Chapter 197: A LETTER FROM THE NORTH
Morning in Iron Hearth always arrived with a chorus of sound.
It wasn’t the sound of roosters crowing or birds chirping like in the southern cities. Here, the day began with the hiss of steam from factory chimneys, the rhythmic pounding of foundry machines that never slept, and the thunderous roar of trains gliding over magnetic rails. These sounds were the city’s heartbeat—loud, constant, and tireless.
Rumina Sudrath had been awake since dawn.
She stood before the mirror in her room, adjusting the collar of her deep blue gown. Her eyes were slightly puffy; she had only managed three hours of sleep after ensuring Vernazza and her guards were comfortably settled in the guest quarters. But there was no time for complaints. Today was Vernazza’s final day in Iron Hearth, and as the host, Rumina had to ensure everything proceeded perfectly until the very last second.
She patted her cheeks gently, making sure her complexion wasn’t too pale. "One more hour," she whispered to her reflection. "One more hour, and this business is concluded."
The Iron Hearth Lightning Rail Station was quieter than usual that morning.
Perhaps it was because of the early hour. Or perhaps rumors of the impending war had begun to spread, making people prefer the safety of their homes. For Rumina, however, the solitude was an advantage. There were no crowds to disrupt the farewell ceremony for her guest of honor.
Madam Vernazza was already waiting on the platform when Rumina arrived. She wore the same traveling cloak she had arrived in—maroon with gold embroidery along the collar. Her four guards stood in a loose formation around her, their eyes constantly scanning the area. Two station attendants stood a short distance away, holding Vernazza’s leather bags which had already been loaded into the carriage.
"You are punctual," Vernazza remarked as Rumina approached. There was no smile on her face, but no irritation either. It was a mere statement of fact.
"I would not keep my guest waiting on the day of her departure," Rumina replied, stopping two paces in front of Vernazza. "The train leaves in twenty minutes. Have you had breakfast?"
"I have. The chicken porridge your servant served this morning... was intriguing. I have never tasted anything quite like it."
"It is my mother’s recipe."
Vernazza gave a slow nod. "Your mother knows her way around a kitchen."
They stood in a silence that wasn’t awkward. The morning wind blew from the north, carrying the scent of metal and steam from the industrial district. Vernazza gazed at the silver train standing silent on the tracks—the Lightning Rail, the masterpiece that had made her willing to travel this far.
"I have seen many things in my life," Vernazza said suddenly, her voice low. "Ships that can cross oceans without sails. Bridges that span chasms without support pillars. But this train..." She tapped the cold body of the carriage. "This is different. This isn’t just a tool. It is a statement."
"A statement of what?"
"That you are no longer playing on the same level as the other kingdoms." Vernazza turned, looking Rumina directly in the eye. "You are building something new. And that terrifies many people."
Rumina didn’t answer. She knew Vernazza was right.
Vernazza reached into the folds of her cloak and produced a small, dark brown leather folder. It wasn’t thick, but there was something about the way she held it that made it look invaluable.
"This," Vernazza said, handing the folder to Rumina. "I promised to grant you access to my trade network. I am a woman of my word."
Rumina accepted the folder with both hands. She opened it slowly. Inside was a single sheet of thick parchment filled with neat handwriting—names, cities, and brief notes beside each entry.
"This is a list of forty-seven contacts across twelve cities," Vernazza explained. "These are people who have worked with me for decades. Some are merchants, some are warehouse owners, and a few others... have connections to the smaller courts surrounding the Emerald Union."
Rumina scanned a few names. Many were unfamiliar, but some sounded recognizable—names Silas had mentioned in economic intelligence reports.
"Do not squander it," Vernazza said, her voice turning sharp. "I do not give this to just anyone. It took twenty years to build that network. If you use it carelessly, you won’t just ruin your reputation—you’ll ruin mine."
"I understand." Rumina closed the folder and held it tight. "Thank you, Madam. I will not betray this trust."
Vernazza stared at her for a long time. Then, for the first time since they had met, she smiled—not a calculated diplomatic smile, but a small, almost sincere one.
