Chapter 7 — A Fragile Order
Segment 1
The estate did not fall silent after the storm.
If anything, it moved faster.
Servants crossed corridors with purpose, their steps quick but measured. Guards stood at their posts with sharper attention than before, hands never straying far from the hilts of their weapons. Doors opened and closed more often, voices kept low but constant—like a machine that had been struck hard, then forced to keep running before it had time to truly settle.
It worked.
But it wasn't stable.
Dominic noticed it immediately.
He walked at an easy pace through the eastern corridor, hands loosely clasped behind his back, posture relaxed enough that anyone passing might assume he had nowhere important to be. A young noble child wandering his home. Nothing more.
That illusion lasted exactly three seconds.
The moment a servant stepped into his path and nearly flinched at the sight of him, Dominic sighed internally.
Right. Still that kind of atmosphere.
Outwardly, though, he smiled.
"Good morning," he said lightly.
The servant—a woman in her early thirties, carrying folded linens—froze for just a fraction of a second before dipping into a quick bow.
"My lord."
Dominic tilted his head slightly, studying her for a moment. Not in a way that lingered—just enough to notice.
Her grip on the linens was too tight.
Her shoulders were stiff.
Her breathing was shallow.
Fear. Not directed at him specifically… just present.
He let out a soft breath through his nose.
"If everyone keeps looking that nervous," he said casually, "I'm going to start assuming I've done something wrong."
The woman blinked.
It was subtle, but the tension cracked—just a little.
"I—no, my lord. Of course not."
"Good," Dominic replied with a small, easy smile. "I'd hate to discover I've been a terrible influence without anyone telling me."
That earned him the faintest hint of a confused expression. Not quite amusement… but close enough.
He let the moment sit just long enough.
Then moved on.
No pressure. No lingering.
Just… normal.
Or as close to it as he could manage.
The corridor opened into one of the main interior halls, and the shift in atmosphere became more obvious.
Servants moved around a long table, organizing documents, tools, and small sealed containers—inventory adjustments, likely. Two guards stood near the far entrance, speaking in low tones that stopped the moment Dominic stepped into view.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
But awareness.
Too much of it.
Dominic kept walking.
"Relax," he said as he passed them, not even slowing. "If I catch you looking that serious this early in the morning, I might assign you something difficult. Like smiling."
One of the guards hesitated.
The other snorted before he could stop himself.
Dominic didn't look back, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly.
There we go.
Small things.
That was all it took.
He continued through the hall, eyes moving—not sharply, not in a way that drew attention, but enough to take everything in.
Patterns.
Movement.
Behavior.
The estate was functioning.
Orders were being followed.
Tasks were being completed.
But it wasn't right.
Too rigid.
Too reactive.
Like everyone was waiting for something else to go wrong.
Dominic exhaled quietly.
Father really did a number on them.
Not incorrectly.
Not unjustifiably, either.
But efficiently… in the worst possible way.
Fear made people move fast.
It also made them break.
A pair of servants crossed in front of him near the far archway, one speaking in a hushed, hurried tone.
"…I heard they took him last night—"
"Stop talking about it," the other whispered sharply. "Just do your work."
They both noticed Dominic at the same time.
And immediately went silent.
Dominic raised a hand slightly as he approached.
"Relax," he said. "If I wanted to overhear something interesting, I'd stand closer."
That earned him a startled look from both of them.
Then, hesitantly—
A small, nervous smile.
Good.
Better than silence.
He passed through the archway and stepped into the inner courtyard.
The change in environment helped.
Open air. Sunlight. Space.
It softened things slightly.
Guards were posted along the perimeter, their presence heavier than usual, but not oppressive. A few stable hands moved near the far side, tending to horses with quiet efficiency.
Dominic slowed his pace just a bit.
Watched.
Listened.
Felt.
There it was again.
That same underlying tension.
Not panic.
Not chaos.
Just… pressure.
Like a string pulled too tight.
This works, he thought.
Just not for long.
A guard near the courtyard entrance shifted as Dominic approached, straightening instinctively.
"My lord."
Dominic gave him a brief nod, then paused.
Not long.
Just enough.
The guard blinked, unsure.
Dominic tilted his head slightly.
"You've been here since early morning?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord."
"You look like it."
The guard hesitated, unsure whether that was a compliment or not.
Dominic smiled faintly.
"Try not to collapse before midday," he added. "It's inconvenient for everyone involved."
That earned him a short, surprised exhale—almost a laugh.
Almost.
Dominic let his gaze linger for a second longer.
Just enough to feel it.
The tension.
The fatigue.
The lingering edge of unease.
Then—
Subtly—
He reached out.
Not physically.
Not visibly.
But intentionally.
Holy Nails.
It wasn't dramatic.
There was no surge of power. No visible shift in the air.
Just a quiet, deliberate application.
A slight suppression of fatigue.
