The strategy-room doors slammed shut behind Ramona, cutting off the noise of the capital.
She barely noticed. The nobles could gossip, the merchants could argue, and Lady Evelyn Lin could host another poetry salon while parading her ridiculous waist before half the city.
Ramona had four years.
She intended to use every one of them.
She stood over the massive topographical map covering the strategy table. Mountains rose from carved wood, rivers cut through painted valleys, and military roads were marked with colored pins.
Her finger moved across the northern provinces, stopping at the major roads, bridges, rivers, and supply routes.
She knew which roads would become death traps.
Which bridges would fail first.
Which cities would run out of food.
She had no intention of making those mistakes again.
“My lady.”
Nanny Wilson entered carrying a silver tray piled with roasted pheasant, dark rye bread, vegetables, and a decanter of spiced wine.
“You skipped the morning assembly again. Lord Vance sent a courier asking whether you had fallen ill, and the steward is beside himself because you refused to attend Lady Evelyn's poetry salon.”
Ramona picked up the carving knife and cut herself a thick piece of pheasant.
“Let Lord Vance send his couriers. As for the steward, tell him that if he mentions Lady Evelyn's waist to me again, I'll reassign him to the northern timber camps.”
Wilson blinked.
The old nanny had spent years trying to smooth Ramona's sharp edges into courtly grace. The woman standing before her now seemed to have forgotten what courtly grace was supposed to accomplish.
“You've changed, Ramona.”
Ramona took another bite.
“I've learned what matters.”
She pushed the plate aside and looked directly at Wilson.
“Listen carefully. Everything we do from now on falls under three priorities.”
Wilson straightened.
“What priorities, my lady?”
“Supplies, defenses, and people.”
Ramona pointed toward the southern provinces.
“First, supplies. Send private couriers to every Monroe granary. No official channels and no merchant guilds. Stop our grain exports to the capital and double our reserves of wheat, flour, rice, beans, salted beef, and dried vegetables. Move everything into the underground vaults beneath the estate and keep the purchases quiet.”
Wilson frowned.
“Stop the exports? The merchants' guild will protest.”
“Let them. Food will become more valuable than gold.”
Wilson slowly nodded.
Ramona moved her finger across the estate grounds on the map.
“Second, defenses. Contact Master Hayes at Ironforge. Cancel every decorative commission in his workshop and put his entire operation toward steel plating, reinforced gates, door braces, window shutters, barricades, and other defensive equipment.”
She tapped the estate perimeter.
“Reinforce the outer wall before winter. Strengthen the foundations, add a second gate, and build an emergency tunnel beneath the western garden. If the main gate falls, I don't want everyone trapped inside.”
Wilson's eyebrows rose.
“An escape tunnel?”
“An escape route.”
Ramona traced the drainage system.
“Put iron grates over every drainage channel. Stockpile timber, coal, lamp oil, rope, blankets, tools, and construction materials. Start buying horses as well, but spread the purchases across several merchants so nobody notices how many we're acquiring.”
Wilson wrote everything down.
“And the third priority?”
“People.”
Ramona crossed to the iron safe and unlocked it. She removed a military personnel file and placed it on the table.
Captain Julian Vance.
Wilson immediately recognized the name.
“The younger Vance?”
“Yes.”
“He was demoted last month.”
“Because he refused an order.”
“People say he's reckless.”
“People say a lot of things.”
Ramona opened the file. Julian's military record was excellent, with outstanding marksmanship, superior close-combat scores, and repeated commendations for battlefield judgment. His disciplinary record was considerably less impressive, containing three charges of insubordination, one unauthorized deployment, and a confrontation with a superior.
The reason was buried in the final report.
His commanding officer had ordered the Third Vanguard to abandon a civilian settlement. Julian refused, returned with a handful of soldiers, and brought forty-three civilians out alive.
The army punished him for disobedience.
Ramona closed the file.
“Find him.”
Wilson looked up.
“He's still at the Third Vanguard garrison.”
“For another two weeks. Buy out his commission and offer him command of the Monroe estate guard.”
Wilson nearly dropped her pen.
“My lady, the Ministry of Defense will notice.”
“Let them.”
“He may refuse.”
“Then give him a reason not to.”
Wilson studied her.
“You've already decided he's the man you want.”
“I know what he's capable of.”
Ramona opened another ledger.
“And the people under our protection will need more than soldiers.”
She began listing medical supplies.
“Antibiotics, surgical instruments, bandages, antiseptics, pain medication, disinfectants, fever reducers, and clean water containers. Use multiple merchants. Avoid large purchases from the same supplier.”
Wilson frowned.
“How much?”
“As much as we can obtain without attracting attention.”
She looked back at the map.
“Supplies keep us alive. Defenses keep threats outside. People make sure there's someone left to protect.”
Wilson slowly lowered her pen.
“You've thought this through.”
“Enough.”
Before Wilson could ask what she meant, a knock sounded at the door.
A young servant entered and bowed.
“My lady, there's a message from Lord Vance.”
“What does he want?”
“He asks why you've missed three social gatherings this week.”
“Tell him I'm busy.”
The servant hesitated.
“He also asked whether you intend to continue pursuing the Slender Waist of Kai.”
Ramona slowly raised her eyes.
Wilson immediately looked away.
Ramona kept her voice calm.
“Tell Lord Vance that I have no intention of starving myself to impress anyone.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“And if he asks about my waist again, recommend military service.”
The servant hurried out.
Wilson waited until the door closed.
“You really have changed.”
Ramona pulled on her leather riding gloves.
“No. I finally remembered what matters.”
She headed for the courtyard but stopped at the doorway.
“Wilson.”
“Yes?”
“Begin emergency training for the household.”
“What kind?”
“Fire response, evacuation, first aid, defensive formations, and siege procedures.”
Wilson stared.
“Siege procedures?”
“Quietly.”
“And combat training?”
“Eventually. Don't frighten them yet.”
Ramona stepped outside.
Cold morning air struck her face.
For a brief moment, she saw another estate in another time—burning gates, shattered windows, and civilians crowded behind barricades that were never built to withstand what was coming.
The image vanished.
She tightened her gloves.
“Not this time.”
A stable boy hurried toward her.
“My lady, which horse?”
“The fastest.”
“He's difficult to handle.”
“Good.”
The boy hesitated.
“Where are you going?”
“Ironforge.”
Wilson followed her down the steps.
“You're going personally?”
“Yes.”
“Why not send a messenger?”
“Because I need to see the materials myself, and Hayes needs to understand exactly what I expect. I'm not asking him to build another pretty gate for a noble estate. I need him to build something that can keep the end of the world outside.”
Ramona mounted the horse.
Wilson looked at her uneasily.
“You speak as though you know exactly what's coming.”
Ramona met her gaze.
“I know enough.”
She didn't elaborate.
There was no point. Wilson didn't need a nightmare explained to her. She needed orders she could carry out.
Ramona looked back at the estate.
Her mother was inside.
Her father was alive.
For now, that was enough.
She turned toward the city.
“Move.”
The horse surged forward.
Kai was beginning its morning as though nothing had changed. Merchants opened their shops, carriages crowded the streets, and nobles complained about breakfast while Ramona rode past them without slowing.
Four years remained.
She would use them carefully: fill the warehouses, strengthen the estate, secure weapons and medicine, recruit capable soldiers, and build a network of people she could trust.
She had spent one lifetime reacting to disaster.
This time, she would meet it prepared.
Ramona tightened her grip on the reins as Ironforge appeared beyond the morning traffic.
The first wall of her new future was about to be built.