Three months after Michael’s birth, Urelias Territory no longer looked like a place the surrounding Lords could safely ignore.
The change had not happened all at once, and that was probably why Antony himself had been slow to notice it. There had been no dramatic breakthrough, no sudden flood of treasure, no miraculous army appearing overnight, and the Territory Core beneath the manor was still stubbornly Red despite the increasingly visible orange glow flickering beneath its surface.
Yet every week brought something new. Another road completed. Another workshop opened. Another refugee family registered. Another caravan arriving from beyond the borders. Another patrol route reorganized. Another warehouse filled. Another section of wall reinforced.
Individually, none of those things seemed extraordinary but together, they were beginning to change the identity of the territory.
What had once been a quiet settlement built around the manor and market was slowly taking on the shape of an actual city.
Antony noticed it most clearly one morning when he stood on the eastern balcony of the manor with Michael resting against his chest.
The baby had finally learned that there were things in the world more interesting than sleeping, eating, crying, and grabbing Antony’s hair.
Unfortunately, one of those things was now the territory itself.
Michael stared outward with wide blue eyes, his tiny head turning slowly as movement below caught his attention. Golden hair covered his head more thickly now, still soft and short but obvious enough that there was no mistaking whose son he was.
His cheeks had filled out, his face had lost the last traces of newborn wrinkling, and he had somehow reached the point where even Antony had to admit he had become ridiculously good-looking.
Not that he intended to say that near Roxanna when she had already spent three months reminding him of his first opinion.
Michael made a small noise and shifted inside the cloth carrier strapped against Antony’s chest.
He looked down.
"What?" He softly asked.
Michael stared back, eyes filled with curiosity.
"What exactly are you asking me?"
The baby opened his mouth but nothing came out except a small bubble that loudly popped as he blew.
Antony nodded seriously.
"Excellent point."
Behind him, Roxanna laughed.
He turned and looked at her, a smile on his face.
She was sitting at a small table near the balcony doors, long white hair falling over one shoulder while she read through one of the territory reports Antony had abandoned at breakfast.
Three months of recovery had restored much of the color and strength to her body. The complete weakness that had followed the pregnancy was gone, and Antony could feel the faint pressure of divine mana returning around her again.
It was not compared with what she had once possessed but enough that the servants had started noticing strange things happening around her again.
Flowers blooming when she stayed too long in the garden. Light lingering around her fingertips when she became emotional.
The occasional spoon floating for several seconds before dropping because she forgot her control was still unstable.
He had wisely decided not to comment on that last one.
She closed the report.
"You’re having another conversation with someone who cannot answer you."
"He answers."
"He makes noises."
"Communication doesn’t need words, I’m his dad, of course I know what he’s talking about."
"Yesterday he screamed because you stopped him from chewing your sleeve."
"He felt strongly about the matter, you wouldn’t understand. It’s sort of a secret code."
Roxanna smiled and rose from the chair. She crossed the balcony and stopped beside him, gently adjusting the little blanket wrapped around Michael’s lower body.
"He looks awake."
"He has been awake for almost twenty minutes."
"That might be a record."
"Don’t jinx it."
Roxanna glanced at him.
"Why?"
"Because now he’ll decide to stay awake for six hours."
She laughed.
Michael shifted again, turning his face toward the sound of his mother’s voice.
Roxanna immediately softened.
"There you are."
She touched one finger against his cheek.
Michael stared at her for a moment before fully recognising her and broke into smile.
Roxanna froze.
Antony narrowed his eyes.
"That one was definitely for you."
"Of course it was, I’m his mother."
"He doesn’t smile at me like that."
"He does."
"Not that much."
She ooked suspiciously pleased with herself.
"Perhaps he simply prefers me," she smugly said.
He stared at his son.
"Traitor."
Michael kicked once inside the carrier as though protesting.
Roxanna burst out laughing.
A knock came from the room behind them. Antony’s expression immediately changed.
"Come in."
Oren entered carrying a thin stack of documents.
He slowed when he saw Michael.
"My Lord."
Antony raised a hand.
"If that stack is more than five pages, leave."
Oren looked offended.
"It is seven."
"Then definitely leave."
"It’s regional correspondence."
He loudly sighed.
Roxanna gave him an amused look.
"Go."
"I am technically spending time with my son."
"You have been carrying him for an hour."
"Exactly. We’re busy."
Oren cleared his throat.
"I can return later."
Roxanna shook her head.
"No. If you leave, he’ll invent another reason."
Antony looked betrayed.
"Honey."
"Sweetheart."
He stared at her.
She sweetly smiled.
"Go be a Lord."
He sighed and carefully unfastened the carrier. Michael immediately made an unhappy sound as Antony lifted him out.