A gentle push toward focus.
Nothing unnatural.
Nothing forced.
Just… easing the path forward.
The effect was immediate—but not overwhelming.
The guard straightened a little more.
His shoulders loosened slightly.
His breathing steadied.
He didn't notice it consciously.
But Dominic did.
There it is.
Dominic nodded once, as if nothing had happened.
"Better," he said casually.
The guard blinked.
"…Yes, my lord."
There was confusion in his voice.
But also something else.
Clarity.
Dominic turned away, already moving again.
Alright… so that works.
Not control.
Not dominance.
Just… adjustment.
Acceleration.
He exhaled slowly, hands slipping into his sleeves as he walked.
And suppression is definitely stronger.
That part was obvious.
Reducing something—fatigue, fear, hesitation—had a much clearer, more immediate effect than trying to build something up.
Which made sense.
Removing obstacles was easier than building foundations.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
That's useful.
Also slightly concerning.
But mostly useful.
He crossed the courtyard at an unhurried pace, already mapping things out in his head—not in a grand, strategic way, but in the same practical manner he always approached problems.
What worked.
What didn't.
What needed adjustment.
The estate wasn't broken.
It was just… unstable.
And instability was annoying.
Mostly because it created more work later.
Dominic sighed quietly.
If I fix it now, I don't have to deal with it again later.
A pause.
Then—
Yeah… that's worth the effort.
A stable hand near the far end of the courtyard struggled briefly with a restless horse, the animal stamping its hooves with agitation.
Dominic changed direction without thinking.
"Let me guess," he called as he approached, "he's decided he doesn't like you today?"
The stable hand startled slightly, then gave a quick bow.
"My lord—he's just—"
"Difficult?" Dominic offered.
"Yes, my lord."
Dominic stepped closer, gaze flicking over the horse, then back to the handler.
"Or you're nervous," he said lightly. "And he's picking up on it."
The man hesitated.
Dominic smiled faintly.
"Animals are rude like that. They notice everything."
A brief pause.
Then, again—subtle, controlled—
A light suppression of anxiety.
A slight push toward calm.
The handler's grip steadied.
His posture adjusted.
The horse's agitation lessened—not instantly, but noticeably.
Dominic nodded once.
"There," he said. "Try again."
The man did.
And this time, it worked.
Dominic stepped back, satisfied.
Yeah. That's definitely going to be useful.
He turned, already moving again before the man could fully process what had changed.
Because if there was one thing Dominic had no interest in…
It was standing around explaining things.
Behind him, the estate continued to move.
Faster.
Smoother.
Still fragile.
But improving.
And for now—
That was enough.
Segment 2
Dominic didn't stop moving.
That, more than anything, seemed to help.
Standing still invited attention. It gave people time to think, to overanalyze, to remember exactly what had happened over the past few days. Movement kept things flowing—kept people focused on tasks instead of fear.
And, more importantly—
It gave him a chance to observe.
He cut through a side corridor leading toward the service wing, where the pace of activity was faster and less restrained. Here, servants didn't have the luxury of hesitation. Meals still needed preparing. Supplies still needed organizing. Work, unlike fear, didn't wait.
Which made it the perfect place to test things.
Dominic slowed slightly as he entered the main service hall.
Two kitchen staff stood near a long preparation table, one slicing vegetables with rigid precision, the other standing a little too still beside her—hands hovering, unsure whether to help or stay out of the way.
"Alright," Dominic said as he approached, glancing between them, "I feel like I've walked into a silent disagreement."
Both women froze.
Then immediately dipped into quick bows.
"My lord."
Dominic waved a hand lightly.
"If this is about vegetables, I promise I'm not here to take sides."
That earned him a brief, confused look from the younger one.
The older woman exhaled slowly through her nose.
"We were just—organizing the preparation order, my lord."
Dominic glanced at the cutting board.
"You were deciding who gets to do the part that doesn't involve knives," he corrected casually.
The younger servant flushed.
The older one hesitated.
Dominic tilted his head, studying them both for a moment.
Tension.
Hesitation.
Uncertainty.
Nothing unusual.
But also—
Opportunity.
He stepped a little closer, resting a hand lightly on the edge of the table.
"Let me make this easier," he said. "You—" he nodded to the younger one, "—help. You—" he shifted his gaze to the older woman, "—supervise and stop her from cutting off anything important."
A pause.
Then—
A faint, involuntary smile from the older servant.
"Yes, my lord."
The younger one nodded quickly, already moving to assist.
Good.
Simple direction.
No pressure.
No fear.
Just… clarity.
Dominic stayed for a second longer than necessary.
Watching.
Feeling.
The difference was immediate—not dramatic, but clear.
Movement resumed.
Not forced.
Not rigid.
Just… smoother.
Right.
That confirmed it.
Structure mattered.
Even without the Nails.
Still—
He wasn't done.
