Chapter 2: Ironwood Viscounty
Tattle~ tattle~
The rhythmic rattling of the carriage had been the only sound between them for nearly thirty minutes. Francesca and Miller sat opposite each other, the air thick with the kind of silence that usually precedes a storm or a love confession. Finally, Miller broke it.
“I am surprised by your decision to leave the capital, my lady,” he said, his voice steady despite the swaying of the coach. “I truly believed you would find moving to the Ironwood territory... troublesome.”
“Francesca,” she replied, her expression shifting into a soft, curious look. She let a small smile play on her lips. “We just got married, my lord. Addressing me as ‘my lady’ feels a bit... distant. You should use my name. Or a nickname, if you prefer.”
Miller searched her eyes for a few seconds. Francesca caught the faint, unmistakable bloom of red creeping onto his cheeks.
“Francesca...” he repeated, the name sounding foreign yet firm on his tongue. “Then, you should also refer to me by my name. No more ‘my lord,’ Fran—Francesca.”
Francesca chuckled. It took us a whole year to reach this stage in my past life, she thought. Back then, we only saw each other a few times a year. This time, things are moving much faster.
“I don’t know what you heard about my time in the LeonCraft house, but I assure you it was anything but pleasant,” she said, her tone sharpening as the carriage jolted over a stray stone. “That should be reason enough for my desire to leave that hellhole, shouldn’t it?”
“I knew Duke Harrison LeonCraft was... viscous,” Miller replied, clearing his throat as he struggled to find a polite word. “But I didn’t imagine he would be such a bas— a bad person to his own daughter.”
Francesca smiled and leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You can curse him to your heart’s content, Miller. I won’t be offended. If anything, I might join you.” Miller reached up to conceal a growing smile behind his hand. “I shall keep that in mind, then.”
The carriage gave a violent lurch as the terrain began to change. Miller reached to his side and pulled out a leather-bound ledger.
“Given my territory’s terrain, the journey and the living conditions will be quite bothersome for you, Francesca,” he said, his brow furrowing with genuine concern towards her cane. “If there is anything specific you wish for me to arrange, please, tell me.”
“Well... thank you for being so considerate,” Francesca replied, adjusting her posture. “A bathroom attached directly to my chamber would be ideal.”
Miller nodded seriously. When the carriage rattled with renewed force, he reached out and sharply knocked on the wooden wall, shouting an instruction to the driver to slow down and be mindful of the passenger.
“Here,” Miller said, handing her the book. “You might want to study the names of my aides and vassals. To be honest... they might not look upon you favorably at first.”
Francesca accepted the book, her thumb tracing the cover. “Because my father snatched the exclusive mining rights to the Ironwood gems as part of the marriage dowry, right?”
I remember how he got that title, Francesca mused, looking at the man across from her. Miller became a Viscount after leading his mercenary group to a flawless victory against the Jin Kingdom. He fought under the Third Prince’s banner, which made him a target. The First and Second Prince's factions schemed to 'reward' him with a dying territory just to keep the Third Prince's influence in check.
“I’ve been curious about something,” Francesca said aloud. “My father supports the Second Prince. He wanted to leash you by proposing this marriage in exchange for those mining rights. It was an obvious trap. Why did you accept?”
Miller leaned back with a heavy sigh. “In the North, exclusive mining rights can only be traded between families. We had the gems, but we had no steady legal buyer. Last year’s finances were… abysmal, barely enough to keep the people fed. To keep the territory afloat... I believed this was the only move I could make.”
He looked down at his calloused hands. “It really is my fault. I used to be a mercenary, so I am not well-versed in administration or politics.”
“That’s not true. You did what you could,” Francesca reassured him, her voice steady despite the rattling of the coach.
It’s not your fault, she thought in her mind. The First and Second Princes are playing a long game. They want you trapped in this remote region, struggling with an endless economic crisis so the Third Prince is forced to constantly drain his own resources just to keep you afloat.
“But still,” Francesca continued, “from what I’ve heard, there is only one road connecting the Viscounty to the other territories. If the Duke, My Father has priority rights over that road for deliveries like written in the agreement... things will be troublesome.”
A shadow of worry crossed Miller’s face. He knew the risks better than anyone, but he had traded his pride to prevent a total economic collapse for his people for now. Sensing the heavy mood, he tried to shift the subject. “Let’s put this talk aside for now. Besides... you won’t have to be involved in the affairs of the Viscounty anyway, right?”
“Miller?” Francesca tilted her head.
“I… I am sorry,” Miller said, unable to meet her gaze. The guilt was plain on his face. “I don’t think my aides and vassals will be comfortable with you handling territory matters just yet.”
He’s being honest, Francesca realized. He fears his people see me as my father’s spy. A LeonCraft daughter entering the Ironwood den... they probably think I’m here to finish the job my father started.
“Well, in that case, it will be a while fine… I don’t have interest in it anyways,” Francesca smiled, reaching into her bag and pulling out several slips of paper. “But that doesn't mean we can't play some games! We’re in a marriage of convenience, but we still need a bond, don't we?”
“Of course! I have no intention of neglecting you, Francesca. I truly wish for us to have a real bond,” Miller replied instantly, his earnestness catching her off guard. “But what does that have to do with games?”
Francesca’s smile turned mischievous. “Don’t you know, Lord Miller Ironwood? Playing games together is one of the fastest ways to get to know someone’s true character.”
As the days passed and the carriage climbed higher, the air grew crisp and biting. The temperature plummeted as they reached the northern peaks. Francesca swapped her silk wraps for a heavy, thick fur coat, watching through the frosted window as the carriage ascended a single, narrow road that hugged the side of the Ironwood Mountain.
Finally, they reached the summit and began to descend into the heart of the mountain itself.
The Ironwood territory was located within a massive caldera, a giant, basin-shaped depression formed nearly a century ago by the collapse of an ancient volcano. As they cleared the rim, Francesca’s breath hitched.
Below them lay a scene of breathtaking, melancholic beauty. The town was nestled at the bottom of the basin, surrounded by towering natural walls of dark volcanic rock that reached toward the clouds like a crown. Because of the altitude, a soft, ethereal mist clung to the rooftops, illuminated by the fading sunlight.
The architecture was humble, sturdy stone houses and wooden cabins built to withstand the cold but the layout was circular and harmonious, centered around a shimmering blue lake at the very heart of the caldera. It looked less like a "poor territory" and more like a hidden, forgotten jewel.
“The altitude and these natural walls have made the Ironwood territory impenetrable for over a century,” Miller noted, his voice tinged with a mix of pride and sadness. “But that isolation is also our greatest weakness.”
Francesca didn't answer immediately. Her eyes were sparkling, darting from the steep cliffs to the small plumes of smoke rising from the chimneys below.
It’s beautiful, she thought.