"No, no, no. Don’t start."
Roxanna carefully took him. He settled almost immediately.
Antony eyes narrowed.
"That was personal."
She kissed the baby’s forehead.
"Go."
He pointed at his son.
"We’ll discuss this later," he said as he gently touched his cheek. Michael yawned and leaned into his touch.
Oren was trying not to laugh.
Antony noticed.
"You too."
"I said nothing," Oren defended himself.
"Your face did."
They left the balcony together.
The council chamber had changed almost as much as the territory.
Three months earlier, Antony had been able to fit nearly every important official around one long table.
Now there were too many.
Representatives from Agriculture, Roads and Construction, Trade, Civil Registration, Health, Security, Resources, and the newly formed Education Office sat around the chamber, while General Alric and Commander Seris occupied their usual positions near the territory map.
Antony entered and immediately noticed several unfamiliar documents stacked near Oren’s seat.
"I hope those aren’t mine," he jokingly said.
"They are,my Lord," Oren calmly replied.
"No."
"They arrived this morning," Seris said.
"Send them back," he said as he took his sit.
Seris laughed out loud at that.
Alric leaned against the table.
"You might want to read at least one."
Antony turned towards him.
"What happened?"
Oren placed the first letter in front of him.
"Another trade request."
He looked at the seal.
"Who?"
"Lord Marcell Rendal. Red Core. Human territory southwest of us," Oren said.
Antony opened it.
The wording was polite, almost excessively so.
Urelias Territory would provide preserved grain, medicinal herbs, and limited access to the eastern merchant road. In exchange, Marcell’s territory would provide iron ore, leather, and several types of alchemical plants Antony’s territory did not naturally produce.
He read it twice.
"That’s reasonable."
Oren nodded.
"The tariff rates are slightly high," he said.
"How high?" Antony asked.
"Eight percent above what we normally charge."
He looked up.
"Why?"
"Because he wants guaranteed access during winter."
Antony considered that.
"How bad are his roads?"
"Terrible," Seris answered without hesitation. "Two caravans were stuck there during the rains last season."
Antony tapped one finger against the table.
"So he’s paying for reliability."
"Essentially," Oren said.
Antony handed the document back.
"Negotiate six percent above normal and cap the guaranteed transport volume."
Oren nodded.
"No objection to the arrangement itself?"
"No."
Seris looked amused.
"You’re getting better at this."
"I was always good at this, I just didn’t want to do it."
"No, you’re lying."
Antony frowned.
"You are increasingly disrespectful to your Lord."
"I learned from Lady Roxanna," she said, a smug smile on her lips.
Antony immediately looked away.
"Continue."
Oren placed another letter down.
"Second request. Stonefolk territory north."
Antony’s eyebrows rose.
"That’s farther away."
"Exactly."
"Why are they contacting us?"
Oren smiled faintly.
"Because your roads are beginning to matter."
Antony went quiet as he thought about it.
Oren expanded the regional map and several colored routes appeared.
A few months earlier, most caravans bypassed Urelias Territory entirely. Now three trade routes crossed close to the borders.
One entered through the eastern gate. Another ran south toward neighboring Human and Beastkin settlements. The third passed near the northern woods before splitting toward two mining territories.
Antony stared closely at the expanded map.
"When did that happen?" He asked as he continued checking the documents.
Alric laughed.
"You really haven’t noticed?"
"I’ve been busy with all this increasing paperwork... and fatherhood."
"Clearly." Oren pointed toward the routes. "Your roads are safer than several neighboring territories. Your patrols actually respond when caravans report monster attacks. Bandit activity inside our borders is almost nonexistent. Merchants notice these things."
Antony frowned.
"Bandits should be nonexistent."
Oren spread his hands.
"You’d be surprised."
"I am constantly disappointed by this world," he mumbled.
One of the trade officials spoke.
"My Lord, merchant traffic increased twenty-three percent this month."
Antony looked toward her.
"Twenty-three?"
"Yes."
"That quickly?"
"Its mostly smaller caravans." She pushed a report toward him. "Food, ore, cloth, basic medicines, crafted tools. A lot of them are using Urelias Territory as a transit point now instead of a destination."
He read the numbers.
That changed things; transit meant tariffs, tariffs meant revenue, revenue meant more construction, construction meant more population capacity, and all of that pushed the Territory Core closer to Orange.
Alric folded his arms.
"This is good," he said.
"It is," Antony acquainted.
"You don’t sound pleased."
"I am."
"You’re frowning."
"I’m thinking."
"That’s usually when problems happen."
Antony ignored him.
Oren changed the map again and small territorial markers appeared.
"There’s another reason these letters are increasing."
Antony already suspected what was coming.
"Rankings."
He nodded.