Lucian spent the next few hours pacing his chambers while Dorian frantically scribbled notes and Elaine lounged in a chair, tossing an apple from hand to hand.

  "Alright," Lucian finally said, rubbing his temples. "This is bad. Really bad."

  Dorian didn’t even look up from his parchment. "Glad you’re catching up."

  Elaine smirked. "Oh, come on, it’s just another impossible challenge. You’re good at those."

  Lucian groaned. "Duskwatch worked because I didn’t interfere! What if this new province actually needs leadership?"

  Dorian adjusted his glasses. "It does. Badly. The province of Blackhollow has been in decline for years—corrupt officials, failing infrastructure, constant bandit attacks…"

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  Lucian buried his face in his hands. "And they’re giving it to me to prove my policies work? How is that fair?!"

  Elaine took a bite of her apple. "It’s not. That’s the point."

  The next morning, Lucian stood at the gates of the imperial capital, staring at the caravan that would take him to Blackhollow.

  "Last chance to run," he muttered.

  Dorian sighed. "If you flee, you’ll be branded a traitor."

  "Right, right," Lucian mumbled. "Better to fail spectacularly in public than be executed in private."

  Elaine clapped him on the back. "That’s the spirit!"

  The journey was long and uncomfortable. By the time they arrived in Blackhollow, Lucian was exhausted and already regretting everything. The town itself was as bad as Dorian had described—crumbling buildings, wary-eyed citizens, and guards that looked more like thugs than protectors.

  As he stepped out of the carriage, a short, nervous-looking man approached and bowed. "L-Lord Veilwood, welcome to Blackhollow. I’m Edgar, the steward. I, um, hope you can help us."

  Lucian gave a weak smile. "Sure! Helping is what I do best!"

  Dorian groaned. "Oh no."

  Elaine grinned. "Here we go again."