Location: Midgard - Branhal and Armathane Time: Day 145 - 166
Ten Days Ago(Day 145)
Alec sat alone in his study, pen in hand, the candlelight soft but sharp enough to catch the weight of decision in his face. Two parchment slips lay before him — unsealed, plain, marked only by initials and a single phrase at the bottom of each:
"By merit, not title."
He wrote the first name:
Mira of Branhal — Healer
The second:
Silla, Captain of the Branhal Watch
Each addressed with clarity. No flourishes. No courtly affectation. Just invitations — personal, deliberate.
He paused as his eyes drifted to a third blank parchment.
Lysa's name hovered unspoken in his mind. Capable. Connected. And, for now, problematic.
He moved the parchment aside.
Not yet.
He could see her clashing with serina in his mind's eye.
Alec sealed both letters with a soft press of wax bearing no crest — just a mark he'd begun to use quietly: an upward-pointing triangle, sharp and symmetrical.
Two messengers were summoned, their instructions clear:
"No delay. Hand to hand delivery. Return with confirmation."
The letters left before the ink had cooled.
Alec sat back.
Two more pieces moved onto the board.
Quietly. Carefully.
Exactly as he intended.
------------
Mira's Reaction – Healer's Pause
The village air was cool, tinged with that faint earthy smell that always followed a Branhal drizzle. Mira sat outside her cottage with her sleeves rolled, mortar and pestle in her lap, grinding dried thyme into dust.
A rider approached — cloaked, quiet, polite. The letter he handed her bore no royal seal. Only a triangle, pressed into wax.
She opened it without ceremony.
Her eyes scanned the page once. Then again, slower.
Alec. He remembered her.
Not just remembered. He was inviting her.
A place in his growing venture. Something… real. Something bold. The kind of thing no healer from a village had ever been asked to join.
She folded the letter, sat back, and stared out across the misted fields.
For the first time in months, Mira didn't feel tired. She felt… seen.
And that frightened her more than anything.
Silla's Reaction – Steel-Bound Loyalty
Silla read the letter standing up, her hand still resting on the hilt of her shortblade.
The messenger had addressed her with a strange mix of deference and disbelief — as if even he didn't understand why a village guard captain was receiving a summons from the man who'd rebuilt a duchy.
She recognized Alec's style immediately. Direct. Clean. No wasted ink.
An invitation to join the Alec. Said he had a job for her.
She exhaled slowly.
No flattery. No titles.
But trust.
She folded the letter with gloved fingers, then returned it to her belt.
If he thought she could serve something bigger, she would.
Not for honor.
Not for glory.
But because when Alec asked something — he always, always had a reason.
And that was enough.
The Reception - Day 166
The iron gate creaked open under the early sun, its frame still half-covered in scaffolding. Serina stood alone on the flagstones, dressed not in court silk but in the ash-grey and copper-trim tunic — fitted, utilitarian, dignified.
Across the courtyard, two riders approached. Dismounting without ceremony, Mira adjusted the strap of her satchel while Silla stepped forward first, her boots caked with road dust, shortblade at her side, posture firm as ever.
They didn't bow.
They didn't need to.
Serina smiled — polite, unreadable.
"You're Mira. And you must be Captain Silla."
Silla squinted slightly. "And you are?"
"Serina," she said. "Administrative overseer of internal operations. Daughter of Duchess Vaelora." A beat. "Alec's… partner. Professionally."
Mira offered a shallow nod. "We were told someone would receive us. I didn't expect—" she caught herself "—someone so high-ranked."
"Neither did Alec," Serina said smoothly.
There was a moment's silence — light, but taut.
Silla glanced around. "This place doesn't look like much."
"It will," Serina replied. "That's the difference between most nobles and Alec. He doesn't show power. He builds it."
Mira's eyes flicked to Serina's face. She noticed the way she said his name — Alec, not Lord Alec, not Ducal Advisor.
Close. Familiar.
"I didn't realize Alec had... made such deep ties here," Mira said softly.
Serina caught the tone — calm, gentle, but not blind.
"We work closely," Serina said. "I'm responsible for quite a number of tasks on his behalf."
"Must be exhausting," Silla said bluntly. "He doesn't seem the type to rest easy."
Serina turned to her, assessing her the way one might size up a sparring partner.
"You know him well, then?"
"Well enough to keep my guard up," Silla said, not rudely — just fact.
That made Serina smile for real.
"Good. You'll need that instinct here."
She turned and motioned them forward. "Come. There's a place prepared for you both. It's not a noble wing, but it's clean, close to the workstations, and secure."
Mira followed quietly. Silla trailed behind with her usual wariness.
"Just tell me one thing," Silla said after a few steps. "Why you? Why not him?"
