The week following Duke Morningstar's visit passed in a flurry of preparation. Letters were sent, contracts were finalized, and arrangements were made for our extended stay in Ashford.
I spent most of my days coordinating with Edmund and my father's advisors, ensuring the estate would run smoothly in our absence. Valerie handled correspondence with her father's business partners in the eastern territories, setting up meetings and establishing connections we'd need.
It was exhausting work, but satisfying in a way I'd never experienced before. Every decision mattered. Every detail counted.
"You're going to work yourself to death before we even leave," Valerie said one evening, finding me in the study surrounded by ledgers and maps.
"Just making sure everything's in order."
"Everything is in order. You've checked it three times." She walked over and closed the ledger I was reviewing. "Come to bed, Chase. The paperwork will still be here tomorrow."
"I know, I just—"
"You're nervous," she observed, sitting on the edge of the desk. "About Ashford or about the project?"
"About all of it." I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. "This is important. If I mess this up, it reflects on both our families."
"You won't mess it up. And even if something goes wrong, we'll handle it together." She took my hand. "You need to trust yourself as much as I trust you."
"When did you become the reasonable one?"
"Someone has to balance out your obsessive planning." She pulled me to my feet. "Come on. We leave in three days. You need rest more than you need to review supply chain logistics for the hundredth time."
She was right, of course. I let her lead me upstairs, though my mind continued racing through checklists and contingencies.
---
The next morning brought an unexpected visitor.
I was in the training yard, going through sword forms, when Marcus approached with a grave expression.
"Young master, there's someone here to see you. They say it's urgent."
"Who?"
"Knight William Stone."
My blood ran cold. William was supposed to be at the capital by now. What was he doing here?
"Where is he?"
"The main hall. Your father is keeping him company, but he specifically asked for you."
I cleaned my sword and headed inside, my mind racing. Had something happened? Was there trouble at the capital? Or was this about something else entirely?
William stood in the main hall, still in traveling gear, looking tired and dusty from the road. His hand rested on his sword hilt—a habit, probably, but it set my nerves on edge nonetheless.
"Knight Stone," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon."
"Lord Morvan." He bowed slightly to my father, then turned his attention to me. "I apologize for the intrusion, but I have information you need to hear."
"What kind of information?"
"Not here. Somewhere private."
My father glanced between us. "You can use my study. I'll make sure you're not disturbed."
---
Once we were alone in the study, William's professional demeanor cracked slightly.
"I'm only telling you this because Lady Valerie deserves to know," he said without preamble. "And because as much as I dislike you, what's coming isn't something anyone should face unprepared."
"What's coming?"
"The capital is more dangerous than you think. There are factions moving and plots are forming. I've been hearing gossip, nothing serious but enough to concern me."
"Gossips about what?"
"About the dungeon closure. About who was really responsible. About political implications." He paced the room, agitated. "Some nobles are claiming the credit should go to the crown forces. Others are saying the whole thing was orchestrated to make House Morningstar look good. And there are a few..." He paused. "A few who think the dungeon manifestation was deliberately caused by someone seeking to create chaos."
That last part made my stomach drop. In the novel, conspiracy theories about the dungeons had been dismissed as fringe nonsense. But what if they weren't entirely wrong?
"Who's saying these things?"
"House Valdris is the loudest. They've been pushing hard against Morningstar interests in the east for years. The Ashford success undermines their position significantly."
"I know about Valdris. Duke Morningstar warned me."
"Then you know they're dangerous. But there's more." William stopped pacing, facing me directly. "There's talk of challenges and duels. Some of the younger Valdris nobles are looking to make names for themselves by taking down the 'hero of Ashford.' And you're an easier target than Lady Valerie."
"Let them try."
"Don't be stupid. You're competent now, I'll give you that. But you're not ready for what these people will throw at you. They've been training their whole lives. They have levels, abilities, and resources you don't have."
He was right. I was improving, but I was still weak by noble standards. Level 12 with no mana. Against trained fighters with magical abilities and proper equipment, I'd be at a severe disadvantage.
"What do you suggest?"
"Don't go to the capital. Send representatives. Delay the visit until you're stronger."
"I can't do that. The king himself requested our presence."
"Then go, but be prepared. Train harder. Get better equipment. And watch everyone. Trust no one." He moved toward the door, then stopped. "And Morvan? Keep Lady Valerie safe. Whatever else happens, whatever games get played, she doesn't deserve to be caught in the crossfire."
"I will. I swear it." Chase said mostly to himself.
He nodded once, then left without another word.
---
I found Valerie in the gardens, reading correspondence from her father. She looked up as I approached, immediately noticing my expression.
"What's wrong?"
"William was here. He brought heads up about the capital."
Her face grew serious. "What kind?"
I told her everything—the political maneuvering, the conspiracy theories, the threat of duels and challenges. She listened without interrupting, her expression growing darker with each revelation.
