The responsibility did not feel ceremonial.
It felt heavy.
Leon stood before a larger map than any Valcrest had ever owned. It covered not only his lands but four neighboring minor houses. Farmlands. Trade roads. Weak watchposts. Forest edges that stretched like jagged teeth across the region.
Seraphine had departed at dawn.
She had not left soldiers.
She had left expectation.
"If instability spreads beyond your trench," she had said, "it becomes your failure."
Leon understood what that meant.
If another house fell to the forest, the empire would intervene. And when empires intervene, they do not withdraw cleanly.
His father stood beside him.
"This is beyond our traditional reach," the older man said quietly.
"Yes," Leon replied.
"And you intend to stretch it."
Leon nodded once.
"Not stretch. Reinforce."
The first problem surfaced within days.
A messenger from House Rivenmark arrived at Valcrest's gate before noon, dust-covered and shaken.
"They breached the southern woodline," the man gasped. "Not like before. Small units. Fast. They avoided walls and struck granaries."
Leon's jaw tightened.
"Casualties?"
"Three dead. Supplies burned."
It was not an attempt to destroy Rivenmark.
It was a demonstration.
Testing secondary targets.
Leon turned toward his father.
"If Rivenmark collapses, panic spreads."
His father nodded grimly.
"And if panic spreads, the empire declares emergency control."
Leon did not hesitate.
"We ride."
Rivenmark's lands were smaller than Valcrest's.
Weaker walls.
Fewer trained guards.
When Leon arrived, smoke still drifted faintly from charred granaries.
Lord Rivenmark himself stood near the damaged structures, face drawn.
"You," the man said sharply as Leon approached. "You negotiated with them."
"I established a boundary on my land," Leon corrected calmly.
"And now they strike mine."
Leon did not argue.
He walked the perimeter instead.
Claw marks were visible along the woodline, but none approached the main wall.
They had not tried to conquer.
They had disrupted.
Leon turned back to the lord.
"How many guards do you have?"
"Thirty."
"Trained?"
The man hesitated.
"Some."
Leon nodded.
"We restructure your patrols."
"You presume much," Rivenmark snapped.
Leon met his gaze evenly.
"You can either restructure or burn."
Silence fell.
Rivenmark's anger warred with fear.
"Fine," he muttered at last.
Leon spent the next two days in Rivenmark territory.
Three armored warriors stood beside him as he drilled their guards.
The same principles.
Overlapping shields.
Staggered spear depth.
Rotating rear line.
The guards struggled at first.
They were not used to coordinated movement.
They fought individually.
Leon corrected relentlessly.
"You are not heroes," he repeated. "You are a wall."
On the third repetition of the formation drill, something shifted.
The guards moved in rhythm.
Not perfectly.
But intentionally.
The system pulsed faintly.
Regional formation influence detected.
Battlefield authority extending beyond primary territory.
Leon felt it.
His command was no longer confined to Valcrest.
He was shaping structure elsewhere.
That mattered.
The next test came sooner than expected.
At dusk on the fourth day, golden eyes appeared along Rivenmark's woodline.
Not one.
Several.
Smaller units.
Not burrowers.
Bone-armored figures.
They did not rush.
They waited.
Leon stepped forward, spear planted.
The Rivenmark guards formed behind him.
Imperfect.
But aligned.
The bone-armored creatures advanced slowly.
Testing range.
Testing reaction.
One darted forward suddenly.
A Rivenmark guard flinched.
Leon shifted instantly, filling the gap.
"Hold," he commanded sharply.
The formation tightened.
The bone-armored creature struck again, this time at the right flank.
Shields overlapped just in time.
Leon thrust in clean rhythm.
The creature withdrew.
The skirmish lasted only minutes.
No deaths.
No breach.
The bone-armored figures retreated into the trees.
Lord Rivenmark stared at Leon.
"They would have broken us before," he admitted quietly.
"Yes."
"And now?"
Leon lowered his spear.
"Now they reassess."
That night, Leon stood alone near Rivenmark's wall.
Three armored warriors at his back.
The golden-eyed leader emerged from the forest once more.
"You spread," it observed.
"Yes."
"You strengthen weaker lines."
"Yes."
The creature's gaze sharpened faintly.
"You expand authority."
Leon did not deny it.
"You test adjacent territory."
"Yes."
Silence lingered.
"You provoke response," the leader said calmly.
Leon's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You test indirectly."
The creature's lips curved faintly.
"We measure adaptability."
"And what do you see?"
The golden eyes gleamed.
"You learn quickly."
Leon exhaled slowly.
"You do not attack directly."
"Not yet."
There it was again.
Not yet.
Leon's grip tightened on the spear.
"If you seek expansion, do it openly."
The leader's gaze did not waver.
"We are expanding."
It gestured faintly toward the darker forest interior.
"You have only seen the edge."
Leon felt a cold awareness move through him.
There was more.
Much more.
The leader stepped back.
"Strengthen your region," it said quietly.
"You will need it."
Then it vanished.
Leon stood still for several seconds after it disappeared.
Three warriors.
Thirty Rivenmark guards.
Valcrest and its neighboring houses under partial stabilization.
It was not enough.
But it was progress.
When Leon returned to Valcrest days later, a second messenger awaited him.
This one bore imperial insignia again.
"Report from House Ardent Vale," the messenger said grimly. "They request assistance."
Leon did not hesitate.
"They are further west."
"Yes."
"Forest pressure?"
The messenger nodded.
Leon looked at the map again.
The attacks were not random.
They were shaping the region.
Forcing him outward.
Stretching his influence.
Testing his capacity.
The system pulsed faintly.
Regional influence expanding.
Current capacity sufficient for localized defense only.
Localized.
Leon exhaled quietly.
They were drawing him into broader conflict.
He looked at his three armored warriors.
Not an army.
But the beginning of one.
He turned toward his father.
"We answer Ardent Vale."
His father studied him.
"You are becoming a regional commander."
Leon shook his head slightly.
"No."
He picked up his spear.
"I am becoming necessary."
Far beyond the forest's edge, the golden-eyed leader climbed a ridge and looked toward the growing cluster of minor houses aligning under Valcrest's structure.
"He extends," a deeper voice murmured.
"Yes," the leader replied.
"And if he unifies them?"
The golden eyes narrowed slightly.
"Then the next escalation will not be subtle."
The forest stirred.
The region trembled.
Leon mounted his horse at dawn once more.
The trench no longer defined the conflict.
The region did.
And he had stepped fully into it.