinction honestly meant very little.

One younger noble still looked uncertain.

"And Kassian?"

Berengar’s expression hardened slightly.

"Kassian thinks like a ruler."

That was not entirely criticism.

But neither was it praise.

"He sees long-term stability."

Berengar’s gaze shifted toward the furnace reports from Elarion.

"I see a fire spreading before anyone bothers bringing water."

No one argued.

Because somewhere deep down—

They all understood the fear now.

Lucien was not merely strengthening the north.

He was changing the balance of the kingdom itself.

And if Elarion continued growing unchecked—

One day even House Valcriox might no longer control what came next.

Outside the estate, rain continued falling across the capital.

Far to the north, beyond mountains and snowstorms—

The furnaces of Elarion continued burning through the night.

Unaware—

Or perhaps fully aware—

That parts of the southern nobility had already begun preparing for war.