Chapter 9: The Iron Audit
The fortress of Ironhold did not welcome visitors; it endured them. As our carriage rolled through the massive obsidian gates, the transition from the snowy wastes to the Duke's seat of power was jarring. If the Imperial Palace in the capital was a delicate porcelain vase, Ironhold was a broadsword hammered out of black granite.
I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the Northern soldiers the fabled Winter Legion snap to attention as Cassian's crest passed. My ankle was still wrapped in the linen from his cloak, a constant, warm weight that reminded me of the moment in the woods.
"You're thinking about the System notification," I murmured to myself, keeping my voice too low for Emily, who was fast asleep on the opposite bench, to hear.
The blue flicker in my vision hadn't faded. [REWARD: LEGAL INTUITION LEVEL 2]. In my old life, intuition was something you built over a decade of trial and error. Here, it felt like a sharp, secondary sense—a hum in the back of my brain that vibrated whenever I looked at a document.
"We are here," Cassian said.
The carriage door was opened by a butler who looked like he had been carved out of the same stone as the castle. As I stepped out, the biting wind of the North whipped my silver hair across my face. I stood tall, smoothing the creases of my traveling dress. I was covered in dust, my hem was frayed, and I was limping, but I refused to enter this house as a refugee.
"Take the witness to the secluded wing of the infirmary," Cassian commanded the guards. "No one enters without my seal. Not even the priests."
He turned to me, his violet eyes scanning my exhausted face. "And you. You will bathe, you will eat, and then you will sleep. The audit can wait until tomorrow."
"The audit waits for no one, Your Grace," I countered, though my voice lacked its usual bite. "Twenty-five days. That's all we have before the High Court convenes. If I'm not there with a mountain of evidence, the Prince won't even let me speak."
"You'll speak," Cassian said, stepping closer. He reached out, his gloved hand hovering near my arm as if he wanted to support me but was hesitant to break the professional distance we had rebuilt. "Because if they try to silence you, I'll bring the Winter Legion to the capital's gates. Now, go. Mrs. Halloway is waiting."
The "Rose Suite" in Ironhold was not like the one in the capital. It was decorated in deep blues and silvers, with a fireplace large enough to roast a stag. After a bath that turned the water grey with the dust of the mining tunnels, I sat at the mahogany desk in my silk robe.
I didn't sleep. Instead, I opened the first crate of documents Cassian's scouts had intercepted from the merchant caravans heading toward the Rose estate.
Follow the money, I thought. Isabella is a Saintess. She doesn't have a salary. So how does her family afford a private army of 'Inquisitors' and silk capes for every knight?
I activated [LEGAL INTUITION].
The world seemed to dim, and specific lines of text on the ledgers began to glow with a faint, golden hue. My eyes darted across the numbers.
"Donation to the Temple of Light... 50,000 gold pieces," I read. "Source: Anonymous. Date: Three days before the 'discovery' of the silver mine in the Southern Hills."
I frowned. I flipped to another page.
"Purchase of 500 acres of 'Cursed Land' in the Black Bog. Price: Pennies. Date: One month before the Saintess 'cleansed' the land with a miracle."
I felt a cold shiver go down my spine. It wasn't just that she knew the future; she was using her "Saintess" status to manipulate the market. She would buy worthless land, then perform a "vision-guided" miracle to make the land valuable. It was the fantasy version of Inside Trading.
"I object," I whispered to the empty room, a grin spreading across my face. "This isn't a miracle. It's a racketeering scheme."
A sharp knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.
"Lady Seraphina? It is time for the evening banquet," Mrs. Halloway's voice came through the wood. "The Northern Duchesses and the wives of the Clan Leaders have requested your presence. The Duke says it is optional, but..."
"But if I don't go, they'll think I'm hiding," I finished for her. I stood up, my joints popping. "Tell them I'll be down in ten minutes. And Mrs. Halloway? Bring me the dark velvet gown with the high collar. If I'm going to a den of wolves, I want to look like the one in charge of the pack."
The dining hall was a cavernous room filled with the smell of roasted meat and pine. Long tables were filled with Northern nobles men with scarred faces and women with sharp eyes and heavy fur stoles.
As I entered, the chatter died down instantly. Every head turned.
I walked to the head table where Cassian sat. He was dressed in a formal black tunic, looking every bit the King of the North. To his left was an empty chair.
"Lady Seraphina," a woman's voice rang out, cold and mocking. It was Lady Rowena, the wife of the Western Clan Leader. She was known for her sharp tongue and her loyalty to the Saintess's charity works. "We were surprised to hear you were staying here. We heard the capital had... grown tired of your company."
"Tired is one word for it," I said, taking my seat with a grace I didn't feel. "Another word would be 'intimidated.' It seems the Imperial Court finds a woman who knows the law more frightening than a woman who knows her prayers."
Rowena sneered. "A woman who knows the law? You were found with poison in your room, Seraphina. In the North, we don't use 'law' to hide our crimes. We use it to punish them."
The table erupted in murmurs of agreement. I felt the weight of their judgment a thousand years of Northern tradition looking down at me as a "spoiled villainess" from the South.
I picked up my wine glass, swirling the dark liquid. "Tell me, Lady Rowena. You are a patron of the Saintess's 'Orphanage Fund,' aren't you?"
Rowena straightened her back. "I am. It is a holy cause."
"Then you'll be interested to know that according to the port authority logs I reviewed an hour ago, the grain meant for those orphans was sold to the Eastern Kingdom for three times its value. The 'donation' your family made was used to buy a new carriage for Sir Marcus, the Saintess's brother."
The table went silent. Rowena's face turned white. "That... that is a lie! A slanderous accusation!"
"Is it?" I reached into the pocket of my gown and pulled out a small, folded piece of parchment a copy of the manifest I had found. I slid it across the table. "Under Northern Law, Section 4, 'Charitable Fraud' is punishable by the seizure of all assets of the mediating party. If I'm a criminal for being framed, Rowena, what does that make you for funding a Saintess's brother's luxury at the expense of starving children?"
Rowena looked at the paper, her hands shaking. She looked at Cassian, but the Duke was simply cutting his meat, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
"I am a lawyer, ladies and gentlemen," I said, standing up and looking around the room. "I do not deal in gossip. I deal in evidence. And for the next twenty-five days, I am the only thing standing between the House of Hel and a tax audit that would bankrupt every clan in this room. If you want to bully me, please do. But remember: a lawyer's bill is always higher for those she doesn't like."
I turned to Cassian. "Your Grace, the dinner was lovely, but I have three more crates of fraud to uncover. Please excuse me."
I walked out of the hall in total silence. I didn't look back, but I could feel Cassian's gaze on my back, burning with a mixture of pride and something far more dangerous.
Back in my room, the System chimed again.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: SOCIAL REPUTATION IN THE NORTH +50]
[HIDDEN TRUTH UNLOCKED: THE SAINTESS'S BUSINESS EMPIRE]
I sat down and grabbed my pen. "Now, Isabella," I whispered. "Let's see how your 'Divine Grace' handles a forensic audit."