The return to the Imperial Palace was blessedly quiet. The mission was complete: the Empire's most powerful houses were on their side. Riven and Vaelorian had transitioned from celebrated symbols of an alliance to the active, hands-on team ready to govern.
The Palace, though still a maze of politics, felt like home now, safely anchored by the man Riven loved. But their work had changed completely. No more dazzling feasts or secret flirtations—it was time for the gritty, unglamorous work of learning how to run an empire.
The day after their return, Riven found Vaelorian hunched over a vast, cracking map in his private strategy room, drowning in scrolls of new census data. Riven poured two steaming cups of mint-and-spice tea, the familiar scent a comfort in the stale air.
"Morning, Your Highness," Riven murmured, setting the tea down. He'd shed the stiff, fancy silks for a simple leather and linen—his Knight gear, ready for action.
Vaelorian stretched, rolling his shoulders with a groan before spinning around, his look focused and buzzing with energy.
"Morning, my love. Look at this mess." He stabbed the map with a charcoal stick, pointing at a dusty, beige region south of House Veridian's lands. "We spent the tour smoothing over big egos and consolidating military muscle. Now we deal with the real truth of running things. We secured the foundation. Time to start laying the bricks."
Riven leaned in, studying the neglected area. "Sparse. Mostly tough miners and dirt farmers. It looks like the capital has always treated it like an awkward, ugly cousin."
"Exactly," Vaelorian agreed, his voice dropping to an agreeable tone. "Every single noble House we visited cares about their slice of the imperial pie. Ashbourne wants secure trade routes. Durnhall wants more battle swords. Moriah wants more jewels and pretty poetry. But absolutely no one is looking at the people who actually need simple things like bread to get by."
He circled the desolate region. "This area is starving, my love. Worse, they have zero voice in the Senate. If we want our new Empire—the one where everyone gets a seat at the table—to actually work, we start here. We start quiet, small, but make something meaningful."
Riven felt a swell of pride. This was his Vaelorian—the only royalty capable of seeing past the crown to the cracks in the commoners pavement.
"It's a huge gamble, Your Highness," Riven warned, crossing his arms. "It's not going to be a flashy win. It won't impress the Senate. And if it fails, it gives those nasty old fools a perfect way to blame our naiveness."
Vaelorian met Riven's gaze, his eyes burning with intent. "That's why this project will be all yours, Riven. It needs a Knight's focus and an Ashbourne's ability to get things done, no matter how difficult. I can't be seen spearheading a dirt-roots effort; the Senate will scream 'Prince meddling.' But you? You have a way of charming and conquering the biggest regional powers in the Empire. You have the respect of every general there is. Your word is gold now."
He pushed a thick, heavy dossier across the table, labeled: PROJECT: BREADBASKET.
"You are free to build your team. I'll give you whatever you need. Take this. Find the local heroes. Figure out the supply lines. We'll get the resources we need without begging the Senate for a single copper piece," Vaelorian said, and Riven smiled, a wicked, exciting glint in his eye. "Use every resource to your advantage, including the loyalty you earned during our tour—every favor. Pull them in. Force them if you must, to contribute to something that isn't their own vanity."
Riven picked up the dossier. It felt heavier than any battle shield he'd ever held. He grinned wider, feeling a rush of genuine, real purpose.
"So, Your Highness, you want me to turn their loyalty into actionable resources? You know who you're talking to right?"
"Precisely," Vaelorian confirmed, stepping closer and resting his hands on Riven's shoulders, his thumbs rubbing gently near his collarbone. "You spent the tour being the perfect future consort everyone admired. I know you've been itching for a release. Have at it. This project is very important, it'll be how we measure the support we won."
"And what will you be doing, Your Highness, while I'm turning stubborn miners into allies and stuck-up nobles into actual philanthropists?" Riven asked, a loving, teasing edge in his voice.
Vaelorian leaned in, his lips brushing Riven's ear. "I will be here, my love. Running the Senate ragged with mountains of boring paperwork and distracting them so completely that they don't even notice you are quietly reshaping the entire damn Empire beneath their old, grumpy feet. Every successful operation needs a perfect decoy, don't you think?"
Riven laughed, the sound easy and full of affection. He looked down at the heavy dossier, feeling the weight of the task and the thrilling potential of their partnership.
"Very well, Your Highness. You do your thing and I'll do mine," Riven said, meeting Vaelorian's eyes. The love they shared was no longer just for comfort; it was a potent tool of change. "The time for talking is over. The time for action begins."