Morning in the northern provinces brings a chill that cuts through the borrowed clothes I've been provided. I pull the fur-lined cloak tighter around my shoulders as I wait in Lord Harrowmont's courtyard, watching my breath cloud in the crisp air. The mountains looming beyond the settlement cast long shadows across the cobblestones, a constant reminder that we're far from the comfort of my swamp.

  "Not quite the weather you're accustomed to, I imagine," Lord Harrowmont says, approaching with a small retinue of northern nobles.

  "My swamp has its own kind of cold," I reply, "but it's more damp than biting."

  He nods approvingly. "A fair assessment. The north breeds hardier folk precisely because of this bite in the air. It shapes our character, much like your swamps have shaped yours."

  There's a genuine respect in his manner that I hadn't expected after our first meeting. Word of yesterday's battle has spread quickly, details growing more elaborate with each retelling. According to the serving staff I overheard at breakfast, I personally wrestled the warlord's fragment weapon from his hands while riding Crystallis, all while commanding an army of plant monsters that sprouted from the earth itself.

  The reality had been considerably less dramatic, but I'm not inclined to correct the stories. Let them have their myths if it makes them feel better about a Monster Lord in their midst.

  "We've prepared a tour of our territories," Harrowmont continues. "I believe it will provide valuable context for understanding the north's... unique position within Dawnhaven."

  The faint emphasis on "unique" tells me this tour will be more political than scenic. I glance toward my lieutenants, gathered near the stables where our mounts are being prepared. Nerk catches my eye and gives a subtle nod. He's already analyzed the situation and clearly sees value in hearing the northern perspective.

  "I look forward to it," I tell Harrowmont. "Though I should warn you, I'm not much of a horseman."

  He laughs, a big booming sound that seems to fit the mountainous landscape. "We've accounted for that. A sturdy mountain pony has been selected for you. They practically guide themselves along these trails."

  As the stable hands bring out the horses, I notice a slight commotion at the manor's entrance. Princess Eliana emerges, dressed in practical riding attire rather than the formal gowns I've seen her in previously. Her hair is pulled back in a simple braid, and the fur-trimmed cloak she wears is clearly chosen for function over fashion.

  "Princess," Harrowmont says, surprise evident in his voice. "We weren't expecting you to join the territorial survey."

  "My father's interests include all of Dawnhaven, Lord Harrowmont," she replies, her tone perfectly diplomatic. "I would be remiss in my duty if I didn't take this opportunity to better understand the northern provinces."

  Her eyes meet mine briefly before darting away. There's an awkwardness between us now that wasn't there before last night's conversation. I'm still not entirely sure what happened; one moment we were discussing the bond network, and the next she seemed startled and embarrassed. Whatever the misunderstanding, it's created a strange tension neither of us seems ready to address directly.

  "Of course, Your Highness," Harrowmont says with a formal bow. "Your presence honors us."

  The northern lords exchange glances, their plans clearly requiring some adjustment. I can practically see the calculations running behind their eyes. Having the crown princess along changes what they can say, how openly they can criticize the king.

  I mount my horse with less grace than I'd like, earning a sympathetic look from Eliana as she effortlessly swings into her saddle. Nerk and Morrigan join our party, while Gorthal and the blood-warriors remain at the settlement. A dozen guards in northern livery form our escort, and with Harrowmont's signal, we set out.

  The tour begins with a visit to what Harrowmont proudly calls "the most productive silver mine in the kingdom." The entrance is carved into the mountainside, reinforced timber supports framing a dark mouth that swallows workers in wool caps and rough clothing. As we dismount to observe the operation closer, I notice the haggard faces of the miners, their skin pale from lack of sunlight, their hands callused and cracked.

  "Three shipments a month go directly to the royal treasury," Harrowmont explains as we watch carts of ore being hauled from the depths. "Plus the crown's twenty percent tax on whatever remains."

  "That seems steep," I observe, noticing how many of the miners glance toward Eliana with expressions ranging from hope to resentment.

