The Light That Shines
I'd shown her a world of light. Not a speck of filth in sight. The sanitation laws had quickly taken root in the city. More than anything, plenty of people didn't want to ruin the already clean roads. According to Dorgon's report, many residents even said it was better to go far outside and dump their trash there.
As we walked the roads, I bought some fruit. It was fresh, but still dripping with moisture. I wiped it on my sleeve and handed it to Daniela.
"Want to try? It's a fruit that only ripens in the North's winter—sweeter than southern apples."
Crunch. With that sound, Daniela winced. I held back the urge to ask if it was good.
We strolled amid the lively streets for a while.
"How is it?"
"So sweet, Your Grace."
She nodded, her lips stained with juice. I pulled her close for a moment and wiped her mouth with my sleeve. She flinched but stayed still, following my hand. All clean now.
Just off the central street were spots brimming with atmosphere. Cafés, I suppose you'd call them. They sold food and tea, but most customers came for the tea. Farming halted in winter. In the old days, it was so cold that even after spring came, crops often failed year after year. But now the forges warmed the earth, securing some cycle of growth.
Winter was still grueling, though. Farmers rested or went mining magic stones, which fetched good money. But things had changed. Wealth was finally accumulating in the North.
"W-Welcome... Your Grace?"
"It's been a while, Madam. Doing well?"
"Welcome, Your Grace. What brings you all the way here?"
"Craving some warm tea. And maybe some music."
The café owner rushed out to greet us at the door, panting. Sometimes even the Northern Grand Duke needed a break from his title—or to eavesdrop on the people's thoughts. This place was perfect: not too far from the central street, great tea, steady crowds. And best of all, the madam's daughter had an incredible voice.
"P-Please, come in. I'll prepare your usual tea right away."
"No rush. You'll startle everyone."
Daniela and I sat where the madam guided us. Mornings featured the daughter's vocal practice turned performance. Prime seats: nothing between us and the stage.
"I-I've never been to a place like this."
"It's nothing strange."
As we settled, the stage curtain parted. Not grand, but decently sized. Normally, we'd face each other, but the madam's thoughtfulness let us sit side by side. The chairs faced the stage front.
Applause rang out as the singer ascended in her dress, scanning the room. Probably looking for us—the Grand Duke's here, do your best!
"I've never been this nervous standing here. But for all of you who always fill these seats, I'll give my all."
She bowed deeply. The show began. No lavish orchestra—just one or two instruments—but her voice was captivating. Perfect with tea. Songs flowed; by the time our cups emptied, one ended. Applause followed each.
I clapped too, but today I glanced sideways. At the lady beside me. She kept her hands folded, no clap. Bad? I checked her face. Or the opposite? No telling.
"Hm, the singing was... nice, right?"
"Pardon? Ah, yes, Your Grace."
"You're making me self-conscious. Relax—you're a guest."
After a few songs, the madam brought special fresh-baked cookies. She knew my sweet tooth; they were always sugary bliss. As I crunched away, I watched Daniela's expression closely.
"Something bothering you?"
"N-No. The cookies are delicious."
"Right? Madam's a wizard in the kitchen."
We could've wandered till evening. Sadly, no such luck. Just as we finished and stepped out, a lightly dressed guard came sprinting up. Dorgon had come to the Winter Chamber with a report.
Normally, I'd say wait—but this was a chance to show her the North's night.
"Guess we head back to the castle."
"Y-Yes."
Daniela's demeanor had been odd since the café. Short answers or hesitant dodges to every question. Maybe she needed a break. Or the North didn't suit her. Less developed than the South, after all. Should've let her visit the Academy young—but no, I'd inherited the dukedom right then.
"Night brings art performances. We'll catch one—nobles and commoners alike attend. It'll be fun."
"My thanks for the honor, Your Grace."
"Haha..."
Entering Winter Castle, I headed straight to the Winter Chamber. Daniela kept her head down. I even asked Alfredo discreetly if he could probe what was wrong.
"Better for Your Grace to ask directly than me digging behind her back."
"Tricky."
"A woman's heart is ever a mystery."
"...You're teasing me."
"Dorgon's waiting. Off you go."
In the Winter Chamber, Dorgon knelt on one knee, a massive stack of documents tucked under his arm. The guard handed them over. I flipped through slowly, page by page. Things clarified.
"Petitions confirm four factions. One's plotting outright rebellion."
"Rebellion? Who's leading it?"
"Kandal family and allies. Rumors of stockpiling rations, but confirmed false."
"The others are vying to expand influence. That's clear now."
Later pages reinforced it. No solid proof of army gathering yet, but the issue loomed around the capital's outskirts. Not just one or two families betraying.
"Bart family report too—let's check..."
"Ah, good. Dorgon."
Bart's status unchanged. A marquis house's glory endured. But factions ensnared them too—unaligned anywhere. Plus, the imperial family's sly schemes.
"The palace wants to split Bart's gold veins?"
"Announcement slow, groundwork covert. They've picked families to hand them to."
"Devious bastards."
"Bart can't resist. No faction, mercenaries cost too much long-term."
"No aid, squeeze 'em slow. Real cunning. Cunning imperial scum."
I passed the full stack to Alfredo. New board laid out. Imperial family curbing Bart while prepping rebellion. War-crazed young lords over a woman. North's move?
"Dorgon, head to the Empire with the Foreign Minister."
"Understood."
"Make our name worth a fortune."
Drowning nobles would grasp any straw. North acts accordingly. One signed paper, big payout. Vault fills nicely.
"How far can I push...?"
"Use the Grand Duke's name freely."
"As you command."
Dorgon withdrew as evening neared. I headed to the theater first. Wanted a livable land. Old North was terrifying—death given, death taken. Winter too: freezing deaths, desperate thefts.
Took near twenty years to fix. Lucky we could. Wintergard name helped. Arts hall fit that vision: a good life for all.
"You're here early."
"Ah! Y-Your Grace."
"No need for titles with guests. Whew, prime seats."
Costly, but worth it. Second floor, perfect view. Opera. Worth sheltering Empire's exiled musicians.
Mid-performance, I asked Daniela, "You seemed off today. Everything alright?"
She turned from the stage, eyes glistening with tears. Music swelled, applause dotted the hall. She murmured something. I leaned in.
Hands cupped at her mouth, she whispered,
"It shines..."