Lina did not need to leave the manor to gather information.
Eryndale Manor was full of information itself. Through the rustle of skirts in corridors, the clink of trays, the tired sighs of servants who believed no one important was listening. And Lina, as the duchess's handmaid, moved through every space without ever being questioned.
She belonged everywhere and nowhere all at once.
That morning, she began in the laundry rooms beneath the west wing. Steam fogged the air. The employees had seldom to do while they worked. Other than talk. Older maids spoke freely while younger ones listened, eyes wide.
"And then she told me she would rather the room told me to take over cleaning the dishes duty instead." One of the older maids said, retelling a story of a few years passed.
"What did you do?"
"What else" She huffed. "I told her to I don't take direction from her. The Head Maid decides on our duties for the day, and she told me to clean the rooms. And let me tell ya, she didn't like that one bit."
Lina sat across from them as they spoke, taking one of the clothes in her hand and starting to scrub.
"That was what it was like before then. All these young maids wanted to be the ones to clean the rooms."
"That makes sense." Lina piped up. "Especially for Lord Alden's I'm guessing."
"Ha damn right you are. As if they even had a chance. Nothing ruins a life than delusions about a noble taking fancy to ya."
"Lord Alden used to walk these halls himself," one woman said while wringing out sheets. "Not like the current duke. Alden remembered names."
"Pretty gutsy, I'd say. If Lord Alden wanted to, he would have had her whipped for her audacity."
"Nah not that much. Maybe in the East the nobles be like that. But not here. And especially not Lord Alden."
"Really?"
"He was always kind," another agreed. "Especially after returning from the East. Quieter, but kinder."
Lina folded linen carefully. Finally the conversation was going where she wanted. "The East?" she echoed, as if the word meant little to her.
The women exchanged looks.
"He went there for a while. Stayed there for years." one finally said. "Longer than anyone admits."
"Oh I never heard of Lord Alden, the heir of Eryndale, visiting the East. Then again, I was pretty young back then."
"Yeah they never made it an official thing really. To be honest, most of the people in the manor didn't even know. A lot of us only found out he went East after he came back."
"Did he ever speak of it?" Lina asked, still gentle, still harmless.
One maid lowered her voice. "Only once, that I heard. I was cleaning the halls near the Lord's office one time when I heard him talking to the previous Lord. I didn't really catch much of what he said, to be honest."
"I wonder what he did in the East for so long.'
"Oh that part I heard. He did talk to the previous Lord about someone he met. At first I thought he found himself a bride. But he was talking about a mage or something."
"Really?"
"Yeah. He talked to the duke about bringing her to the North. That's why I thought he found a girl he fancied. But then he started talking about how talented she was and how she could be of great help to the North."
Lina's hands stilled for half a breath.
"Did Duke Caelum know?" she asked.
The maid snorted softly. "Of course he did. They argued. Not loudly, but it was bad. Lord Alden, ever the revolutionary, said the North needed more people from the outside. That bringing them here would help them. Lord Caelum was still pretty young, but he didn't agree with Lord Alden. Saying the Easterners couldn't be trusted."
"And the previous Duke?" Lina asked.
"He said the North doesn't owe shelter to outsiders," the maid replied. "Especially mages shaped elsewhere."
That answer followed Lina long after she left the room.
Later, in the servants' dining hall, she listened again. Footmen talked when they thought themselves clever, guards when they thought themselves bored. Alden's name came up rarely, but when it did, it carried an almost reverent caution.
A slight flirty look and a dumb girl attitude, and the guards began speaking as if they were the center of the stories themselves.
"Yeah Lord Alden used to talk about mages a lot. Especially that one girl he met back in East, do ya remember" one guard said, poking the other. "He never really brought the apprentice here," a guard said between bites. "Passed before he could I guess."
"But he wasn't really planning to, if ya think about it." The other said.
"What do you mean?" Lina asked.
"Well he never really pushed for it. Besides, he was always busy with some other work. Never really found out what it was. But whatever it was, took a lot of his time and attention."
Lina filed that away.
As she walked away, Lina inclined her head, loyal and steady.
Information gathered.
Threads found.
And the past, quietly, beginning to stir.
*************************
Tomas went to the training grounds with a purpose.
Aveline's instructions were clear, even if spoken lightly: Find out what the North truly has. Mines, minerals, quartz—what was spoken of openly, and what was kept behind clenched teeth.
