The courtyard was bathed in the pale, gray light of dawn. The air was crisp, carrying the sharp scent of wet stone and morning dew.
In the very center of the damp cobblestones, Edric sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, his breathing deep, steady, and deliberate.
Ever since waking up in this body as the disgraced Edric Artos, he had put off training his magic.
The original Edric had been a bloated, lazy, disaster, of a man. Someone whose physical frame was too weak to sustain the physical and mental strain of magecraft.
But now, after relentless physical conditioning, sparring until his lungs burned under Serah’s strict instruction, and dropping a massive amount of weight, his body was lean, fit, and corded with functional muscle.
He finally felt ready.
Edric focused inward, tracing the hidden pathways beneath his skin.
He could feel it, a dormant, thrumming warmth coiled tightly near his core. With a slow exhale, he coaxed his mana outward, guiding the ambient energy through his veins like water through a dry canal.
The power surged to his fingertips, making the air around his hands hum with static charge.
He pushed, trying to mold the raw magic into a tangible spark, but the mana flickered wildly before dissolving back into his skin with a sharp, stinging recoil. He winced, flexing his fingers.
Not quite there yet, he thought, suppressing a sigh. The control is still too rough.
He leaned back slightly, resting his hands on his knees as his mind drifted back to the web novel he had written in his past life.
If the timeline had played out like my original draft... I’d be rotting in a grave by now.
In the canon storyline, Edric of House Artos was a pathetic, arrogant villain. He had treated his betrothed, Lady Elena Sterling, with utter contempt, viewing her merely as a prize to elevate his own status.
His downfall had come swiftly at the Royal Academy, where he foolishly challenged Arden, the story's original protagonist, to a duel.
Arden had thoroughly humiliated him, leaving Edric’s reputation in tatters before his eventual, cheap demise.
Edric rubbed his temples. And now, Elena’s debut is right around the corner.
In his original draft, that debut was supposed to be a monumental narrative shift. It was the moment Arden stepped onto the grand political stage of the Western Marches.
The duchy is currently suffering from a devastating, mysterious drought, and Arden was meant to arrive, solve the crisis, save House Sterling, and finally win the Duke's approval.
Instead, Edric was standing here: alive, actively running his territory, and completely derailing the plot.
"I need to fix the timeline, correct the story," he thought to himself, "but first.."
As a high ranking noble in a kingdom where magic is prevalent, skills with the sword alone is not enough. As such, he needed to train as much as possible before his reunion with the original two protagonists.
He closed his eyes and relaxed his mind. He tried to re-enter the state he was in, but was interrupted by the sound of boots against the cobblestone path.
"Young Master."
Edric opened his eyes and looked up.
Gareth, House Artos' steward, stood near the archway. He offered a crisp, respectful bow as he placed one hand on his chest.
"Apologies for interrupting your morning routine, my lord," Gareth said, his voice dry and composed. "Master Javier has just passed through the main gates. His supply train has arrived, and he is requesting an immediate audience."
Edric wiped a faint sheen of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The physical training and mana practice would have to wait.
"No need for apologies, Gareth," Edric said smoothly, rising to his feet and adjusting his tunic. "Set up a meeting with Javier later today, I want to see if our gamble paid off."
"At once, my lord." Gareth answered.
Later that afternoon, Edric and his retinue gathered around his private solar, the faint scent of old parchment and warm tea filling the room.
Edric sat behind his heavy oak desk, flanked by Serah standing by the window, while Gareth waited at Edric's right with a stack of estate ledgers. Matthus, the head clerk of the estate, stood near the door, rubbing his calloused hands together, while Lira sat beside the desk, silently waiting to dip her quill into fresh ink.
The door swung open, and Javier strolled into the solar with a grand, theatrical flourish, tipping his battered hat.
"Ah, my glorious Lord Artos! It is a grand and splendid day to return to the majestic halls of Galehelm—"
"Save the theater for the taverns, Javier," Edric interrupted smoothly, leaning back in his chair with a faint, amused twitch of his lips. "Get straight to the point. What did you bring back?"
Javier didn't miss a beat. Unfazed, he pulled a thick, ink-splattered ledger from beneath his arm and opened it with a practiced snap.
"Forty heavy transport wagons, my Lord," Javier reported briskly, his eyes darting across his figures. "Filled to the brim with premium grain, dried rye, and preserved winter feed. Followed by a herd of over two hundred head of prime cattle and draft horses, all secured from the southern barons before the prices spiked."
