Location: Company Courtyard → Alec's Office → Serina's Quarters
Time: Day 210 After Alec's Arrival
The quill scratched slower than usual this morning.
Serina sat at her writing desk in the upper Company wing, half-dressed in her administrative garb — slate-grey tunic, black-trim sash, her hair still damp from the basin. A dozen unopened missives lay to one side. She'd been up since dawn.
And she still hadn't moved past the third.
Not because they were hard to read.
But because her thoughts kept drifting.
Her hand paused above a half-finished sentence. A trade request from the Halstrad grain guild, wanting to renegotiate their river barge fees. Normally, she would have responded immediately, precise and polite. Alec would've expected that from her. She was his second-in-command for internal oversight. His apprentice in governance. His shadow in policy.
And yet her mind was elsewhere.
Or, more precisely—on someone else.
There had been whispers over supper last night.
One of the kitchen girls had said Mira had been seen in the lower labs twice that week, working closely with Alec on something "technical." Another scribe mentioned they'd overheard Mira laughing during a late logistics update — not disrespectfully, just... comfortably.
And that word lingered longer than it should have in Serina's head.
Comfortable.
It wasn't that she doubted Mira's ability. Mira was competent, intelligent, and skilled in a way few village-born healers ever were.
But she wasn't just part of the Company now. She was near Alec. Often. Quietly.
And Serina was starting to notice.
She dipped her quill again, stared down at the parchment, and forced herself to finish the response.
"A reevaluation of trade levies shall be considered once seasonal output reports are verified. No adjustments will be made without precise yield tallies. — Lady Serina Vaelora of Midgard."
She signed it.
Rolled it.
Sealed it.
And set it aside.
Then exhaled slowly.
The room was quiet — too quiet. Even her thoughts seemed to echo louder than usual.
She stood, crossed to the window, and looked out over the compound grounds.
From here, she could see the courtyard where the engineers were gathering crates, the messengers tying down saddlebags, the guards doing their morning drills.
And beyond that, across the walkway bridge — the Medical Annex.
It wasn't obvious.
But she'd noticed.
Alec had been there every day this week.
Not long. Not publicly.
But often.
And Mira had been at his side for more hours than Serina could rationalize as "just field integration."
She pressed her lips together, thoughtful.
She wasn't angry.
Not yet.
But she was curious.
And that was often the first step toward something deeper.
She turned from the window, tightened her sash, and gathered the rest of her reports.
If Alec was going to invest his time in the medical division, then so would she.
Not to interfere.
Just to… observe.
And perhaps, remind everyone — Mira included — who this world was being built with.
The sun filtered through the high windows of the Company compound like a judgment. Pale, golden, silent.
Serina sat in the outer gallery, ledger in her lap, quill forgotten. She wasn't watching the figures inked across parchment. She was watching the door at the far end of the corridor — the one that led to the Medical Annex.
It opened.
And out stepped Mira.
Her sleeves were rolled. Her cheeks flushed from effort, not paint. Her hair was loose today. Practical. Alive. She looked… capable.
She looked like someone Alec could spend time with.
And, Serina noted, someone he had been spending time with.
Mira didn't notice her.
Or pretended not to.
She passed down the hall with a calmness Serina couldn't tell was natural or practiced.
Serina's fingers curled against the edge of the ledger.
🗒 Later – Alec's Office
She didn't confront him.
She asked for his time like she always did: professional, direct.
He was reviewing supply reports.
She stood near the hearth, arms folded beneath her mantle.
"You've been in the Medical Annex more often," she said without inflection.
Alec didn't look up. "Standard integration checks. Mira's team is producing field-ready formulas. Cross-discipline potential."
"You trust her?"
"I trust results," Alec said. "She delivers them."
"Is that all she delivers?"
He paused.
Looked at her.
Not angry. Not confused.
Just… parsing.
"You're asking if she holds emotional weight for me."
Serina didn't flinch.
"You spend time with her."
"I spend time with everyone who creates value. You're the one I share strategy with."
Serina tilted her head, eyes sharp now.
"That sounds like something a man says when he knows he's being watched."
Alec folded the page he was holding. "I don't perform. I function."
"Then why did you pause just now?"
He looked at her — really looked, as he did when weighing terrain.
"Because I realized the question mattered to you."
She hated how quickly her stomach flipped.
Serina turned away from the desk, walked slowly toward the map wall.
"She's older," she said softly.
"She's effective."
"That wasn't what I said."
"No," Alec said. "But it's what I answered."
Silence bloomed again.
Then she asked — carefully — "Do you see me as a child?"
"No."
"Then how do you see me?"
"I see you as someone becoming."
He rose, walked around the desk, stopped a pace away.
"I've taught you languages, structures, strategy. Not because you're my pupil — but because you're positioned to shape what I build."
"And Mira?"
"She represents what preceded me. The world before my influence. She has value — but she's not aligned with my future."
Serina's heart slowed.
But she didn't let herself sigh with relief.
Not yet.
🌘 That Evening – Serina's Chambers
She sat at her vanity, brushing out her hair with mechanical precision. Her journal lay open beside her, half-written:
I saw them today. Nothing dramatic. No gestures. But she smiled.I wonder what I look like to her. A girl? A shadow? A name she's heard Alec say too often?He didn't deny her value. But he didn't place her beside him.I asked if he saw me as a child. He said no. But I think part of him still sees me as an equation.That's fine. Equations can become constants.And constants define entire systems.
She looked up at the mirror.
Not to admire.
But to measure.
"I'm not his yet," she said aloud. "But I'll be there when the rest fall behind."
She reached for the folded parchment Alec had given her last week — a French poem. She hadn't understood all the words yet.
But one phrase lingered.
Je t'approche lentement, mais sûrement.I approach you slowly… but surely.