The journey from the ruins of Astapura to the heart of the Valerion Empire was a long, exhausting procession. Elara sat inside a heavy wooden carriage. Its windows were blocked by black iron bars coated with gold paint—Valerion's way of displaying power: even a prison for a princess had to look expensive.
Through the gaps in the bars, Elara observed the remains of her plundered nation. She saw military carts hauling marble statues from her ancestral temples and stacks of parchment scrolls that had survived the flames. Behind the carriage line, the people of Astapura stumbled forward with hands bound to long ropes, following the tireless hoofbeats of Valerion's cavalry. The smell of dust, sweat, and horse dung filled the air throughout the journey.
Kaelen never approached her carriage. The Emperor always remained at the very front, riding his great black horse without looking back. To him, this relocation was not about humanity, but asset mobilization.
The capital of Valerion, Obsidiana, was built with rigid military logic. Its buildings were made of towering gray granite, with streets wide enough for battalion formations to pass without obstruction. There were no ornamental plants or bright colors here. Obsidiana's aesthetic was about structural strength and order.
As Elara's carriage entered the palace courtyard, she saw thousands of servants and soldiers standing in rows with heads bowed. Their movements were precise; no whispers, no dragging footsteps. Their obedience to Kaelen felt mechanical.
Kaelen dismounted his horse at the top of the marble steps. He handed the reins to an adjutant and looked toward Elara's carriage. His gaze contained no emotion, only technical observation.
"Take her to the Council Hall," Kaelen ordered with a flat voice that cut through the silence. "Wash her face, give her clean clothes. I don't want my ministers thinking I brought a useless burden into this palace."
Two hours later, Elara stood in the center of the Council Hall. The room was circular with a massive oak table in the middle. Sunlight entered through narrow slits in the ceiling, illuminating dust floating in the air. Seven ministers in dark robes sat in a circle. Kaelen sat in the highest chair, watching without blinking.
"So, this is the Princess of Astapura you spoke of, Your Majesty?" asked Lord Malakor, the logistics minister, in a skeptical tone. "She looks too fragile to handle technical problems."
Elara didn't wait for permission to speak. "If you measure someone's capabilities solely by their physical appearance, Lord Malakor, I doubt how this empire's logistics are managed without chaos."
Malakor's eyes widened. "How dare you! Valerion is built on concrete and steel calculations. That Silver Valley irrigation you're so proud of is impossible without thousands of workers dying in vain or absurd miracles. The water flow there is too wild for ordinary earthen canals."
Elara stepped forward toward the map table, ignoring the guards' sharp stares. "That's because you build dams by piling stones to resist the current directly. That's inefficient. Water pressure will always destroy static foundations."
She took a quill pen and drew a diagram on blank parchment. "The key to Silver Valley is a layered sluice gate system with a twelve-degree gradient. We don't resist the current; we redirect it to underground tanks lined with fired clay. During drought, the difference in air pressure from ventilation holes will push the water out. This is purely mechanical calculation."
"Air pressure won't be strong enough to push water to higher ground," Malakor interrupted.
"It will be if you understand the principle of siphoning," Elara replied. "But I suppose you're too busy counting weapons to remember the basics of fluid distribution."
Kaelen stood and walked around the table. He stopped right beside Elara, looking at the diagram. The smell of weapon oil and a sharp cold scent emanated from his clothing.
"One thing you didn't calculate, Princess," Kaelen spoke without looking at her face. "That system needs monthly ventilation maintenance to prevent blockage. Your people are now my war captives. What do you think they'll do to that water tank if they want to sabotage me?"
Elara fell silent. Kaelen's logic was razor-sharp. "They will maintain it if you give them practical reasons to stay alive."
Kaelen snorted. "They will maintain it because they fear me. And you will be here to ensure those technical instructions are executed without error."
Kaelen turned to Malakor. "Give her access to the technical library. Provide her with twenty-four-hour surveillance. She may not leave the palace without my permission."
"Will she be placed in the concubine pavilion, Your Majesty?" asked a minister.
"She is a state asset," Kaelen answered coldly. "Don't confuse imperial efficiency with bedroom affairs. That was the mistake this girl's father made, and you see for yourselves where he is now."
That evening, Elara was escorted to a room in the palace's farthest wing. Her room was spacious, but every corner was functional. The door was immediately locked from outside after she entered.
The door reopened when Kaelen entered alone. The man kept his distance, standing near the wooden table. Candlelight highlighted his harsh facial lines.
"You think you proved something in the hall earlier?" Kaelen asked.
"I only showed facts," Elara answered.
Kaelen moved forward one step. "Listen to me. I brought you here not because I'm impressed by your courage. I brought you because you're useful for stabilizing infrastructure in the East."
He paused, letting the silence press down on the atmosphere.
"But usefulness has limits. Many people in this palace want to eliminate you. Don't make mistakes. Don't try to send messages outside. Don't try to manipulate anyone with moral rhetoric."
Kaelen walked toward the only burning candle. With two fingers wrapped in black leather gloves, he pinched the candle's wick. He extinguished its flame with a slow motion, destroying the light in the room.
"One wrong footstep in these corridors, and I'll make sure you regret surviving the ruins of Astapura," Kaelen's voice sounded closer in the darkness. "Here, I am the only authority that determines whether you live or die. Remember that."
Kaelen left, leaving the sound of the door locking again.
Elara stood in the pitch darkness. Her hands clenched into fists. Kaelen might think he could extinguish light, but Elara was accustomed to working underground with her irrigation systems. She didn't need light to destroy the gears of this empire; she only needed time and the right opening.