Dorian Lockewood stepped into Eastmere’s grand hall, full of optimism.

  At nineteen, he had finally earned his first major appointment.

  A struggling province, yes.

  But he believed in numbers, laws, and order.

  And numbers never lied.

  These were solvable problems.

  And then he met Lord Halvern.

  And realized that numbers could not fix people.

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  But....

  Lord Halvern was not just lazy.

  He was actively destructive.

  A spoiled, self-indulgent noble who saw his province as a personal playground.

  Dorian stared in disbelief when he found out that Halvern auctioned off administrative positions to his drinking companions.

  When he confronted Halvern, the noble just laughed.

  "Let’s see what happens," he said, raising a glass. "It’ll be fun!"

  Dorian, stunned, realized that Halvern didn’t just mismanage Eastmere—he enjoyed the chaos.

  With no direction from Halvern, Dorian took control.

  For six months, he worked tirelessly behind the scenes.

  , ,

  For a while, it worked.

  Merchants returned. Trade increased.

  And Halvern?

  He spent the new wealth on imported wine.

  And took all the credit.

  Dorian didn’t care.

  As long as the province functioned, that was enough, or so Dorian thought.

  But then came the festival.

  And Halvern burned it all down.