As the younger servant reached for a second knife, her grip faltered slightly—not enough to be dangerous, but enough to show lingering hesitation.
Dominic exhaled quietly.
Alright. Let's try this properly.
Again—
Subtle.
Controlled.
Holy Nails.
This time, he was more precise.
Not broad.
Not general.
Focused.
A slight suppression of hesitation.
A gentle nudge toward confidence.
Nothing unnatural.
Nothing overwhelming.
Just… clearing the path.
The change was immediate.
Her hand steadied.
Her movements became more fluid.
Not faster—just more certain.
Dominic's eyes narrowed slightly.
Yeah… that's definitely stronger than enhancement.
There was no build-up.
No gradual shift.
Just—
Obstacle removed.
The older servant noticed it too.
Not consciously.
But instinctively.
Her posture relaxed slightly, attention shifting back to the task instead of hovering over the girl's movements.
Dominic straightened.
Satisfied.
"See?" he said lightly. "No one's lost a finger yet. I'd call that a success."
The younger servant let out a small, surprised breath that almost turned into a laugh.
Almost.
"Y-yes, my lord."
Dominic gave a small nod.
"Let's try to keep it that way."
He turned and left before the moment could stretch too long.
Because lingering—
That was how people started asking questions.
The hallway outside the service wing was quieter.
Not empty.
Just… less tense.
Dominic walked slowly this time, letting his pace match his thoughts.
Alright… so suppression is immediate.
That part was clear.
Remove hesitation, remove fear, remove instability—
People functioned better.
Faster.
Cleaner.
But enhancement?
That was different.
He tested that next.
A pair of guards stood near the western corridor junction, reviewing a small ledger—likely shift rotations or patrol assignments. One spoke quietly, pointing at a line while the other frowned slightly, clearly trying to process something.
Dominic approached without announcing himself.
"Let me guess," he said as he stepped beside them, glancing at the page. "You're trying to make that look more complicated than it actually is."
Both guards stiffened slightly.
"My lord."
Dominic leaned in just enough to see the entries.
"Yes, that's definitely what's happening," he said. "You've overthought it."
The second guard frowned.
"I—my lord, I was just trying to—"
"Improve it?" Dominic offered.
"Yes."
Dominic nodded slowly.
"Admirable. Also unnecessary."
A pause.
Then—
"Keep it simple," Dominic added. "Complicated systems only work until someone forgets how they work."
That earned him a brief look of consideration.
Good.
They were thinking.
Dominic watched for a second.
Then—
Again—
Subtle.
Holy Nails.
This time, different.
Not suppression.
Enhancement.
A slight push toward focus.
A gentle acceleration of comprehension.
Not giving knowledge.
Just… making it easier to process.
The effect wasn't immediate.
Not like before.
But—
It was there.
The second guard's expression shifted.
Just slightly.
Confusion easing.
Understanding forming.
"…Right," the guard muttered. "If we rotate from the outer posts first, it keeps coverage consistent…"
The first guard blinked.
"That… actually works."
Dominic straightened.
There it is.
Slower.
Subtle.
But real.
He gave a small, satisfied nod.
"See?" he said. "Less thinking. More solving."
The second guard huffed out a quiet breath.
"Yes, my lord."
Dominic stepped away, continuing down the corridor.
Enhancement takes time… but it sticks.
That was the difference.
Suppression removed obstacles.
Enhancement built capability.
And both—
Required the person to meet it halfway.
Dominic slipped his hands into his sleeves, expression thoughtful—but not heavy.
More… mildly inconvenienced.
So I can't just fix everything instantly.
A pause.
Then—
That's annoying.
But also—
Expected.
This wasn't control.
It wasn't rewriting people.
It was… acceleration.
Adjustment.
Which meant—
If he wanted better results…
He had to actually create the conditions for it.
Dominic exhaled slowly.
So I have to do this properly.
Another pause.
Then—
A faint, amused smile.
That sounds like work.
He glanced down the corridor ahead, where more servants and guards moved with that same tight, controlled rhythm.
Still tense.
Still fragile.
But—
Better than before.
Dominic rolled his shoulders slightly as he continued forward.
Alright.
Let's see how far I can push this… without making it complicated.
Because if there was one thing he had no interest in—
It was creating more problems for himself later.
And right now?
This was starting to look like something he could fix.
Not perfectly.
Not instantly.
But—
Efficiently.
Segment 3
Dominic didn't need to go looking for the next problem. It found him.
He had barely made it halfway down the western corridor before the shift in the air caught his attention again—not fear this time, not exactly, but something sharper. Tension that hadn't yet broken, but was getting close. It was the kind of thing he had started recognizing quickly over the past day or two, the subtle tightening in posture, the way voices dropped but didn't quite stay calm, the hesitation right before someone decided whether to speak or stay silent.