"House Valdris," she said finally. "I should have anticipated this. Father's been competing with them for eastern territory influence for years. Of course they'd see our success at Ashford as a threat."
"William suggested we delay the capital visit."
"That's not an option. Refusing a royal summons would be worse than any political game Valdris could play." She stood, pacing the garden path. "No, we go as planned. But we prepare better."
"How?"
"Training. More intensive, more focused. You need to be ready to defend yourself if challenged." She turned to me. "And we need better intelligence. I'll reach out to my contacts to see what information I can gather about who exactly is plotting what."
"Valerie, maybe you should stay here. If this is dangerous—"
"Don't even finish that sentence." Her voice was sharp. "We're partners. We face threats together. That was the deal."
"I know, but—"
"No buts. Besides, I'm far more capable in court than you are. You need me there." Her expression softened slightly. "And I need to be there. To watch your back."
"I watch yours, you watch mine."
"Exactly." She came back to me, taking my hands. "We have three days before we leave. We have to use them wisely. Intensive training, gathering information, preparing for every scenario we can think of."
"And the Ashford project?"
"That's still happening. We'll make it work. We always do." She squeezed my hands. "But Chase? William was right about one thing. We need to be careful. The capital isn't Ashford. The enemies there don't come at you with claws and teeth. They smile while they slide knives between your ribs."
"Comforting."
"I'm being realistic. But I'm also confident. We survived a dungeon outbreak and a half-manifested dragon. We can survive noble politics."
"Can we though? Because at least with the dragon, I knew what I was dealing with."
"Then we will learn. Fast." She pulled me toward the training yard. "Come on. If there's even a chance you'll be challenged to a duel, we need to make sure you can hold your own for more than thirty seconds."
---
The next three days were brutal.
Valerie trained me harder than ever before, focusing on practical combat techniques rather than form and theory. How to fight dirty if necessary. How to exploit weaknesses. How to survive against someone stronger and more skilled.
"In a duel, honor means nothing if you're dead," she said, demonstrating a move that involved kicking sand in an opponent's eyes. "Use every advantage. Every trick. Survival first is first, propriety second."
Marcus joined the training sessions, adding his veteran experience. He taught me about reading opponents, spotting tells, predicting attacks before they came.
"You don't have magic to rely on," he said. "So you need to be smarter. Faster. More ruthless. Make them underestimate you, then prove them wrong."
Elena worked with me on defensive techniques, ways to protect vital areas, how to minimize damage from attacks I couldn't avoid.
By the time the third day arrived, I was covered in bruises and barely able to move. But I was better. Not great, not even good by most standards. But better than I'd been.
Valerie had her own preparations. Letters flew back and forth between our estate and various contacts across the kingdom. She compiled dossiers on the key nobles we'd encounter, their allegiances, their weaknesses, their ambitions.
"House Valdris has three sons," she explained one evening, spreading documents across our bed. "The eldest, Marcus Valdris, is heir. Level 28, earth affinity. Competent but unimaginative. The second son, Thomas, is the dangerous one. Level 25, fire affinity, and he's won twelve formal duels. If anyone challenges you, it'll probably be him."
"And the third?"
"Geoffrey. Only seventeen, level 19. Water affinity. He's being groomed for diplomatic service, so less of a direct threat."
"What about allies? Do we have any?"
"A few. House Sterling has been neutral in the Morningstar-Valdris rivalry. If we can bring them to our side, it would help. House Blackwood owes my father a favor—we might be able to leverage that. And there are some minor houses that could be swayed with the right incentives."
It was like preparing for war. Which, in a way, it was. Just a war fought with words and politics instead of swords and magic.
On the evening before our departure, we had a quiet dinner with my father.
"You're as prepared as you can be," he said. "Trust your instincts, watch each other's backs, and don't let them provoke you into doing something stupid."
"That last part's directed at me, isn't it?" I asked.
"Entirely at you, yes." But he was smiling. "You've come far, Chase. Further than I ever hoped. Make me proud."
"I will. Or die trying."
"Please don't die," Valerie interjected. "That would really complicate my plans."
After dinner, as we lay in bed, Valerie was uncharacteristically quiet.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked.
"Everything." She turned to face me. "I'm scared, Chase. Not for me—I can handle myself. But for you. You've changed so much, accomplished so much. I don't want to see you destroyed by people who can't stand to see someone improve themselves."
"I won't be destroyed. I have you."
"Promise me you'll be smart. That you won't let pride or anger make you do something reckless."
"I promise. I'll be the most boring, cautious person at court."
"Somehow I doubt that." She kissed me softly. "But I'll hold you to it anyway."
We fell asleep tangled together, both seeking comfort in the contact. Tomorrow we'd leave for the capital, for the unknown dangers waiting there.
But tonight, we had each other.
And somehow, that made everything else seem manageable.