Technocracy 101:Rise Of The Steel Empire

Location: Oslo Keep – South Wing, Guard Tower → Elira's Private Quarters → Household Archives

Time: Day 381 After Alec's Arrival

 The fire was out.

The grain had been swept. Ash buried. The storehouse boarded and locked under the seal of the Countess's name.

On the surface, calm had returned.

Bread carts had been rolled out by noon the day after. City criers walked the Grain District with familiar phrases. "Stability. Security. Justice in motion."

But Alec knew better.

Fires weren't endings.They were preludes.

And next time, it wouldn't be grain they came for.

Morning – Southern Watchtower, Oslo Keep

Mist curled over the rooftops as Alec stood at the edge of the high turret, hands on the frost-cold stone ledge. Below, the inner curtain wall stretched like a stitched scar between districts.

Captain Meren stood beside him. No cloak, no shield — Alec hadn't given him time to fetch either.

"You rerouted the guard shifts?" Alec asked.

"Yes. Staggered entry and exit, no pattern repeats, double head counts—"

"The night patrol map," Alec interrupted. "Recite it."

Meren blinked. "Sir?"

"If you're captain and you can't recall your night coverage without a scroll in hand, I'll replace you. Now."

To his credit, Meren recited. He listed off the paths — East gate to outer cloisters, back wall to cellar loop, rotating triplets by quadrant.

He missed one.

"The east cloister entrance," Alec said flatly. "Near the old chapel. The one that opens into the inner garden."

Meren's mouth parted slightly, then closed.

"That's where the child sleeps," Alec said. "That quadrant gets three men. Every night. No exceptions."

Meren saluted stiffly. "Understood."

Alec turned, cloak brushing wet stone behind him.

"Come. We begin the purging now."

Late Morning – Elira's Private Quarters

The warmth of the room was soft with quiet sounds: braids being twisted, a child humming tunelessly, the gentle combing of fingers through dark hair.

Elira stood barefoot by the window. Annarella sat on a low stool at her feet, a blanket across her lap.

Alec stepped in unannounced.

Elira's eyes found his instantly.

"Another fire?" she asked, keeping her voice level.

"No," Alec said. "Not yet."

Annarella looked up at him with a grin. "You're early."

He knelt before her, hands resting on his knees. "Do you remember the necklace I gave you?"

She nodded. "The red one. With the little flower."

"Wear it," he said. "Always. Even when you sleep."

"Why?"

"Because it's special," he said. "If something feels wrong — if someone says something strange, or a door opens when it shouldn't — I want you to grab the necklace, and pull the flower off. Just once."

Annarella blinked. "Will it make noise?"

"No," Alec said gently. "But I'll know. And I'll come. Right away."

Behind him, Elira had gone still.

"You rigged it?" she asked.

"I built a line under the floorboards. If she pulls the flower, it'll snap a trigger hidden beneath the tile. Ten guards on rotation are listening for it."

Elira didn't respond.

She simply resumed braiding her daughter's hair, slower now.

"I'll wear it," Annarella said. "Promise."

Afternoon – Household Archives

The archivist had cleared a table the moment Alec walked in.

Laid out before him: lists. Names. Dozens of them. Household staff, servants, guards, cooks, stablehands. Every person who had regular access to Oslo Keep.

Each entry marked with a series of handwritten notes:Wage. Birth origin. Debt history. Noble sponsor. Assigned zones. Frequency of inner keep entry.

Alec stood motionless as he read. Occasionally, he would tap a name. Quiet. Deliberate.

By the end, fifteen names were circled.

Nine had worked under the old council.Three had unpaid debts ignored without follow-up.Two had handwriting that matched the forged grain log.One had been caught standing too long near Elira's carriage.

He slid the list to Meren.

"Not to be dismissed," Alec said.

Meren frowned. "Then what—?"

"They're to be rotated. Quietly. Low-trust posts only. West wall guard, ashworks, outer stables. No access to the tower. No proximity to Elira. Or the child."

"Won't they notice?"

"I want them to."

Meren didn't ask why. He just nodded.

Evening – Central Training Yard

The household guard looked formidable on paper. Thirty men — elite, handpicked, technically loyal.

But Alec knew the truth.

They were soft. Undisciplined. Overconfident.

He stood at the edge of the yard in a plain gray tunic, no insignia, no armor. The wind tugged at his sleeves.

Before him, the guards waited in two rows. Most of them didn't meet his gaze.

"None of you are ready," Alec said.

Someone scoffed quietly.

He ignored it.

"You walk like you've never hunted. You listen like you're waiting to be told what's already too late. You think a command is the beginning of thought. It's not. It's the end."

He nodded to Meren.

The drills began.

Reflex testing.Silent formation.Perimeter sweep blindfolded.

Then: Child protection drills.

A mannequin the size and weight of Annarella was moved into a crowd simulation. The guards had sixty seconds to spot her, extract her, and get her out.

Only two succeeded.

The others? Stumbled. Lost sight. Delayed. One dropped the child. Another exposed her back to an imaginary blade.

Alec didn't raise his voice.

He only said one thing.

"She dies, I erase you."

They got better on the second round.

Later That Night – Elira's Study

The bottle of wine between them sat unopened. Elira had poured herself a glass. She didn't pour one for him.

Alec stood by the far wall, eyes on the hearth.

"You've reshaped the entire house in a day," she said, voice calm, but edged.

He nodded once. "The house was broken."

"And when they realize what you've done?"

"They already have."

Elira sipped, then looked over the rim of her cup.

"You really think they'll come again."

Alec turned his gaze to her — and for a moment, the usual calm sharpened.

"I know they will."

She held that for a beat. Then asked, quietly, "Why do you care this much?"

He didn't answer right away.

He turned his head toward the window. The stars above Oslo were sharp and cold. No moon tonight. Just black sky and a slow wind.

Then he spoke.

"Because the world I'm building only matters if it doesn't lose its center."

She frowned. "You mean the duchy?"

"No."

His eyes returned to hers.

"I mean you."

Later – Annarella's Room

She lay curled under a blanket of soft wool, one hand loosely clutching the flower-shaped charm on her necklace.

She didn't stir as Alec entered.

He didn't wake her.

He knelt beside the hearth, pressed a hand to the floor, and checked the trigger beneath the tile — a thin tension wire, barely visible.

It was set.

If it snapped, ten guards stationed in hidden alcoves would be at this room in under seven seconds.

And behind them?

Alec.

Always.