Edric took the summary parchment Lira handed him, scanning the numbers. "The goods match the gold provided. Excellent work, Javier."
Javier puffed up his chest, "of course, my lord! I am, after all, a professional."
Ignoring his antics, Edric set the paper down, and looked up. "Were there any troubles along the road? Were the guards I assigned to you sufficient?"
Javier let out a sharp, dramatic sigh. "Ah, my Lord, a dozen guards for a convoy that size is like warning a bear with a toothpick! I had to hire additional mercenaries to keep your property safe."
Javier leaned in slightly, his tone dropping a fraction. "And then there was the border. Viscount Vance’s border patrol tried to force us into a detour to the city for 'customs export inspection.' A total sham, of course. Those scheming bastards at the Golden Hands Trading Company move fast, they're clearly trying to strangle your supply lines after you severed ties with them."
Edric’s eyes narrowed slightly. I figured as much. A merchant company of that standing will not sit idly by after I rejected them.
"I managed to grease the patrol captain's palm with fifty silver pieces to let us through without delay," Javier continued, wincing slightly as he rubbed his chest. "I'm afraid I took a significant loss on operational margins and my own personal commission to pull it off..."
Edric raised a hand, cutting off the merchant's subtle plea. "You can skip the pleasantries. Your personal costs will be reimbursed by the treasury. Along with a twenty percent bonus on your agreed commission."
Javier’s downcast face transformed instantly. A broad, dazzling grin split his face, and he bowed so low his hat nearly swept the rug. "You are as wise as you are generous, Lord Edric! A true visionary of statecraft!"
"Enough," Edric chuckled softly. He turned his attention to Matthus. "Matthus, I want you and Javier to head down to the lower valley immediately. Coordinate the transfer of the cattle and horses to the newly built livestock barns before nightfall."
He then gestured between the two. "Once the herds are settled, sit down with Matthus and draft the final payment contract."
"Right away, my Lord," Matthus gruffed with a firm nod.
Javier bowed once more, turning to follow the overseer out, but paused at the threshold. He turned back, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "My Lord... if I may ask, when might we discuss our next venture? My company is eager to serve--"
"Enjoy the hospitality of House Artos for now, Javier," Edric instructed calmly. "Rest, eat well, and let your horses recover. I will send for you when it is time."
"Understood, Lord Edric! I shall eagerly await your call!" Javier chimed, dipping his head before sweeping out of the solar, Matthus closing the heavy door behind them.
With the merchant gone, the atmosphere in the room settled back into quiet business. Edric rested his chin on his hands, looking toward Gareth. "What else do we have planned for today, Gareth?"
Gareth stepped forward, adjusting his spectacles as he unrolled a fresh report bearing a heavy wax seal.
"A dispatch arrived from the Dunmere mines just before noon, my Lord," Gareth reported, a rare, genuine note of satisfaction in his dry voice. "Baron-- I mean, Warden Alric, reported that they have successfully extracted their first official batch of iron ore."
Serah shifted near the window, raising an eyebrow. "Already? How much did they yield?"
"A significant amount, my lady," Gareth replied, handing the document to Edric. "Quality high-grade iron, they even found traces of silver, but none have been extracted so far.
Gareth pulled back a little, "it seems your hypothesis was correct, my lord. There are still untapped mineral veins in the mines."
Edric took the document, reading the production figures stamped at the bottom.
Yes! Edric screamed internally, pumping an imaginary fist in the air. Thank god I was right!
On the outside, however, Edric merely let out a slow, controlled breath. He set the paper down with immaculate composure, smoothing his coat and offering his inner circle a cool, serene smile.
"A satisfactory report," Edric said smoothly, his tone the picture of noble indifference. "Send an envoy to congratulate them on a job well done, along with additional rations."
"At once, my lord." Gareth answered.
Beside him, Lira quietly dipped her quill in ink, hiding a tiny, knowing smile behind her parchment as she caught the brief, triumphant spark in her lord's eyes.
Edric then turned towards Serah, "how about the new recruits, how are they doing?"
Serah faced him and crossed her arms, "their training is going smoothly, young master. They're running laps and doing strength training everyday. They'll be transitioning to the more advanced formation training you devised soon."
Cupping her chin, Serah continued, "Though I have to say, they need real combat experience, if it pleases you, I could take some of them to subjugate some bandits or monsters in the mountains."