  "Indeed," Harrowmont agrees, watching my reaction carefully. "Especially when less than five percent returns to the north for infrastructure and defense."

  Eliana's face remains carefully neutral, though I detect a slight tightening around her eyes. "I wasn't aware the allocation was so imbalanced," she says quietly.

  "Few in the capital are," Harrowmont replies without accusation. "That's why this tour is valuable, Princess."

  We continue to a high pasture where shaggy mountain cattle graze on stubborn grasses. A herder approaches, bowing awkwardly to Eliana before launching into a conversation with Harrowmont about increasing wolf attacks on the outer pastures.

  "The bounty for wolf pelts was canceled three years ago," the man explains, his weathered face creased with worry. "And the request for additional guards was denied. We've lost twenty head this season alone."

  "Why was the bounty canceled?" I ask, genuinely curious.

  "Royal treasurer claimed fiscal necessity," Harrowmont answers. "The same season the capital hosted three grand tournaments."

  Again, I notice Eliana's carefully controlled reaction. She's listening intently, filing away information while maintaining her diplomatic mask.

  As we ride on, the pattern continues. A small village where the mill tax has doubled despite a poor harvest. A bridge left unrepaired after spring floods, forcing farmers to take a two-day detour to market. A frontier outpost understaffed and underequipped despite increasing raider activity.

  At each stop, Harrowmont and his fellow lords are careful to present facts rather than accusations. They don't directly criticize King Arlen, but the cumulative effect of their examples paints a clear picture: the northern provinces bear a disproportionate burden while receiving minimal support from the crown.

  "It wasn't always this way," an elderly lord named Bannock tells me as we rest our horses by a mountain stream. "The king used to understand the importance of the north. He visited yearly, knew many of us by name."

  "What changed?" I ask, accepting a water skin he offers.

  Bannock glances at Eliana, who has walked a short distance away to speak with a local healer gathering herbs along the bank. "Hard to say precisely," he answers diplomatically. "Priorities shift. Often we find that rulers... change after they've worn the crown for some time."

  There's something in his tone that suggests he's saying more than his words convey, but before I can press him further, Eliana returns, and the conversation shifts to more neutral topics.

  By midday, we've reached a settlement larger than the others, a trading hub where mountain paths converge. Here, Harrowmont has arranged a meal in the town hall, a sturdy building of stone and timber. Local officials present reports on trade volumes, tax collections, and defense concerns. The details would be mind-numbing if not for the clear theme emerging: this region has been systematically neglected.

  As platters of hearty mountain fare are brought out, I find myself seated next to Eliana for the first time since we set out this morning. The awkwardness between us has evolved into something more contemplative, her initial embarrassment apparently giving way to serious consideration of what she's seen today.

  "You've been quiet," I observe, keeping my voice low.

  She arranges her napkin with deliberate care. "I'm listening. And thinking."

  "About...?"

  "About whether a kingdom should function this way." She meets my eyes directly. "About what kind of ruler allows this to happen."

  It's a surprisingly candid statement, especially given that she's talking about her father. But after everything I've seen today, I have questions of my own.

  I wait until Lord Harrowmont joins us to ask the question that's been bothering me all morning. "My lord, I can see the crown has neglected these territories, but what about the northern houses? Surely you have resources of your own? Why haven't you stepped in to help your people more?"

  Harrowmont's expression darkens. "A fair question, Monster Lord. The crown demands eighty percent of all tax revenue, leaving us with barely enough to maintain basic functions."

  "And yet," interjects Eliana unexpectedly, "royal treasury reports show the northern provinces have been withholding significant portions of their tax obligations for the past three years." Her diplomatic mask remains in place, but her eyes are sharp. "According to the Royal Exchequer, the north owes nearly two hundred thousand crowns in arrears."

  I glance between them, suddenly aware I've stumbled into a much more complex political situation than I realized.