The training grounds were the best place for that.
Knights talked when their muscles burned and their lungs ached. Tomas made sure he was right there with them—sweat-soaked, breathless, indistinguishable from any other man sharpening himself for war.
Zeke was his target. Born and raised in the North, he would know as much as anyone.
The red-haired knight was already loosening his shoulders when Tomas joined him for paired drills. Their wooden swords cracked together in a fast exchange, neither holding back.
"You're pushing harder today," Zeke said between strikes. "Trying to impress someone?"
Tomas snorted. "Trying not to get buried under snow before winter. Don't wanna freeze out here."
That earned a laugh.
They circled, blades tapping. Tomas let the rhythm settle before speaking again. "At this pace, our swords are going to get chipped before we even get a chance to use them much."
"Well good thing we have many swords to go around"
"Yeah that's for sure. You ever notice how much metal this place burns through? Weapons, armor, repairs."
Zeke parried. "You should see the forges near the western slope. Constant work."
"So the mines must be busy," Tomas said, casual. "I've never seen them myself."
Zeke's sword paused just long enough to notice. "Ah. That's because most knights don't go near them unless assigned."
"Oh?" Tomas pressed, stepping in with a feint. "Dangerous?"
"Not the tunnels," Zeke said, blocking. "What's inside them."
They broke apart, both grinning faintly.
After the round ended, they dropped onto a nearby bench, muscles trembling pleasantly from exertion. Zeke pulled off his gloves.
"The North's rich in ore," he continued. "Iron, silver, even traces of mythril in the deeper veins. But quartz—that's what everyone wants."
Tomas leaned back, careful to look merely curious. "Runic quartz?"
"Plenty of it," Zeke said. "Clear quartz, frost-threaded quartz, resonance-grade pieces that glow faintly in the dark. Mines like Frostbreak Ridge and Hollowspire pull it out by the cartload."
"How many mines are we talking about?" Tomas asked.
Zeke counted idly on his fingers. "Seven main operations. A few smaller ones that open seasonally."
That answered more than Tomas expected.
The horn sounded for the next drill. Zeke stood and clapped Tomas on the shoulder. "Why so interested in the mines?"
"Not really interested." Tomas deflected. "But it's a wonder. You'd think the North would have a lot more money given how rich it is in quartz."
"Well we might not be the wealthiest, but we do make a good amount from the export. But the thing with quartz is, they're not worth as much if they don't have runes inscribed on them."
"Well that's true."
They returned to the yard, swords in hand. Steel rang again, sharp and clean.
But Tomas's thoughts were already elsewhere. He was in awe of his lady's ideas. She pinpointed the problem on the head. And amidst that awe, there was another feeling. Excitement over what his lady would end up doing with this business.
By the time the training ended, he had gathered exactly what Aveline had asked for.
The North wasn't poor.
It was simply unprepared.
And Tomas knew his lady would see that not as a problem—but as an opportunity.
********************
Aaron did not go looking for answers in places meant for strength.
He went where knowledge lingered.
The North's mage's headquarters were colder than the training grounds, stone halls lined with faintly glowing sigils meant to regulate temperature—functional, not elegant. Aaron fit in easily there, dressed plainly, staff strapped across his back like any itinerant caster seeking work.
Aveline had given him his task with a simple look: Find out who can shape runes—and who cannot.
He started small.
Libraries first. Then workrooms. Then the quiet corners where mages waited for commissions that never came.
Aaron asked questions the way scholars did—roundabout, harmless, cloaked in shared curiosity.
"Does the North still follow the old inscription schools?"
"Do you train runes alongside combat magic here?"
"Is rune-crafting handled by the guild or the ducal household?"
Most answered without thinking.
By midday, patterns emerged.
There were more mages in the North than outsiders believed—roughly three hundred bound to the territory in one way or another. Court mages, military casters, independent practitioners licensed by the guild.
But rune-smiths?
That number was pitiful.
Fewer than thirty had formal training in rune inscription. Fewer still could stabilize high-output quartz without fracturing it. And among them, only a handful could work without pre-inscribed templates imported from the South.
Aaron sat next to one of the more older mages and started a conversation on the pretense of refreshing old theory. The mage—a tired man with ink-stained fingers—complained openly.
"Runes take time. Time we don't have. The North needs shields and fire, not pretty etchings that take weeks."
