Chapter 29

Third Person’s POV

The air in Tungsten still smelled of wet soil and freshly turned earth. Lena walked along the embankment, boots sinking slightly into the damp ground.

“Are they done?” she asked as she approached Ollie, who was overseeing a small group securing the last of the newly reinforced supports.

“Yes, crudely,” Ollie replied, wiping sweat from his brow before turning to her. “But they should be enough to last us the season.”

Lena nodded once, eyes scanning the length of the levee. It wasn’t perfect—but perfection was a luxury they couldn’t afford.

“Also, about rebuilding the city, Your Highness…” Ollie began.

He hesitated.

The Queen noticed. He wasn’t a man accustomed to speaking so directly to royalty, especially not about matters that involved money and limitations. His fingers curled slightly at his sides as he searched for the right words.

“We lack the labor force and resources at the moment,” he continued carefully. “But there is a flourishing forest and a quality mine within our land. With your permission, we can hire men to begin working in them. It would speed up the reconstruction. However…”

He paused again, jaw tightening.

“We do not have enough money to pay the fees and wages, Your Highness.”

The words hung in the air heavier than the lingering humidity.

Around them, the people of Tungsten moved slowly—repairing broken small buildings, clearing debris, patching what little they could. Exhaustion clung to every motion. Hope had returned, yes—but hope alone would not rebuild homes.

Lena stood still, silent for a moment.

She had already poured royal funds into emergency aid, food supply, temporary shelter, and the reinforcement of the levees. The treasury was not limitless, and there were other cities to maintain. Other dukes and lords watching. Waiting.

Yet in front of her stood a city that had barely survived two disasters in a single season.

At last, Lena drew a slow breath.

“Very well,” she said, her voice steady, measured. “Send a report on the estimated total cost of utilizing the forest and the mine first. I’ll decide after reviewing it.”

Ollie’s head snapped up. He had expected hesitation or refusal, but he hadn’t expected… consideration.

“Y-yes, Your Highness!”

Lena’s gaze shifted slightly, as if something else had surfaced in her thoughts. “Oh. And one more thing.”

Ollie straightened immediately.

“Surveillance stations will be built along the borders,” she continued. “I will map out the exact locations myself. Include the projected expenses for their construction in your report.”

The decisiveness in her tone left no space for doubt. She was already three steps ahead—seeing threats before they formed, securing the city before it could be tested.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Ollie replied, a faint tremor slipping into his voice despite himself.

Lena gave a small nod and turned, her dress brushing against the dirt as she walked toward the command post. She did not look back.

Ollie remained where he stood for a second longer.

Then, slowly, a smile crept onto his face.

Not because the burden had grown lighter—it hadn’t. If anything, it had doubled. Reports, calculations, border maps, funding they didn’t yet possess.

But for the first time since Tungsten began its painful rebirth, the uncertainty didn’t feel suffocating.

This was what it felt like to be led by someone who saw the storm coming and chose to stand at its front.

This was what it felt like to be protected by a true ruler.

As Lena walked forward, a quiet sigh slipped past her lips.

“One thing after another…”

Her gaze swept over the city, the patched roofs, the men hauling woods, the women clearing rubble from doorways that used to be homes. Every corner held another demand. Another problem waiting for her name to be attached to its solution.

Tungsten was not merely damaged. It was a bleeding responsibility.

But tomorrow. Her father and the rest of her men would finally arrive.

They were meant to be here last week. The delay had been her doing—she had asked him to make a detour to Ravaryn. To look into the Valeens personally.

Ever since her conversation with Commander Alric, the pieces had refused to sit quietly in her mind. Smuggling routes. Unaccounted funds. Unofficial troop movements near the northern line.

She needed confirmation.

And her father’s eyes had always seen what others tried to bury.

Once they arrived… once Miu recovered…

She could finally delegate. She could divide the burden. The rehabilitation would move faster with proper command structure restored. And perhaps—just perhaps—she could step away for a breath and tend to the broader concerns of the Kingdom.

Her thoughts sharpened again as the northern wind brushed against her face.

“I can have Jayden establish a temporary patrol station by the abandoned northern border,” she murmured under her breath. “Until I appoint permanent men to hold it.”

Ravaryn lay just beyond that line.

Too close.

The Ducaines had pillaged Tungsten once before. They would not hesitate to test the city again if they sensed weakness—even a flicker of it.

And Ravaryn… though still technically under Elysia’s banner… had never truly accepted her authority. They tolerated her crown. They did not respect it.

Not yet.

There was no chance they would welcome the strengthening of her hold over the neighboring lands. Development meant control. Control meant limitation.

And they despised limitation.

Lena’s hand curled slowly into a fist at her side.

“And that smug bastard…” she muttered, her voice low and edged with steel. “Don’t you dare think I’ll let you continue as you please. Not now that I’ve seen your filth.”