  Harrowmont shifts uncomfortably. "Your Highness is well-informed." He takes a long drink from his goblet before continuing. "Yes, we've withheld some portions of the crown's demands. Out of necessity, not defiance."

  "And where have these withheld funds gone, my lord?" Eliana asks pointedly. "I see little evidence of them being used for public welfare."

  The northern lord's face flushes slightly. "Some has gone to essential services the crown no longer supports. Road repairs, winter grain reserves, militia stipends." He hesitates, then adds with surprising candor, "And yes, some has remained in our personal coffers. Self-preservation is not a crime, Princess."

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "While your people starve?" There's a new edge to Eliana's voice.

  "The alternative was to send everything to the capital and watch our provinces collapse entirely," another lord interjects defensively. "At least we've maintained some semblance of order here. More than can be said for the eastern territories, where lords sent every copper to your father and now preside over ruins."

  "And your new hunting lodges? Your imported wines?" Eliana challenges. "Are those necessary for provincial stability as well?"

  An uncomfortable silence falls over the table. I watch Harrowmont's reaction carefully, noting the guilt that flashes across his face before his expression hardens.

  "We're not saints, Princess," he finally admits. "The north has always operated by different rules than the soft southern provinces. We're harder people living in harder lands." He gestures around the well-appointed town hall. "Yes, we've kept more than strictly needed for bare necessities. But compare our worst excesses to your father's summer palace renovations, and tell me who better serves their people."

  I'm struck by the frankness of this exchange. Neither side is purely virtuous, but the rot clearly extends throughout the kingdom. The crown squeezes the provinces dry, the northern lords withhold taxes while still indulging their own luxuries, and caught between these grasping powers are ordinary people just trying to survive.

  "A broken system," I observe quietly, "where everyone claims to serve the common good while serving themselves."

  Eliana glances at me, something new in her expression. "Yes," she agrees softly. "And the people suffer for it."

  After the meal, our tour continues to smaller settlements nestled in the mountain valleys. The conditions grow increasingly stark the further we travel from the main roads. In one isolated village, children with thin faces and patched clothing watch us from doorways. A woman approaches Eliana directly, her work-roughened hands clutching a petition.

  "My son serves in the royal guard, Your Highness," she explains, her voice wavering with suppressed emotion. "Two years with no leave to visit home, and half his wages seized for 'special treasury allocations' we never see benefit from."

  Eliana accepts the petition with genuine concern, promising to investigate personally. As we ride away, I notice her knuckles white on the reins, her composure beginning to crack.

  Our next stop proves to be the breaking point. What Harrowmont describes as a "sample of our frontier settlements" turns out to be a village ravaged by neglect. As we ride in, an elderly man collapses in the street, a crowd quickly gathering around him.

  Eliana dismounts before anyone can stop her, rushing to the fallen villager. I follow, watching as she kneels in the dirt beside him, oblivious to her fine riding clothes.

  "What happened?" she demands of the village healer who pushes through the crowd.

  "Starvation, Your Highness," the woman replies without sugar-coating. "The winter tax took most of our stores, then the spring flooding ruined what fields we had left. We've been living on foraged roots and whatever game the hunters can find, which isn't much since the royal forests were declared off-limits last year."

  "The royal forests?" Eliana repeats, disbelief in her voice. "You mean the hunting grounds twenty miles south? Those have been common use for generations."

  An older man steps forward, bowing awkwardly. "Not anymore, Princess. Royal proclamation came last autumn. Any villager caught hunting there faces twenty lashes and a month in the stocks."

  "That's absurd," Eliana says, her diplomatic mask finally shattering completely. "Those forests have always been shared with the northern settlements during times of need."

  "Things have changed," the man says simply.

  I watch as something breaks behind Eliana's eyes. She stands slowly, brushing dirt from her knees with mechanical movements.

  "Lord Harrowmont," she says, her voice unnaturally calm. "Please arrange for emergency provisions to be distributed to this village immediately. Draw from my personal travel allowance if necessary."