Someone scoffed from the side. "And even if we wanted to, we don't have enough people who can do it."
That confirmed it.
Later, Aaron joined a small circle of junior mages practicing control exercises. He watched, observed, and then gently corrected a mana flow mistake—just once.
That was enough.
They gathered around him after. Asking more about how to accurately control their mana. Aaron skillfully turned the conversation towards rune inscription, saying that it can help learn how to stabalize mana.
"You've worked with runes before?" one asked.
"A little," Aaron replied mildly.
"Then you know how rare proper instruction is here," another said. "Most of us never get past theory."
"How many actually practice?" Aaron asked.
A pause.
"Maybe ten," came the answer. "The rest can trace symbols, but they crack quartz more often than not."
By dusk, Aaron had his answer.
The North had mages. Plenty of them.
But it lacked artisans.
No structured rune workshops. No scalable instruction. No system to turn raw mineral wealth into usable power.
When Aaron left the quarters, the cold felt sharper than before.
He already knew what Aveline would think when he told her.
This isn't a shortage.
It's a vacuum.
And vacuums, when filled correctly, changed everything.
************
They gathered in the small sitting room Aveline had claimed as her own.
It was not an official space—too tucked away, too unimportant for anyone to care—but that was precisely why she liked it. A single hearth burned low, its warmth just enough to chase away the North's chill without drawing attention.
Aveline sat at the center table, hands folded, listening.
Lina stood near the window, posture proper as ever. Tomas leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, the faint scent of iron and sweat still clinging to him from training. Aaron had taken the seat closest to the fire, eyes sharp despite his relaxed posture.
Aveline let the silence linger.
"Alright," she said at last. "Let's hear it. Start wherever you want."
Lina spoke first, voice quiet but steady.
"Within the manor… Alden's name still carries weight," she said. "The older servants speak of him carefully, like he might still be listening."
Aveline's fingers tightened slightly.
"He returned from the East different," Lina continued. "More thoughtful, they say. Some believe he planned to change things here."
"Did he speak to the Duke?" Aveline asked.
Lina nodded. "Once. After his return. Only once that the maids heard him. Alden mentioned meeting someone in the East—never gave a name, not that anyone knew. Only said the person is a talented mage. He wanted to bring that person to the North. Saying they could help.'"
Aaron's brows rose slightly.
"But after that?" Aveline pressed.
"No more mention," Lina said. "When Alden died, the subject died with him."
Aveline exhaled slowly.
Tomas straightened next.
"The mines," he said. "There are more than I expected. Iron and stone, of course—but quartz too. Plenty of it."
"What kind?" Aveline asked immediately.
"Mostly raw elemental quartz," Tomas replied. "Solen Quartz shows up in small veins. Frost-aligned crystals are common. Lightning-aligned quartz exists, but it's unstable—most of it gets shipped out before anyone here touches it."
"Who controls the mines?" Aaron asked.
"Knight orders," Tomas said. "Local lords answer to Eryndale. But here's the thing—no one refines the quartz. Not a lot of it at least. They extract and export. That's it."
Aveline's eyes sharpened.
"And they don't question it? Don't think about a way to improve that?"
Tomas shook his head. "They've don't have the luxury or time for that."
Aaron spoke last.
"The North has mages," he said simply. "Hundreds, if you count everyone with formal registration."
"And rune-crafters?" Aveline asked.
Aaron smiled thinly. "Less than thirty trained. Maybe ten who can actually work quartz without breaking it."
Silence fell.
Aaron continued, "There's no system. No workshops. No teaching beyond theory. They rely on imported runes from the South. The North focussed too much on battle mages."
Aveline leaned back, gaze drifting to the fire.
"So," she said softly, "we have mines full of power, mages who can't use it properly, and a territory bleeding resources because no one taught them how to keep it."
No one contradicted her.
She looked up, eyes bright—not with excitement, but clarity.
"Alden saw this," she said. "That's why he went East. That's why he wanted to bring me here. And possibly other mages too."
"I think," she said finally, "that the North was never meant to stay dependent."
She looked at each of them in turn.
"What you've all brought me isn't just information," Aveline said. "It's leverage. The kind that doesn't need force."
Tomas grinned faintly. "Sounds like you already have a plan."
Aveline's smile was small, measured.
"I have the outline," she said. "The rest… we'll carve ourselves."
The fire crackled softly, unaware that something in the North had just begun to shift.