Two servants stood near the entrance to a storage room, one older, one younger, both holding a small crate between them as if neither was entirely certain who was supposed to be responsible for it. A guard stood just a few steps away, arms crossed, watching with the kind of patience that wasn't actually patient at all.
"…I was told to move it here," the younger servant said quietly, though the edge in her voice betrayed how close she was to losing that composure.
"And I was told it stays in inventory until it's accounted for," the older one replied, equally restrained, though her grip on the crate had tightened enough that her knuckles were beginning to pale.
The guard exhaled through his nose. "Then maybe one of you should decide before we stand here all morning."
That didn't help.
Dominic slowed his steps, watching the exchange for just long enough to understand the problem.
Not the crate.
The uncertainty.
The hesitation to make a decision when the consequences of being wrong had very recently become… very real.
He stepped in without announcing himself, because waiting for permission was inefficient.
"Careful," he said lightly as he approached, glancing at the crate. "If you argue about it any longer, it might decide to move itself just to escape the conversation."
All three froze.
Then turned.
"My lord," the guard said immediately, straightening.
The servants followed a second later, both dipping into quick bows, though neither let go of the crate.
Dominic stopped beside them, looking between the three with a mildly curious expression, as if he had just walked into something vaguely entertaining rather than tense.
"Alright," he said, folding one arm loosely across his chest. "What's the verdict? Is it dangerous, cursed, or just inconvenient?"
The younger servant blinked. "My lord, it's—just supplies."
"Ah," Dominic nodded. "So the worst kind of threat."
A brief pause.
The guard almost smiled before catching himself.
Dominic noticed.
Good.
That meant they weren't completely locked up yet.
He shifted his attention back to the servants. "You were told to move it here," he said to the younger one.
"Yes, my lord."
"And you were told it stays in inventory," he said to the older.
"Yes, my lord."
Dominic nodded slowly, as if weighing something important.
Then he gestured toward the storage room. "Put it inside."
Both servants hesitated.
The older one spoke first. "My lord, if it hasn't been accounted for—"
"Then it will still be unaccounted for," Dominic said, his tone still light, but just a little firmer. "Only it'll be inside instead of in the hallway. Which is, generally speaking, where supplies belong."
The younger servant shifted her grip slightly, uncertainty flickering across her face. "But if that's not what was meant—"
Dominic tilted his head, looking at her for a moment, then at the guard, then back again.
"Let me ask you something," he said. "If I leave it here, does the problem go away?"
"No, my lord."
"And if you move it inside, does the problem get worse?"
A pause.
"…No, my lord."
"Then congratulations," Dominic said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the door. "You've successfully identified the less stupid option."
The guard coughed, covering it quickly.
The older servant exhaled through her nose, tension cracking just slightly as she adjusted her hold on the crate.
"Yes, my lord."
They moved.
Not hesitantly this time.
Just… moving.
Dominic watched them for a second as they carried the crate into the storage room, then shifted his attention to the guard.
"You looked like you were about to volunteer an opinion," he said.
The guard hesitated. "It wasn't my place, my lord."
Dominic hummed quietly. "Right. Because clearly standing there watching them struggle was the superior strategy."
A brief flicker of discomfort crossed the man's face.
Dominic didn't let it sit.
"Relax," he added. "I'm not criticizing you. I'm pointing out that if everyone waits for permission to think, nothing gets done."
The guard blinked.
Then nodded slowly. "Understood, my lord."
Dominic studied him for a second, feeling that same tension sitting just beneath the surface. Not fear directed at him—but fear of being wrong. Of stepping out of line. Of repeating whatever had led to the investigation in the first place.
He exhaled quietly.
Yeah… that's going to be a problem.
He didn't reach for his ability immediately.
Not this time.
Instead, he leaned slightly against the wall, crossing his arms in a way that looked more casual than deliberate.
"Let's try something," he said. "If you see something inefficient, you fix it. If you're wrong, someone corrects you. If you're right, things improve. Either way, the estate doesn't slow down. Simple enough?"
The guard frowned slightly, considering.
"Yes, my lord… but—"
"But what?"
"…If the correction is… severe?"
There it was.
Dominic let out a soft breath through his nose, glancing briefly down the corridor before looking back at him.
"Then," he said, tone still light but steady, "you make sure you're wrong about something small instead of something important."
The guard stared at him for a second.
Then, unexpectedly—
He let out a short, quiet laugh.
"Understood, my lord."
Better.
Not fixed.
But better.
Dominic straightened, pushing himself off the wall as the two servants stepped back out of the storage room, their movements noticeably more coordinated now that the decision had been made.
The younger one closed the door behind them, glancing briefly at the older servant as if waiting for confirmation she had done the right thing.
The older woman gave a small nod.
That was all it took.
Dominic watched the exchange, then shifted his attention inward for just a moment.
Alright… now let's reinforce it.
Subtle.
Controlled.
He reached out again—not broadly, not carelessly, but with intent.