  "Of course, Your Highness," Harrowmont replies, clearly approving of her decision.

  "And I want the name of whoever issued the proclamation about the royal forests," she continues. "Along with a list of every similar edict issued in the past five years."

  As the local officials scramble to comply with her demands, Eliana turns to me, her eyes blazing with a determination I haven't seen before.

  "It's time we spoke privately," she says, then turns back to Harrowmont. "My lord, might we rest by that stream ahead? I find I need a moment away from all this."

  Harrowmont agrees readily, and soon Eliana and I are walking along the rocky bank, far enough from the others to speak without being overheard. Morrigan and Nerk position themselves discreetly nearby, close enough to protect but far enough to give us privacy.

  "I've been a fool," Eliana says once we're alone, her carefully maintained facade finally dropping. "Living in the palace, accepting the stories I was told about how the kingdom functions. Believing my father when he spoke of necessary sacrifices and temporary measures."

  "It's not your fault," I offer. "You can only work with the information you're given."

  "But it is my responsibility to seek the truth," she counters. "These are my people too. Their suffering is my failure as much as anyone's."

  She picks up a smooth stone and tosses it into the rushing water. "There's something you should know about the crown. Something not widely shared outside the royal family."

  I wait as she gathers her thoughts.

  "Each monarch leaves something of themselves in the crown when they rule," she explains. "It's part of the fragment's magic. Their wisdom, their experience... but also their flaws, their weaknesses. Over time, these accumulate."

  "Like a magical inheritance," I suggest.

  "More like a gradual transformation," she clarifies. "The crown slowly changes the wearer, amplifying certain traits while diminishing others. My father wasn't always so..." she searches for a diplomatic word, "...focused on the capital's prosperity at the expense of the outer territories."

  "The crown fragment is influencing him?"

  She nods. "It's both Dawnhaven's greatest blessing and its curse. The fragment ensures continuity, preserves ancient knowledge, strengthens royal authority. But it also distorts. Each king or queen eventually becomes something different from who they were when they first put it on."

  "And there's no way to counter this effect?"

  "There are supposed to be safeguards. The crown needs to be passed on to the next generation before it affects the current ruler succumbs to its influence." She looks away. "But my father has been hesitant to pass the crown on to me. Even now he is hoping for a boy to inherit his legacy."

  I begin to understand the deeper problem. "So the crown's influence goes unchecked."

  "Precisely." Her eyes meet mine, determination replacing the uncertainty I'd seen earlier. "Which is why I can't wait for him to retire or die before taking action. By then, too much damage will be done. These people need help now."

  She takes a deep breath. "I've made my decision, John. I accept your offer to become your sixth lieutenant."

  The statement catches me by surprise, despite our conversation leading in this direction. "Are you sure? It's a big step, especially after what you've learned about the bond network's hierarchy."

  "I'm sure," she says firmly. "My father can't save Dawnhaven from what it's becoming. Only I can, and to do that, I need the power your bond can provide. The ability to truly help these people, to reform what's broken."

  "Your father won't appreciate his kingdom essentially falling under my authority," I warn.

  Her laugh holds little humor. "He's already trying to bind our territories through marriage. This simply accelerates and reshapes that process into something more immediately beneficial to the people who need help now."

  She offers her hand, a formal gesture that carries immense significance. "I, Eliana Northcrest, Crown Princess of Dawnhaven, formally request to join your bond network as your sixth lieutenant. Not just for my own power, but for the sake of my kingdom and its people."

  The sixth bond slot within me pulses in response to her declaration, as if recognizing and approving her commitment. I take her offered hand, feeling the connection between us strengthen immediately.

  "I accept," I tell her, my voice steadier than I feel. The crystal lens at my chest begins to glow, the familiar patterns of a forming bond spreading across my skin.

  The connection forms with startling speed, stronger and more vibrant than any previous bond. I feel Eliana's essence merge with the network, her royal bloodline and natural leadership abilities amplifying the connection in unexpected ways. Through our joined hands, I sense the potential spreading beyond her, tendrils of energy reaching outward toward Dawnhaven itself.