"You are different from your brother," she said. "Roland Sudrath is a man who could sell sand to a desert. But you... you don’t just sell. You build. That is far rarer."
Rumina didn’t know how to respond. She simply offered a small bow, hiding her surprise.
The train’s whistle blew—a single, long blast signaling departure in ten minutes.
Vernazza turned to her guards and signaled. They moved in unison, boarding the carriage silently. Before following them, Vernazza stopped on the last step and looked back.
"Rumina."
"Yes?"
"I hear whispers." Vernazza’s voice dropped. "About war. The Kingdom of Aethelgard is gathering its strength. The Church is involved. And Duke Solari... he has declared his loyalty to the crown."
Rumina felt a chill run down her spine. She had suspected as much, but hearing it from Vernazza’s lips made it feel far more real.
"I don’t know the details," Vernazza continued. "My trade network doesn’t reach as far as Sol-Regis. But if the rumors are true... you are about to face a massive storm."
Rumina swallowed hard. "I know."
Vernazza looked at her one last time, then nodded. "Then make sure you survive. I don’t want my trade partner dead before this rail line is finished."
She boarded the carriage. The door hissed shut behind her.
The train began to move—slowly at first, then gaining speed. Within seconds, the silver streak glided out of the station, leaving Rumina standing alone on the platform.
She watched the train until it vanished around a bend. Then, she looked at the folder in her hands. Forty-seven contacts. Twelve cities. A network built over twenty years, now hers.
"One problem solved," she whispered.
The treasurer’s office in Iron Hearth Castle was never truly silent.
Even when Rumina wasn’t there, Silas—her loyal old assistant—ensured everything kept running. The stacks of documents on the desk remained orderly, incoming reports were logged in the ledger, and every coin that moved in or out was meticulously recorded.
When Rumina pushed open the door and entered, Silas was already standing by her desk. His aged face looked more strained than usual.
"What is it?" Rumina asked, placing Vernazza’s folder on the corner of the desk.
Silas didn’t answer immediately. He took a small slip of paper from his vest pocket—the kind used to print messages from crystal pagers—and placed it before Rumina.
"A message from the Duke," he said softly. "It arrived last night, but I did not wish to disturb you while you were with our guest."
Rumina picked up the paper. Her eyes moved quickly over the brief words printed there.
The Kingdom, the Church, and Solari are united. Three months. Prepare the war funds. — Lucian.
Three sentences. No more.
Rumina read the message twice. Then three times. Each time, the words felt heavier.
"Three months," she muttered. Her hand balled into a fist on the desk.
"Lady Rumina..." Silas began, but didn’t continue.
Rumina closed her eyes for a moment. In her mind, the numbers began to whirl—the budget for the rail construction, factory operational costs, soldier wages, reserve funds, and now... war funds. Everything had to be recalculated. Everything had to be adjusted.
When she opened her eyes, her face had hardened. The exhaustion was gone, replaced by pure resolve.
"Cancel all plans for the eastern rail expansion," she said, her voice flat and efficient. "Fund only the main line to the Emerald Union. Divert the rest to the military outposts."
Silas nodded, scribbling in his small book.
"The contract with the steel suppliers from Ironhold—delay the second phase of payment. Renegotiate the interest."
"Understood."
"And call Rianor. I need to know exactly what the production costs for his new weapons are. Don’t let him hide a single coin from his report."
Silas almost smiled, but he held it back. "I shall convey it."
Rumina stared at the piles of paper on her desk—contracts, invoices, reports, proposals. A week ago, they were about construction and expansion. Now, they all had to be converted into the machinery of war.
She took the folder Vernazza had given her and opened it again. The list of forty-seven contacts looked different to her now. It wasn’t just a trade network—it was a backup logistics chain. A smuggling route if the ports were blockaded. A source of emergency funds if the treasury ran thin.
Vernazza might not have intended to give her a weapon. But Rumina would use it as one.
"One problem solved," she whispered again, this time with a different tone. "And another arrives."
Outside the window, the sun had risen higher. The factory chimneys were still billowing smoke. The trains were still passing. The city was still alive.
And in the quiet treasurer’s office, a nineteen-year-old girl was calculating the cost of a war.