Edric looked at her and back at the ledger, "Let's hold that off for now, once Vilkar's prototype is ready, I want to start training some of them with the use of it, when that's done, we can test them."
"Understood, young master." Serah answered smoothly.
"Anything else?" Edric asked.
"There is one final matter, Lord Edric," Gareth added, his tone growing distinctly more formal.
He pulled a heavy, cream-colored envelope sealed with crimson wax from his coat. "The formal invitation from Rosehall. Lady Elena’s debut is rapidly approaching. If we are to arrive in the Western Marches with a proper escort and make the gathering on time, you will need to ride out in two days' time."
Edric couldn't suppress a low, annoyed grumble, leaning back against his chair. "Two days..."
He had so much to manage here, the new iron yields, the grain distribution, his mana control. Traveling all the way to the Western Marches to wade into a sea of snobbish nobles and kick off the messiest political arc of his life was the last thing he wanted to do.
"I know, Gareth. I know," Edric sighed, running a hand over his face.
As he spoke, Edric’s gaze casually drifted toward the side of his desk. His eyes landed on Lira.
She was standing still, her quill hovering just above the ledger. Her shoulders had stiffened ever so slightly, and though her expression remained carefully composed, the subtle drop in her demeanor was unmistakable.
The quiet, gentle warmth she usually carried seemed to dim the second the topic of his betrothed was brought up.
"Gareth, go down and assist Matthus and Javier with the livestock and payment receipts," Edric instructed, smoothing down his coat. "Javier is a sharp merchant; I want your eyes on those ledgers so we don't accidentally overpay his bonus."
"A wise precaution, my Lord. I shall see to it immediately," the old steward replied with a polite bow, gathering his papers.
"And I shall see to our recruits, my lord." Serah continued as he followed the old steward out the door.
Lira quietly gathered her inkwell and stack of blank parchment, adjusting her apron as she prepared to follow them out in silent dutifulness.
"Lira," Edric called out softly.
She paused right at the threshold, her hand resting on the brass door handle. She turned back to face him, her dark brown eyes looking up with quiet composure. "Yes, Lord Edric?"
"Stay a moment," Edric said. "Leave the ledgers. I need to speak with you."
The heavy oak door clicked shut as Gareth and Serah departed, leaving the solar in a quiet, cozy stillness. The orange glow of the setting sun spilled through the arched windows, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk.
Lira remained standing near the threshold, holding her stack of blank parchment. She adjusted her apron, her dark brown eyes calm, polite, and attentive.
"Is there a report you need copied before nightfall, Lord Edric?" she asked softly.
"No, the ledgers are fine," Edric said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He gestured toward the room in general. "Just... take a moment. You've been writing since noon."
Lira dipped her head slightly, stepping closer to place the clean parchment neatly on the corner of his desk, but she remained standing. "It is no trouble, my Lord."
Edric looked up at her. When he had first woken up in this body and begun turning House Artos around, he asked for someone capable as an exchange for lowering the tax on a small village.
Lira had been that price, a quiet girl from the lower valley with a keen eye for numbers and a steady hand with a quill.
He remembered how meek she was at first. Now she commanded one of the highest respects from the household. She had turned from a commoner girl, into one of the foundations of House Artos.
"You heard Gareth," Edric said, his tone casual, though a light sigh escaped him. "I'll ride for Rosehall in two days for Lady Elena's debut. It's a tedious political obligation. I'd rather stay here and oversee the territory."
A tiny, almost imperceptible tilt appeared at the corner of Lira’s lips. She looked down at the neatly stacked parchment, her fingers smoothing the edge of the desk.
"The territory will be here when you return, Lord Edric," Lira said softly, her tone carrying that quiet, unshakeable steadying presence she had built over months of shared work. "Master Gareth and master Matthus will keep things running smoothly in your absence."
Edric relaxed a fraction, offering a brief nod. "Right. They will. And I know you will too."
He stood up, adjusting his tunic, "you're a valuable asset of my house, thank you, Lira."
Surprised by Edric's sudden warmth, Lira looked down to hide her rose tinted cheeks.
"I-- I'm me-- my lord?" She stammered as she tried to find the words.
"Pay it no mind," Edric remarked as he walked past her.
"I'm merely telling you that I appreciate everything you do for me." His coat lightly brushing her arm as he opened the door to head out.
Lira kept her head lowered, her dark brown eyes held a quiet warmth that was entirely foreign to her.