Sonia watched Tales with a pensive look on his face.
"You know, when I returned to the Royal Capital this time, I found everyone living quite comfortably." After a moment, she gave a soft snort, pulled out her tobacco pouch and rolling papers again, and began rolling another cigarette. "They're no longer as panicked as they were a few years ago, ready to pack up and flee at any moment, constantly worried that the Northerners might attack again."
"That's a good thing." Tales nodded. "And you deserve immense credit for guarding the fortress."
But the Flower of the Fortress merely snorted, her voice laced with sarcasm:
"In fact, a month ago, I took some men north to the Black Sand Territory and 'camped' on Lumba's turf—in plain terms, I was conducting reconnaissance."
Tales did not turn around. He merely gazed at the distant Star Lake. "You've got guts."
"It's very quiet there now." Sonia's hands remained steady as she rolled the cigarette, meticulous and precise. She did not look drunk at all.
"The Black Sand Territory just went through a civil war, so everything is still recovering. But the farmers and herders are paying less tax, merchants are paying lower transit fees, and there are fewer bandits on the roads. Even between villages, the brawls the Northern roughnecks used to enjoy so much have become less common. I hear that no matter what the dispute is, they rely on the newly arrived officials—or a whole pile of royal decrees I can't make heads or tails of—to resolve it."
Royal decrees.
Tales said nothing, but his thoughts gradually pulled away from his melancholy and sighs.
"Most of the Northern lords I used to deal with, the familiar old rotten, stinking lot—Laiwan, Mende, Devensen, Peruno, Ika—are gone. Some lost their heads in