A slight suppression of lingering hesitation.
A gentle reduction of that sharp edge of fear that made people second-guess themselves.
Not removing it entirely.
Just… turning it down.
The effect moved quietly through them.
The younger servant's shoulders loosened a fraction.
The older one's posture softened just slightly.
The guard's stance adjusted, weight shifting more naturally instead of rigidly.
None of them noticed.
But all of them changed.
Dominic nodded once, satisfied.
"See?" he said, stepping away. "No catastrophe. No disasters. And no one had to argue long enough to become interesting."
The younger servant blinked, then let out a small, almost disbelieving breath.
"Yes, my lord."
Dominic lifted a hand in a casual wave as he continued down the corridor.
"Try to keep it that way," he added. "It's a very convenient standard."
He didn't look back this time.
Didn't need to.
He could feel it.
The difference.
Small.
Incremental.
But real.
The tension hadn't disappeared—but it had shifted. Loosened just enough that people could act instead of freeze.
And more importantly—
They hadn't needed him to force it.
He had stepped in.
Redirected.
Reinforced.
Then moved on.
Dominic exhaled quietly as he walked, hands slipping back into his sleeves.
Personality first… ability second.
That seemed to be the pattern.
If he relied on the Nails alone, he'd end up patching problems instead of preventing them.
But if he guided things naturally—
Then used the ability to support that direction—
It worked better.
Cleaner.
More stable.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Also less work later.
Which, in his opinion, was the most important part.
He rounded the corner into another corridor, already scanning ahead for the next point of friction, the next moment where things might stall or break.
Because right now, the estate wasn't collapsing.
But it wasn't steady either.
And if he was going to fix that—
He needed to keep moving.
Keep adjusting.
Keep things just balanced enough that they didn't fall apart the moment he stopped paying attention.
Dominic let out a quiet breath, expression settling into something relaxed again.
Yeah… this is manageable.
Not easy.
But manageable.
And for now—
That was more than enough.
Segment 4
Dominic adjusted his pace again, not slowing enough to draw attention, but not moving so quickly that people felt rushed in his presence. There was a rhythm to it—something he was beginning to settle into without thinking too much about it. Walk, observe, intervene when necessary, move on before anyone had time to make it complicated.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was working.
And now that he understood the basics, it was time to stop fixing surface-level problems and start addressing the parts of the estate that actually mattered.
The core.
He found the first of them near the central administrative chamber—a man in his late forties, posture straight despite the long hours written across his face. The estate's senior steward, if Dominic remembered correctly. The kind of person who kept everything running without ever being seen doing it.
Or at least… that was how it was supposed to be.
Right now, the man stood over a spread of documents, reviewing them with a level of intensity that suggested he was expecting something to be wrong—even if it wasn't.
Dominic stepped into the room without ceremony.
"If you glare at it any harder," he said, glancing at the papers, "I'm fairly certain it'll confess to something it didn't do."
The steward startled—just slightly—but recovered quickly, turning and bowing.
"My lord."
Dominic waved a hand lightly as he approached. "Relax. I'm not here to audit you. I don't have the patience for that."
The man hesitated, then straightened, though the tension didn't fully leave his shoulders.
"I was reviewing the inventory reports, my lord. Ensuring everything aligns after… recent events."
"Which it doesn't," Dominic said casually.
The steward blinked. "My lord?"
Dominic gestured vaguely toward the papers. "It never does. Something's always off. The question is whether it matters."
A pause.
The man frowned slightly, clearly trying to determine whether that was a test or a statement.
Dominic didn't give him time to overthink it.
"Does anything important not align?" he asked.
The steward hesitated, then shook his head. "No, my lord. Nothing critical."
"Then congratulations," Dominic said. "You've discovered the difference between a problem and an inconvenience."
The man exhaled—subtle, but real.
"Yes… my lord."
Dominic stepped closer, resting his hand lightly on the edge of the table as he glanced over the documents. He didn't need to read them in detail. That wasn't the point.
He was reading the man.
Fatigue.
Pressure.
A constant expectation of error.
Someone in this position didn't need more fear.
He needed clarity.
Stability.
Confidence in his own decisions.
Dominic let his gaze linger for just a moment longer.
Then—
Subtle.
Focused.
Holy Nails.
This time, it wasn't hesitation he targeted.
It was something deeper.
A controlled enhancement of focus.
A reinforcement of decision-making clarity.
Not giving answers.
Just… making it easier for the man to trust his own judgment.
The shift wasn't immediate.
Not like suppression.
But Dominic felt it settle.
Slow.
Steady.
The steward's expression changed slightly—barely noticeable to anyone else, but clear enough to Dominic.
The tightness in his brow eased.
His posture adjusted—not dramatically, but enough to suggest he wasn't bracing for something anymore.
"…Then I will proceed with adjustments to the non-critical discrepancies," the man said after a moment, more certain now.