Serina stopped.
"He asked me to," she said.
Mira tilted her head. "That's not a small thing. For Alec."
"No," Serina agreed. "It's not."
The rest of the walk passed in silence.
Measured.
Polite.
But not warm.
Not yet.
Three women. Each different.
But all pulled, in some way, toward the same gravity.
Earlier That Week
It had been late — one of those quiet administrative evenings where only the scratch of quill and the soft flutter of mapped pages marked the passing time.
Serina stood near the window, sipping herbal water, when Alec spoke without looking up.
"I've summoned two women from Branhal."
Her brow lifted.
"Not nobility?"
"No. Mira — a healer. And Silla, the village guard captain."
She leaned against the sill. "Why them?"
Alec didn't smile, but his voice had softened — just slightly.
"They were the first people in this world who didn't treat me like a curiosity or a threat. Just… a person."
Serina turned, watching him. "You're fond of them."
"I value what they gave me when I had nothing," Alec replied. "That doesn't go unnoted."
Serina tilted her head, eyes narrowing just enough to hide a flicker of something tight and unspoken. "You've never spoken about anyone like that before."
He looked at her then. "You've never asked."
"Then why are you tell me after you have invited them" she retorted now visibly annoyed.
Alec noted her mood change instantly.
"You are an important part of my life and work here."
"Staying under the hospitality of you and your mother.I couldn't just spring two new arrivals - women on you now, Can I?"
A long silence.
Then, casually — too casually — she said, "I suppose I should receive them when they arrive."
Alec blinked, caught off guard. "You would do that?"
She shrugged. "They'll need someone to explain how things work here. Might as well be me."
For a second, just a heartbeat, Alec hesitated.
"…Thank you."
She left the room without further explanation.
—
Moments later, alone in the corridor, Serina exhaled sharply through her nose.
"Stupid," she muttered. "He's not your man."
Her fingers clenched around the edge of her sleeve.
"But if he ever is someone's... I'll be damned if I don't know who."
She adjusted her posture, fixed her expression into the perfect balance of charm and command, and made her way to the gates.
Time to greet the healer and the fighter.
Time to measure what Alec had left behind in Branhal.
Later At Night(Serina POV)
They weren't what I expected.
I had imagined village women — weathered, rough, simple in the way people from villages like Branhal usually are. Loyal, maybe, but rural.
Silla matched that.
Broad-shouldered. Practical. No diplomacy in her body or voice. She sized me up like I was a distant cousin of a sword, something dangerous if held wrong. She didn't care for polish, didn't care for subtlety, and didn't care about me.
But she didn't threaten me.
Alec wouldn't ever look at her twice. She's strong, sure. Loyal. A shield in the shape of a woman.
But not dangerous to me.
Not like Mira.
Mira was different.Younger than silla. Older than her. Composed in a way that made silence feel like it belonged to her. She didn't say much — but when she did, it had weight. Not because she was trying to impress me, but because she didn't need to.
She was beautiful in the way a forest is beautiful. Not ornate — undeniable. Her voice was soft, but steady. Her eyes never darted. And when she looked at me… she didn't see a duchess's daughter.
She saw someone standing in Alec's light.
That made my chest tight — and I didn't like why.
Later, alone, I undressed by the mirror.
The fitted tunic peeled away easily. It had been stiff with dust and heat and tension. I wore nothing underneath but the thin shift underclothes.
I stood there in front of the polished metal, lit by nothing but the oil lamp behind me.
Sixteen. Nearly seventeen.
I wasn't a child anymore.
I studied my shoulders, the curve of my waist, the shape of my hips beginning to bloom. My chest — still modest, but firm, defined. My lips — fuller than they used to be. My hair was tied back today, but a few golden strands had slipped out and clung to my face.
I wondered — not for the first time — how Alec saw me.
Did he think of me as a child?
A burden of duty passed from mother to daughter?
Or did he see what I was becoming?
I touched my collarbone. Just lightly. Nothing sensual. Just… curious.
I wasn't in love with him.
I didn't even know if I could be. He was unreadable. Cold, sometimes. Unfeeling, often. But always present. Always decisive. And I was always watching him.
That meant something.
Didn't it?
I turned from the mirror, pulled on my linen robe, and sat at the desk. I stared at the open logbook of supply requests and courier assignments.
My job. My place.
He gave it to me.
He chose me.
That meant something too.
Whatever Mira was — however striking, however dangerous — she was part of the before. Alec's first anchor in this world.
But I was part of the future.
And whether he saw me as a girl, or a partner, or nothing at all...
He was building an empire with my mother.
And someday, one way or another, I would be standing beside him.
Lover or not.
I will just have to carve out my place in his heart.