Braydon was once again sat at his desk. He found that he spent too much time here for his liking. There was nothing but Colin’s reports on the progress of the roads piling in the corner of the room and a map of Fiveria on the wall. There was nominally a bookcase but books were expensive and he wasn’t much fond of reading anyway.

This time, however, he was looking over a report sent back by Gerald’s squire. His knight had been accompanying Master Aran over the past week as he went prospecting for possible mines. From the previous letter they had sent back, there had been nothing to the north of his territory, which had been a disappointment. Braydon hoped there would be something more positive from the south. When he had received the report, Braydon had called for Colin. The chamberlain would want to be the first to know if they had a money maker such as a mine in the fief. It would make both of their jobs easier in the long run.

“We’ve really struck gold with this!” Braydon had jumped up from his chair before handing the elder the report. He needed something like this or he’d be stuck in the same position when the Grand Duke attacked again.

“Indeed, an iron vein of this size is quite unheard of. It might be the largest in the Brimstones.” Colin was not quite as active in his celebration, an effect of his age. But the relief he felt was no less than Braydon.

“The problem we face now is setting up will take a large amount of money, even with the harvest we don’t have enough.” Colin’s reminder brought Braydon down to earth. Even if he was no longer broke, that didn’t mean that he had the funds to set up an iron mine, let alone a large one.

“I don’t want the other nobles sticking their hands in this, the problems would never end.” Colin nodded at this, he did not want to deal with that hassle either.

“Well, you could petition the crown for funds. The king might not be powerful but the taxes from the capital, Boshil, are still very large. Not to mention if the crown backs it, it will stop other nobles from overtly taking action. Nobody wants to rock the boat that much.” Colin’s idea was a good one.

The king would probably jump at the opportunity to get another noble on his side. At the moment there were three Dukes who held the loyalty of almost all nobles, with the exception of Earl Blake’s faction. The king’s support lay mostly in isolated baronies or Marquess Burgess who had been forced to his side by Earl Blake. Other than that, the king only truly held power in the capital, even Wathamalin was only following orders in name. The guilds ruled there, and they held enough sway in the capital to keep it that way.

“I’ll run the idea by Nela, she should have a clearer idea of what’s happening in the capital. She did live there after all.”

“One more thing, whilst we are here, Sire.” This would be in place of a report, which he would gladly skip reading.

“Of course, what is the progress?”

“The workforce that Baron Monrow sent have made better time than we thought. The road between Cliforge and Midbury is done. At this rate, they will finish the roads between Midbury and north and south villages in two weeks. They will be with us for another week after, what would you suggest they do?” A whole week? This gave Braydon an idea.

“We’ve just found a large ore vein haven’t we? We’ll need a road going there.” This was quickly agreed upon.

“And where should this road head, Sire? The castle is a bit too far away to reach in just a week.”

“Connect it to the road between Midbury and southern village, Midbury is the true centre of the fief anyway. Maybe we can attract some merchants with this. That’s the hope, anyway.” ‘Maybe, with such news the Barons’ subjects will be more inclined to move to the southern village.’ Over the past week they had not had much of an uptake from their people. Partly because the two had calmed down and stopped burning things for now. Though he suspected that it was because there was no real incentive to come to Cliforge. Sure it was bad in Kirton and Grolosar, but how did they know it was better in his land?

That was how Braydon spent the rest of the day writing and rewriting a letter to the King, Aled II. It was rewritten so many times at the behest of Nela, so that his writing was presentable. Braydon spent 5 silver’s worth of paper and ink before he wrote a letter that met her standard.

“Why could you not have written that? I’ve seen your writing, it is much better than mine.” Braydon moaned once he had finished and the strict expression had changed back to her small smile.

“Do you not remember that whilst I may represent you when accompanying you to meetings as an ally. But this is a letter to the king and my surname is not Fiton. I presume that was not the intent behind your question?” Seeing her raised eyebrow, and the silent glare from Mireille who had sat through the entire ordeal as company, Braydon’s face paled.

“No that was not my intention. I did not mean to cause offence either.” He let out a breath of relief upon Mireille putting away her glare. And promptly caught the next one when he saw the smirk gracing Nela’s face. ‘Remember that time when you proposed to me? Or something like that, I can already see her saying it.’ Turning away and pretending he saw nothing only got a giggle.

"Well, now that that is done. Steven, go find our most competent rider. They don’t have to be the fastest, just the most certain it will arrive in the King’s hands. They have a letter to deliver.” Braydon passed the letter to Steven after signing it with his seal. He had collected it from his elder brother before he left Heimron, probably the most valuable thing his brother had let him take. Only because he had no excuse to keep it.

Gerald and Aran took their time in wandering back, now that they had made their find. And Braydon was happy to keep it that way. He much preferred Nela’s torment to the constant chattering and disappearing alcohol that the other two entailed. Though they were still back in two days, in part thanks to the new roads that their hired workforce was making. But Braydon had a sneaking suspicion that they had run out of booze, and were hurrying back for that. Now all that they were waiting on was a response from the capital, and any new settlers if they were lucky.

And like that Braydon hoped they were in for a quiet few days...