Location: Armathane Time: Day 97 After Arrival
By the end of the week, Alec's signature meant less than it should have.
Not because it was invalid — his title was still recognized, his seal still accepted. But papers moved slower now. Approvals arrived late or not at all. His labor rotation logs were being "reviewed for irregularities." His materials orders are been delayed. And requests he had already marked as urgent were now returning with a new label: "Pending Clarification."
He'd seen systems like this before. In simulations to be precise.
Not broken — just turned sideways. Bent just enough to stall movement without technically violating anything.
He stood in his assigned administrative office in the West Wing Of the Ducal Palace — tall windows, good lighting, no privacy — and read the same report for the third time.
Misfiled labor requisition. Flagged for double-approval due to cross-county involvement. Re-routed through trade census queue. Estimated delay: 14 days.
Fourteen days for shovels and timber.
He set the report down, slowly.
Serina stood near the doorway. She'd arrived a few minutes earlier with a courier bundle in hand and had said nothing, watching him read.
"That's the third this week," she finally said.
"Fourth," Alec corrected.
She moved closer. "They're not being subtle."
"They don't have to be."
"You want names?"
"No," Alec said. "Not yet."
Serina set the bundle down on the desk and unfolded a series of council memos. "Lord Haran of Varensholt blocked your trade lane survey request. Said it 'conflicted with ongoing farmland inheritance disputes.' Total fiction."
Alec didn't look surprised.
"And Halven?"
"Publicly, he hasn't said anything."
Alec raised an eyebrow.
"But privately," she continued, "his aides are spreading copies of your Grendale cost estimates with the numbers shifted. Makes it look like you overspent by half."
"Creative."
"And effective," she admitted. "Two minor barons already asked if your projects are draining the ducal treasury."
Alec didn't speak for a moment.
Then: "You warned me this would happen."
"Yes," Serina said. "But you hoped you were wrong."
"I don't deal in hope."
"Then deal in counter-moves."
Alec looked at her. "Are you offering advice or alignment?"
Serina met his gaze without flinching. "Both."
He nodded.
Good.
—
Later that day, Alec requested a formal audience with the Duchy's Internal Affairs Steward.
He was denied.
Twice.
By evening, a scribe brought him a "rescheduling notice" that pushed the meeting into the following month.
And that's when Alec knew it wasn't just Halven.
This wasn't a grudge.
It was a coalition.
They expected him to run to the duchess like a scared little dog.
As if.
He has witnessed countless lifetime of challenges and solve them all.
This was nothing.
—
He returned to his office just after nightfall. The lamps were already lit. A fire burned low in the grate. One of his engineers, Halen, sat waiting — the youngest of the five he'd pulled from Grendale after his appointment, eyes too alert for his age.
"You heard?" Alec asked.
Halen nodded. "The canal redirection project's stalled. Stone shipment delayed again. And the locals are starting to get nervous."
Alec poured two glasses of water and handed one over. "Start working around the problem. Talk to the quarry masters directly. Pay in favors, not coin. Use unofficial channels for now."
"Won't that get us flagged?"
"It will get us results."
Halen nodded and stood.
Before he left, he said, "They're trying to wear you down."
"I know."
"They won't win."
Alec didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
—
Two days later, he confronted Halven.
It wasn't dramatic.
There was no court audience, no thrown goblets, no shouting match.
Just a hallway near the council rotunda. Stone walls. Flickering torchlight. A brief intersection of two trajectories moving opposite directions.
Halven was walking with two aides when Alec turned the corner.
Their eyes met.
Halven slowed.
"Lord Advisor," he said smoothly, not stopping.
"Lord Halven."
They passed each other — then Alec turned back.
"I'm curious," he said calmly. "When did you decide to fight from behind paper instead of in front of people?"
Halven stopped.
So did his aides.
He turned slowly, a smile twitching at one corner of his mouth.
"You'll find the council doesn't care much for upstarts with too many ideas."
Alec walked forward, unhurried.
"They seem to care about results. And mine are still standing."
"For now."
Alec stepped close enough to lower his voice.
"I don't need every noble's blessing. Just enough to build. And so far, not one of your delays has stopped anything. You're slowing a tide. Not reversing it."
Halven's smile faded. "I'm preserving order."
"No," Alec said. "You're preserving familiarity. That's not the same."
Halven's aide opened his mouth to speak — but Halven held up a hand.
"We'll see how long your ideas last when the money runs out."
Alec nodded once.
"Then let's see who runs out of support first."
They parted.
No declarations. No drawn blades.
Just understanding.
They were at war now.
—
That night, Alec called a private meeting.
No councilors.
No engineers.
Just six people — all loyal, all selected by him in the last three months. One scribal apprentice. One former smuggler turned courier. One grain ledger specialist. Two trade route scouts. And Serina.
He spread a blank map across the table.
"From this point forward," he said, "we track everything they do. Delay patterns. Supply redirection. Council excuses. I want a full breakdown of who's interfering, when, and where."
He tapped the map.
"Then we build something underneath it."
Serina raised an eyebrow. "A shadow system?"
"No," Alec said. "A functional one. Quiet. Fast. Unofficial."
"And if they find it?"
"They won't," Alec replied. "Because it won't look like rebellion. It'll look like efficiency."
Serina smiled.
"Good."
—
By week's end, Alec had rerouted two shipments through merchant guilds instead of state channels. He'd also begun writing his own field reports — coded — to circulate among loyal county stewards. And the first council-aligned scribe who tried to flag one of his workers for "misuse of ducal resources" was met with a notarized ledger proving not only authorization, but overperformance.
The bureaucracy was vast.
But so was Alec's mind.
And while they played obstruction, he built paths around the walls.
Quietly.
Effectively.
For now this will make do. But he had bigger plans. Better ones. Foolproof.
They just don't know it yet but.
"They never should have let me leave Branhal" He reasoned as he looked out the window of his office to the grounds below.