Dominic nodded once.
"That sounds like a reasonable plan."
He straightened, stepping back from the table.
Alright. That's one.
Not fixed.
But stabilized.
And more importantly—
Capable of stabilizing others.
Dominic didn't linger.
He moved on.
The next was easier to find.
The guard captain stood in the outer training yard, overseeing a small group running through basic drills. Or at least… attempting to. Their movements were stiff, overly precise, like they were more concerned with not making mistakes than actually performing well.
The captain noticed Dominic immediately, snapping to attention.
"My lord."
Dominic waved him down as he approached. "If you stand that straight any longer, I'm going to assume you've been turned into a statue."
A few of the guards shifted slightly, tension breaking just enough for a couple of them to hide faint smiles.
The captain didn't smile.
But the edge in his posture eased.
"My apologies, my lord."
Dominic glanced at the group, then back at him. "They look like they're trying not to get executed."
A pause.
The captain's jaw tightened.
"They are… aware of recent consequences."
"Mm," Dominic hummed. "That's one way to put it."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice just slightly—not secretive, but more focused.
"Are they improving?" he asked.
The captain hesitated.
"…No, my lord."
"Are they making mistakes?"
"Yes."
"Are those mistakes getting them killed?"
"…No, my lord."
Dominic tilted his head slightly.
"Then why are they training like they are?"
The captain didn't answer immediately.
Didn't have one.
Dominic let the silence sit for a second.
Then sighed softly.
"Fear's useful," he said. "Right up until it stops people from thinking."
He glanced back at the guards.
"They're not learning," he continued. "They're avoiding."
The captain's expression shifted slightly—recognition settling in.
Dominic stepped past him, addressing the group directly.
"Alright," he said, clapping his hands once—not loud, but enough to draw attention. "Quick question. If you mess up a drill, what happens?"
The guards exchanged glances.
No one answered.
Dominic raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing," he said after a moment. "That was the answer. Nothing happens."
A few of them blinked.
One shifted uncertainly. "My lord… with respect—"
"With respect," Dominic cut in lightly, "if we executed everyone who made a mistake during training, we'd run out of guards very quickly."
A pause.
Then—
A faint, reluctant chuckle from somewhere in the group.
Good.
Dominic nodded once.
"Try again," he said. "But this time, focus on getting it right, not avoiding getting it wrong. There's a difference."
They moved.
Still stiff.
But less so.
Dominic turned back to the captain.
"Fix that," he said, nodding toward the group. "Or they'll stay like this."
The captain nodded sharply. "Yes, my lord."
Dominic watched for a second.
Then—
Again—
Subtle.
Controlled.
Holy Nails.
This time, layered.
A suppression of excessive fear.
A slight enhancement of confidence.
A reinforcement of focus.
Not overwhelming.
Just enough to tip the balance.
The effect rippled through the group.
Postures loosened.
Movements became less rigid.
Not perfect.
But better.
Dominic exhaled quietly.
Yeah… this is where it matters.
Not individuals.
Groups.
Systems.
He stepped back, already turning away.
Because staying—
Would only make them rely on him.
And that wasn't the goal.
As he left the training yard, Dominic rolled his shoulders slightly, expression thoughtful but still relaxed.
So… key people first.
Stabilize them—
And everything else followed.
The steward handled operations.
The captain handled the guards.
Fix them—
And the estate fixed itself.
Dominic slipped his hands into his sleeves again, a faint, amused look crossing his face.
That's efficient.
Which, in his opinion, made it worth doing.
Because if he had to put in effort—
It might as well reduce the amount he needed later.
Segment 5
By the time Dominic circled back toward the main interior halls, the shift was no longer subtle.
It wasn't dramatic either—there were no sudden transformations, no visible turning point where everything simply worked—but the difference was there, woven into the movement of the estate itself. Servants passed one another without hesitation, exchanging brief words that carried purpose instead of uncertainty. Guards no longer stood as if waiting for judgment to fall, their attention still sharp but no longer rigid enough to snap.
It was… smoother.
Not perfect.
But smoother.
Dominic slowed slightly as he walked, letting his gaze drift over the passing activity without making it obvious he was watching as closely as he was. A pair of servants coordinated the movement of supplies down the hall without needing to stop and confirm every step. A guard redirected a younger attendant with a brief instruction instead of letting him stand there unsure of what to do.
Small things.
Individually, they meant nothing.
Together—
They mattered.
Dominic exhaled quietly through his nose.
Yeah… that's holding.
For now, at least.
He turned into the central corridor again, catching fragments of conversation as he passed.
"…no, it's already been moved to the west storage—"
"Then update the record and send word, don't wait for—"
"I am sending word."
Not tense.
Not sharp.
Just… functional.
Dominic's mouth curved slightly at the corner.
Better.
Much better.
