Dorian Lockewood stepped into Eastmere’s grand hall, full of optimism.
At nineteen, he had finally earned his first major appointment.
A struggling province, yes.
But he believed in numbers, laws, and order.
And numbers never lied.
<i>If the economy was failing, balance the budget.</i>
<i>If crime was high, restructure enforcement.</i>
<i>If people were unhappy, find the root cause and address it.</i>
These were solvable problems.
And then he met Lord Halvern.
And realized that numbers could not fix people.
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But....
Lord Halvern was not just lazy.
He was actively destructive.
A spoiled, self-indulgent noble who saw his province as a personal playground.
<i>He didn’t just ignore governance—he deliberately made it harder for his staff to do their jobs.</i>
<i>He spent treasury funds on lavish parties while roads fell into disrepair.</i>
<i>He gave contradictory orders just to watch his advisors panic.</i>
Dorian stared in disbelief when he found out that Halvern auctioned off administrative positions to his drinking companions.
When he confronted Halvern, the noble just laughed.
"Let’s see what happens," he said, raising a glass. "It’ll be fun!"
Dorian, stunned, realized that Halvern didn’t just mismanage Eastmere—he enjoyed the chaos.
With no direction from Halvern, Dorian took control.
For six months, he worked tirelessly behind the scenes.
<i>He hired competent staff in secret to replace Halvern’s drunken cronies</i>, <i>negotiated trade agreements to secure long-term stability</i>, <i>streamlined tax collection so money actually stayed in the treasury.</i>
For a while, it worked.
Merchants returned. Trade increased.
And Halvern?
He spent the new wealth on imported wine.
And took all the credit.
Dorian didn’t care.
As long as the province functioned, that was enough, or so Dorian thought.
But then came the festival.
And Halvern burned it all down.