  This isn't just adding another lieutenant. This is integrating an entire human kingdom into the bond network.

  When the initial surge subsides, Eliana gasps, her eyes wide with wonder. "I can feel them," she whispers. "Nerk, Morrigan, Gorthal, Morkath, Crystallis... and you at the center. It's like nothing I've ever experienced."

  "How do you feel?" I ask, still holding her hand, concerned about potential side effects.

  "Stronger," she says with quiet amazement. "Clearer. As if a fog I never knew existed has lifted." She looks around at the people around us with newfound intensity. "I realize now the sickness plaguing my kingdom, my people. It must be cleansed from the top down if we are ever to recover as a kingdom."

  "The corruption... it's everywhere. I can see it now, like dark veins running through the entire kingdom." Her voice taking on a new depth of understanding. "Not just my father's court or the northern lords, but the entire system. The treasury officials skimming funds, the tax collectors taking bribes, the military officers selling supplies meant for their troops..."

  She turns to look at the distant village. "I can sense the undercurrents of loyalty and resentment in each settlement we visited today. I can trace how my father's policies created ripple effects throughout the kingdom, how the northern lords responded, how the common people adapted."

  Her posture straightens subtly, a natural authority emerging that wasn't fully present before. "I understand now how to speak to reach different minds, what words would move a farmer to action versus what would convince a merchant or inspire a soldier."

  She shakes her head, as if trying to process the flood of insights. "The kingdom needs to be rebuilt from its foundations. Not just policy changes, but a complete transformation of how power flows through Dawnhaven. The old structures are too corrupted to salvage."

  "The bond enhances your natural abilities," I explain, watching her with fascination. I've seen this transformation in monsters before, but never in a human. "You'll discover new capabilities as the connection strengthens."

  "I feel as though I could walk into that council chamber right now and unify the northern lords behind a single purpose," she says, testing this new sense of leadership. "Not through manipulation or false promises, but through genuine understanding of their needs and fears. I can see the path to unite this fractured kingdom."

  When she looks at me again, her eyes hold a wisdom and vision that transcends her years. "This is what a ruler should be, isn't it? Not just someone who wears a crown, but someone who truly comprehends the kingdom and its people. Someone who can lead not through force but through insight."

  Lord Harrowmont calls from up the path, wondering if we're ready to continue the tour. Eliana's expression shifts as she considers the northern lords waiting for us, her new abilities clearly processing the strategic implications.

  "We need to use this carefully," she says, her voice taking on a decisive edge I haven't heard before. "The northern lords will recognize that something has changed in me. I won't hide it entirely, that would create suspicion, but I'll present it as a moment of clarity and newfound determination rather than revealing the bond."

  I nod, impressed by her immediate strategic thinking. "That makes sense."

  "They need to see me as stronger, more independent, but not as someone who has fundamentally changed allegiance," she continues, already planning several steps ahead. "I'll use today to begin laying groundwork for the changes to come."

  As we walk back to rejoin the northern lords, Eliana moves with newfound purpose, her bearing now unmistakably regal despite her youth. The connection between us hums with potential, a living link that binds not just us but the future of our territories.

  "My father is the immediate challenge," she says quietly but with determination. "The crown fragment will sense the bond. It may even try to resist my influence."

  "We'll face that together," I assure her. "That's how the network works. No lieutenant stands alone."

  She smiles, a shrewd and confident expression that holds nothing of the hesitation she might have shown before the bond. "I just connected myself to the Monster Lord and his array of evolved creatures to save a kingdom rotting from within. My father and his fragment crown don't stand a chance."

  As we mount our horses to continue the tour, I catch myself marveling at how quickly things change. The bond network pulses with six distinct connections now, each lieutenant bringing unique strengths and new possibilities. Whatever comes next, we'll face it together.

  I just hope King Arlen doesn't immediately declare war when he finds out.