He continued forward, his pace unhurried, his posture relaxed enough that no one felt the need to stiffen when he passed. That part, more than anything, seemed to matter. The less he acted like something important was happening, the easier it was for everyone else to stop acting like something terrible was about to.
A servant stepped out of a side passage just ahead of him, carrying a stack of folded linens. She adjusted her path instinctively when she noticed him, preparing to step aside.
Dominic lifted a hand slightly.
"If you dodge every time you see me," he said, "I'm going to assume I've become an obstacle."
The woman blinked, caught off guard, then hesitated before straightening instead of stepping away.
"My apologies, my lord."
"No apologies," Dominic replied easily. "Just don't drop those. That would actually be a problem."
A faint, almost startled smile flickered across her face.
"Yes, my lord."
She continued past him.
Without hesitation.
Dominic didn't turn to watch her go, but he noted it anyway.
Good.
That was exactly what he wanted.
Further down the corridor, he caught sight of the senior steward again, this time moving between rooms with a small ledger in hand, speaking briefly with a pair of servants before adjusting something on the page and moving on without pause. The difference from earlier was immediate. There was no second-guessing in his movements now, no lingering hesitation before decisions.
He wasn't rushing.
He was just… certain.
Dominic watched him for a second, then continued walking.
No need to interrupt.
That was the point.
The training yard echoed faintly through the open archway to his left, the rhythmic sound of drills carrying through the air. Dominic angled slightly toward it, glancing inside as he passed.
The guards had improved.
Not drastically—but enough.
Their movements weren't as stiff as before. There was still structure, still discipline, but it no longer looked like they were bracing for failure with every step. The captain stood at the edge, correcting where needed, but without the same underlying tension.
Dominic tilted his head slightly.
Yeah… that's definitely better.
Still not ideal.
But better.
And improving.
He stepped back into the main corridor, letting the sound of training fade behind him as he moved deeper into the estate.
This was the part that mattered.
Not the initial changes.
Not the immediate fixes.
But whether it held once he wasn't actively involved.
Dominic slowed again, pausing near one of the larger intersections where multiple hallways met. From here, he could see enough—servants moving through one corridor, guards rotating through another, a pair of attendants coordinating something near a side entrance.
No one stopped.
No one froze.
No one looked like they were waiting for permission to act.
Dominic leaned lightly against the wall, arms crossing loosely as he observed.
Alright… let's see if this keeps going without me.
A servant nearly collided with another as they turned the corner too quickly, both of them halting abruptly. For a brief moment, there was that familiar flicker of hesitation—the instinct to freeze, to defer, to wait.
Then—
"Left side," one of them said quickly, adjusting her grip on the tray she carried.
"Right," the other replied, stepping aside without argument.
They passed each other cleanly.
No delay.
No escalation.
Dominic's expression shifted slightly.
There it is.
Not perfect.
Not polished.
But functional.
He pushed himself off the wall and resumed walking, a faint sense of satisfaction settling in—not pride, not accomplishment, just a quiet acknowledgment that things were moving in the right direction.
Behind it all, though—
The pressure was still there.
His father's presence lingered in every tightened posture that hadn't fully relaxed, in every moment where someone moved just a little faster than necessary to avoid drawing attention. The memory of what had happened hadn't disappeared.
And it wouldn't.
Dominic exhaled slowly.
Good.
That part wasn't entirely a problem.
Fear, in moderation, kept people sharp.
It just couldn't be the only thing holding everything together.
He turned into another corridor, catching sight of a small group of servants speaking quietly near the far end. Their voices carried just enough for him to catch fragments as he approached.
"…it's different today."
"Better."
"Quieter."
"Not quieter," one of them corrected softly. "Just… easier."
Dominic's steps didn't falter, but the faint smile at the corner of his mouth returned.
Yeah… that's about right.
He passed them without interrupting, letting the conversation continue behind him as he moved on.
No need to insert himself into everything.
That wasn't the goal.
If anything, the goal was the opposite.
To make things work well enough that his presence wasn't required at all.
Dominic rolled his shoulders slightly, adjusting his sleeves as he walked.
Less work later.
That thought alone made the effort worth it.
By the time he reached the far end of the estate, the pattern had fully settled.
Movement.
Function.
Stability—thin, fragile, but real.
And most importantly—
It wasn't dependent on him standing in the middle of it.
Dominic slowed one last time, glancing back down the corridor he had just walked through.
People moved.
Tasks were completed.
Decisions were made.
Without hesitation.
Without fear taking over.
He let out a quiet breath, expression settling into something relaxed again.
Alright.
That holds.
For now.
And for now—
That was enough.
Segment 6
Dominic didn't stop walking, even when there was nothing immediately in front of him that needed fixing.
That, more than anything, was what told him things had shifted.
Earlier, every turn had revealed something—hesitation, confusion, tension just waiting to snap into something worse. Now, the estate moved without constantly tripping over itself. Not perfectly, not cleanly, but well enough that he wasn't being pulled from one issue to the next.