Marcus Valeen.

The name alone tightened her jaw.

She will not tolerate his arrogance. His subtle defiance. His carefully polished charm.

But now that she knew.

Now that she understood the depth of his dealings—

No.

There would be no more indulgence.

Her expression hardened, resolve settling into her bones like forged iron. The wind tugged at her hair as she continued forward, each step deliberate, unyielding.

Tungsten would rise.

And anyone who tried to undermine it would learn exactly why she wore the crown.

–

But then, at the far end of the battered street, half-concealed beneath the shadow of a crumbling warehouse, a sleek black car sat motionless.

Its engine had long gone cold and its occupants had not moved.

Through the tinted window, a pair of sharp eyes tracked Lena’s every step.

“Are you sure this was Miu’s last sighting?” Marcus asked, his voice low but edged with impatience.

Adrian, seated in the driver’s seat, kept his gaze forward while adjusting the rearview mirror just slightly. “Yes. This was where she was last seen. But she hasn’t returned in days. From what we’ve gathered, she’s staying inside the palace.”

Marcus’ jaw tightened.

“And that damn woman,” he muttered. “I was certain she noticed us when she suddenly came this way.”

Adrian glanced at him through the mirror. “She does have… sharp instincts.”

Marcus’ fingers drummed once against the door before his hand slammed flat against it, the dull thud echoing inside the car. His tongue clicked in irritation.

“She never stepped foot in this city before. Not once during her reign. Not even her father bothered,” he hissed. “So what changed? What made her come here every day?”

Adrian shifted slightly. “Reports say she’s personally overseeing the rehabilitation. Inspecting progress. Meeting workers. Making decisions on-site.”

Marcus leaned back into his seat, exhaling through his nose.

“Tsk.” His hand rose to his temple, massaging it slowly. “And it seems she won’t be leaving anytime soon.”

Through the windshield, Lena stopped briefly to speak with a royal guard, her posture steady, composed, entirely in control of the chaos around her.

Marcus watched her in silence, his expression darkening.

“There goes our business,” he muttered.

The rebuilding of Tungsten meant tightened borders. Increased patrols. Audits. Eyes where there had once been blind spots.

And Lena—unlike her predecessors—wasn’t ruling from a distant throne.

She was here. Present. Watching.

He almost chuckled at himself.

He couldn’t believe he went out here personally just to look for Miu.

How dare that wretch make him wait around like one of his lackeys just to get her back. She was nothing but trash — something he had picked up, used, and discarded whenever it pleased him.

His lips curved slowly, dangerously.

A sudden thought crossed his mind, if the Queen and most of her men were here… and Duke Christian had just taken his forces to Ravaryn…

Then the palace was practically hollow. Empty corridors. Fewer guards.

A cold laugh slipped from his throat.

If the palace was nearly empty… then retrieving her would not be difficult.

The realization settled in like a delicious secret.

“Adrian,” Marcus asked, his tone disturbingly calm, “do you know a way inside the palace?”

The question made Adrian stiffen.

“You mustn’t, Sir Marcus,” Adrian replied instead of answering. “Duke Edric ordered that we avoid any direct contact with the palace since the incident at the charity event.”

Adrian tilted his head slightly, enough to catch Marcus’ reflection in the rearview mirror.

Marcus exhaled slowly. Not relief. Restraint.

His hand tightened into a fist against his knee.

“What do you take me for?” he asked, voice low and strained. “Those were my father’s orders. Of course I haven’t forgotten.”

But the way his jaw flexed told another story.

His mind was no longer on orders.

It was on Miu.

She was supposed to be nothing now. A nameless peasant. A stray that survived only because he allowed it.

How dare she step into the palace again as if she belonged there? How dare she stand beside the queen?

His fingers curled tighter.

Miu had forgotten her place.

And Marcus Valeen had never been kind to those who forgot.

“Have our men stationed here in Tungsten. I want them to report the moment they see even a sliver of Miu’s hair in this city.” Marcus leaned back, a cruel satisfaction in his posture.

“Also, find out her connections within the palace. I want to know why she’s being helped by the Queen herself.”

As he finished speaking, a memory sparked a dark smile across his face.

He remembered the whispers, the rumors that had circulated among young nobles back during King Arthur’s reign. They speculated about the Crown Prince secretly seeing one of the Duke’s daughters. No one knew who — the Forgers’ fall soon overshadowed all gossip.

But Marcus’ obsession with the Forgers had long ago led him to a conclusion: it could only be Lena of the Silvervein household.

The thought made his jaw tighten.

The bitch. Does she think she can still insert herself back into the palace? Close to her ex-lover, now stripped of everything, a nobody… and now a woman?

His fingers curled, knuckles whitening.

“Miu… you wretch,” he hissed under his breath, venom dripping from every word. “I’ll make sure you learn your place.”