The first reports came as whispers, carried south by merchants brave enough to traverse the mountain passes despite the early winter storms. They spoke of doubled tariffs, confiscated goods, and Northern officials who suddenly seemed to wear gold rings and silk-lined cloaks.

  Julian sat in his private study in the Western estate, reading through the test dispatches. Four months into his marriage with Sophia, they had established a comfortable routine. They maintained separate chambers but took meals together and presented a united front to the household staff and visitors. To Julian's pleasant surprise, Sophia proved to be not just politically astute but genuinely kind when away from court pressures.

  "Another compint from the Northern merchants guild," Julian said, passing the letter to Natalie, who stood by his desk sorting correspondence as she had for years.

  Natalie, now twenty, had grown more refined with age. Her chestnut hair was longer now, fashionably pinned in a style that complemented her delicate features while still remaining practical. The years of pace training had perfected her feminine demeanor, though something in her eyes—a sharpness, a watchfulness—remained unchanged.

  "The third this month," Natalie noted, scanning the document. "And this one bears sixteen signatures."

  "Sixteen merchants willing to risk Augustus's displeasure," Julian mused. "The situation must be dire indeed."

  A knock at the door interrupted them. Lady Sophia entered, her practical riding clothes repcing the formal gowns she wore at court functions.

  "The messenger from Lady Emmeline has arrived," she announced. "He refuses to surrender his package to anyone but you, husband."

  Julian nodded. "Send him in."

  The messenger, dusty from hard riding, bowed deeply before presenting Julian with a small wooden box sealed with wax.

  "Your Highness, Lady Emmeline instructed me to inform you that these arrived via her trade contacts from Northport, Oakenford, and Rivermark."

  Julian thanked and dismissed the man, then broke the seal. Inside y three small leather pouches and a coded note in Lady Emmeline's elegant hand. After deciphering it, Julian emptied the pouches onto his desk. Soil samples spilled out—one dark and oily, another glittering with metallic flecks, the third bearing an unnatural bluish tint.

  "What is it?" Sophia asked, moving closer.

  "Evidence," Julian replied grimly. "Lady Emmeline's merchant contacts collected these from farmnds near three Northern mining operations Augustus established st year. The crops are failing, livestock sickening."

  Natalie picked up one of the soil samples, rubbing it between her fingers. "This doesn't feel right. There's something... wrong about it."

  "My thoughts exactly. Augustus promised the Emperor these new mines would bring prosperity to the North without harming the nd." Julian's voice hardened. "It appears my brother has been less than truthful."

  "We should consult an alchemist," Sophia suggested. "My father's estate employs a skilled one who specializes in agricultural matters."

  Julian nodded, gathering the samples carefully. "A wise suggestion, my dy. But we must be discreet. If Augustus learns we're investigating..."

  "He won't," Sophia assured him. "I'll send for Master Thorne under the pretense of consulting about our own gardens. No one will question it."

  As Sophia left to make arrangements, Julian turned to Natalie. "Draft letters to our contacts in the other Northern towns—not merchants this time. I want to hear from craftsmen, farmers, and common folk."

  "Of course," Natalie agreed, already reaching for fresh parchment. "Julian..." she hesitated, using his given name as she only did when they were truly alone. "If these allegations prove true, challenging Augustus will be dangerous."

  Julian's expression was resolute. "More dangerous still to allow him to poison the nd and exploit the people unchecked. The North deserves better."

  Natalie nodded, a strange mixture of pride and fear twisting in her chest. The young boy she had once protected was now a man standing firm against corruption—even when it wore a crown prince's face.