Which meant he had time to think.
A dangerous thing, in most cases.
But useful.
He stepped out into one of the quieter exterior walkways that overlooked the lower gardens, the late morning sun casting long, clean lines across the stone beneath his feet. A few attendants moved in the distance, tending to routine work with none of the rigid urgency from before. Even from here, he could see it—the difference in how people carried themselves.
Less bracing.
More doing.
Dominic rested his forearms lightly against the stone railing as he looked out over the grounds, expression calm, almost absent if anyone had been watching closely.
Alright… so that works.
Not the most sophisticated conclusion.
But accurate.
He shifted his weight slightly, gaze drifting without really focusing on anything in particular.
Fear breaks things.
That part was obvious now.
It pushed people to act faster, sure—but not better. Not cleaner. It created hesitation where there shouldn't be any, turned simple decisions into risks, and forced people to second-guess themselves even when they were right.
Useful in short bursts.
Terrible as a foundation.
Dominic exhaled slowly.
And fixing everything myself is worse.
That thought lingered a little longer.
Because he could.
With enough time, enough attention, enough careful use of his ability, he could walk through the entire estate and smooth out every flaw, remove every hesitation, reinforce every weakness until everything ran exactly the way it should.
It would work.
For a while.
Then it would break the moment he stopped.
He frowned slightly at that, more thoughtful than bothered.
Yeah… not doing that.
Too much effort.
Too much maintenance.
And more importantly—
Too much dependency.
Dominic pushed off the railing and resumed walking, hands slipping back into his sleeves as his thoughts settled into something more structured—not rigid, not overly complex, just… practical.
Fix the people who matter.
Let them fix everything else.
He nodded faintly to himself.
That's better.
Less work.
Better results.
He passed a pair of attendants near the far end of the walkway, both carrying small tools for garden maintenance. One of them paused briefly as Dominic approached, then kept moving after a second, adjusting her grip and continuing without hesitation.
No freezing.
No uncertainty.
Just movement.
Dominic didn't slow.
Didn't interrupt.
He just noted it as he passed.
Good.
His thoughts shifted again, not to the estate this time, but to the ability itself.
Holy Nails.
It wasn't power in the way he had first imagined.
There was no immediate control. No instant transformation. No way to simply decide that someone should be something different and have it be done.
At first, that had felt like a limitation.
Now—
It felt more like a rule.
One that made sense.
He turned down another corridor, his pace steady, his expression relaxed as he continued through the estate without drawing attention.
Enhancement needs effort.
That part was clear.
If someone didn't train, didn't practice, didn't try—
Then nothing really changed.
All it did was make improvement easier.
Faster.
But not automatic.
Suppression, though…
Dominic's gaze shifted slightly as he passed a guard adjusting his stance near a doorway, the man no longer rigid, no longer bracing for something unseen.
That's different.
Suppression didn't ask for effort.
It didn't wait for growth.
It simply… reduced.
Fear.
Hesitation.
Weakness.
And over time, if left in place long enough—
It could grind those things down to nothing.
Dominic exhaled quietly.
That's the dangerous part.
Not because it was uncontrollable.
But because it was easy.
Too easy.
He slowed slightly, just for a moment, then continued walking.
If I rely on that too much…
He didn't finish the thought.
Didn't need to.
Instead, he shifted focus.
Back to what mattered.
Back to what worked.
Personality first.
Ability second.
Fix structure.
Then reinforce it.
Dominic let out a small, almost amused breath under his nose.
This is starting to sound like actual work.
He glanced briefly down the corridor ahead, watching as a pair of servants coordinated the movement of supplies without needing to stop and confirm every step.
Still not perfect.
But better.
And that was enough.
Not perfection.
Not control.
Just—
Better.
Dominic rolled his shoulders slightly, the tension that had been there earlier now mostly gone, replaced with something lighter.
Not relief.
More like… satisfaction.
If things run smoothly…
He paused that thought for just a second.
Then finished it.
I don't have to deal with it later.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Yeah. That's definitely worth it.
He turned down one final corridor, his pace relaxed again, no urgency left in his movements.
Because there was nothing left pulling at him.
No immediate problem waiting to be solved.
No tension building toward something worse.
Just a system that—
For now—
Worked.
Dominic exhaled quietly as he walked, gaze drifting forward, already thinking ahead—not in some grand, strategic sense, but in the same practical way he always approached things.
If this worked…
Then what else could be made easier?
What else could be simplified?
What else could be adjusted so that he didn't have to keep stepping in?
Tools.
Processes.
Small improvements.
Nothing complicated.
Just—
Efficient.
His expression shifted slightly, something more thoughtful settling in beneath the relaxed surface.
Yeah… that's next.
Because if there was one thing Dominic understood better than anything else—
It was that the easiest life…
Was the one you built to run without you.