Chapter 46: Coming, Duchess
As the moon rose over the Iron-Claw Pass, the second pump began its work. The villagers gathered at the base of the ridge, their cheers echoing through the canyon as the first spray of water hit the thirsty soil.
Ace sat on a crate of spare parts, watching Evelina as she directed the distribution of grain.
His hands were blistered, his muscles screamed in protest, and his reputation in the Capital was likely in tatters as news of the ’Duke’s Labour’ spread.
He looked at his calloused palms, then back at the woman standing by the iron monster.
A terrifying realization settled into his bones, deeper than any military oath he had ever taken. He had spent his life being the mighty Duke in all but name, commanding respect through fear and lineage. But as he watched Evelina, he realized he didn’t want the titles.
He’d rather be her laborer, her shield, and her footman, than anyone else’s Hero.
[System Notification]
[Target Ace’s Favor: Error: Overflow]
Evelina rolled her eyes, "Why do you keep showing the errors everywhere these days? I think you need to work harder because you are the one who is getting lazy..."
[System: Host is blabbering.]
Evelina turned around at this moment, catching Ace staring at her, "Ace? Why are you sitting around? There are three more wagons to unload."
Ace stood up, a tired but triumphant smile on his face "Coming, Duchess."
...
Over the time, the North had finally begun to breathe.
With the second and third pumps operational, the air around the Alvarez Estate no longer felt like a death sentence lingering above.
The sound of mechanical pounding of the steam engines had become a lullaby for the exhausted household.
Evelina had collapsed into her bed for the first time in seventy-two hours. Her last conscious thought was that the stability metrics were finally green.
She didn’t hear the System’s distant chime, nor did she hear the muffled thunder of hooves approaching the estate under the cover of a moonless night.
She was deep in a dreamless sleep when the atmosphere of the manor shifted. A coldness of a different kind swept through the halls.
At the main gates of the Alvarez Estate, a group of riders stood draped in robes the color of dried blood.
They carried banners bearing the Sun, the sigil of the Imperial Inquisition of Divine Order. At their head sat a man who looked like he had been fashioned from an ancient era.
High Inquisitor Malphas did not smile. His eyes were hollow pits of conviction, focused entirely on the iron derrick visible in the distance, silhouetted against the stars.
"In the name of the Eternal Light," Malphas’s voice rasped, thin and sharp as a razor, "Open these gates. We carry a warrant of sanctity."
The guards at the gate hesitated, their pikes trembling. They were Northmen; they feared and respected the Duke the most, but they had been raised to fear the Inquisition throughout their childhoods.
Before they could move, the heavy iron doors creaked open.
Ace stepped into the torchlight.
He wasn’t wearing his ducal finery. He was in his shirtsleeves, his forearms still smeared with the grease and grit of the Iron-Claw Pass, his hair a mess.
But as he stood there, his hand resting on the hilt of his black-steel broadsword, he looked more like a God of War than he ever had in a ballroom.
His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, but the fire in them was enough to make the Inquisitors’ horses rear back.
"You are four hundred miles past your jurisdiction, Malphas," Ace said, his voice resembling the calm before the storm, "There is no sanctity in the North that I did not put there myself. Turn around while you still can."
Malphas unfurled a scroll, the wax seal of the Imperial radical faction gleaming like a fresh wound, "The Duchess Evelina and the heretic Victor Thorne have conspired to create a demonic vacuum. You are using fire to steal the blood of the Earth; the holy waters that the Heavens have seen fit to withhold as penance for the Empire’s sins. To interfere with a drought is to interfere with divine will. To do so with a machine of iron and smoke is Heresy."
Divine will? Ace’s eyes narrowed. If there was a god in the world who willed for the people to suffer and die, then he wouldn’t mind wiping such audacity and becoming the godslayer.
"I don’t give a damn about your penance," Ace stepped forward, his aura expanding until it felt like an undeniable weight pressing against the Inquisitors, "My people were dying. My wife saved them. If your God wanted them to thirst, he should have sent a better messenger than a skeletal priest in a red robe. Or maybe, he should consider descending here himself."
"Blasphemy!" one of the younger priests screamed, reaching for a ceremonial mace.
Ace’s sword cleared its scabbard halfway with a terrifying shring.
The sound echoed through the silent courtyard.
"Touch that weapon, boy, and I’ll show you exactly how divine your blood looks on the dirt. You are at the gates of House Alvarez. I am the only law that exists here. If you want my wife, you’ll have to try me."
The tension was a bowstring pulled to the point of snapping. The Inquisition’s guards leveled their crossbows.
Ace’s second-in command, Marcus, positioned on the ramparts along with the rest of his guards who notched their arrows.
It looked like a single sneeze would have ignited a civil war right there on the doorstep.
"Ace, put that away. You’re embarrassing me."
The voice was soft, but it cut through the murderous tension like a blade through silk.
Ace stiffened. He didn’t turn around, but his shoulders lost some of their tension, "Evelina, go back inside. This isn’t a negotiation."
Evelina walked into the light. She was wrapped in a heavy, silk dressing gown, her hair flowing loose and messy down her back.
She looked small standing next to the armored Duke, but as she reached the gate, she pushed Ace’s sword hand back down toward the scabbard with a single firm finger.
