While inspecting the newly acquired territory, they came across an unusually fertile stretch of land. So rich that it almost felt wasted.
They soon found out why. It was not just neglect. The count had been actively terrible at ruling. His taxes had been so outrageous that farmers could not afford to cultivate their own fields. The result was predictable. The region had ended up starving under its own lord.
Now that Winterpel controlled the area, they could relocate their own farmers to restore productivity. But there was still a manpower shortage.
Giscard proposed a harsher solution. Hunt down the locals who had fled during the war and force them back.
Nadia immediately pushed back. Instead of coercion, she suggested offering refuge. Welcoming displaced people and giving them work on the land. A far more humane approach, and one that protected their reputation.
At this point she had already proven herself repeatedly, so Glenn gave her full authority to handle the issue.
Nadia, as confident as ever, said she could secure enough workers within days. All she needed was his sword.
The ceremonial blade passed down through generations of Winterpel. Symbol of authority and leadership. An irreplaceable heirloom.
Glenn agreed without hesitation. But instead of handing it to her directly, he passed it to Fabian. Realistically, that sword was far beyond her strength.
The truth was, she had never planned to use brute force anyway. Her strategy was more symbolic. Something like a sword in the stone test.
She planted the blade in the centre of town and made an announcement. Anyone who could pull it out would be rewarded with ten gold bars.
At first nobody dared. The villagers were still wary of their new ruler, and assumed it was some kind of trap, or an execution test in disguise. Fear kept them away.
Until greed started whispering louder.
Eventually a young man named Peter stepped forward and tried his luck. And instead of punishment, he got rewarded. Ten gold bars, delivered immediately by Giscard. Exactly as promised.
Nadia's intention became clear. She was not just hiring workers. She was rebuilding faith in Winterpel's rule.
The effect spread fast. Stories of House Winterpel travelled to nearby villages, drawing people towards Balin Castle. Not out of fear, but out of curiosity and hope. Soon refugees and workers began arriving in waves, submitting requests, paperwork and offers of labour.
And once again, Nadia made it all look effortless.
Glenn watched her carefully the entire time, still trying to figure her out. She clearly worked tirelessly for his people. But when it came to him personally, she remained distant, almost uninterested. Aside from the occasional charming act, she did not try to get close.
And that, oddly enough, raised even more suspicion. If she kept this up, Glenn might start doubting her all over again.
Out of nowhere, Fabian burst in with good news. They had found the blueprints to Balin Castle.
This was not just helpful. It was a massive breakthrough. For years the castle had been considered untouchable, and even now that it had fallen, much of its inner structure remained a mystery. It turned out the place was practically a labyrinth. Twisting halls, hidden corners, secret rooms. It had clearly been designed to confuse and trap anyone who dared invade.
And who knew what could still be hiding inside? Treasure, maybe. But more importantly, something far rarer. Dwarven craftsmanship.
Back in the day, Count Altio had held ties with the dwarves, legendary artisans known for forging exceptional steel. Weapons, tools, household items. Everything they made was top-tier. If even a fraction of that remained in the castle, it could be priceless.
So naturally they started searching, hoping to uncover either the goods or at least a clue leading to the dwarves themselves.
But despite having the blueprints, they came up empty. Nothing. No hidden stash. No trace.
Until Glenn noticed something. At the end of an ordinary-looking hallway, he discovered a concealed passage.
Here was the surprising part. Even Nadia had missed it. That alone said how well hidden it was.
They stepped inside, entering what felt like an entirely different level of the castle. Something closer to a dungeon. It was not marked on the blueprint at all. And the walls were stained with dried blood.
Definitely not the kind of place where you expected to find treasure chests.
Still, they pressed forward, and eventually reached a forge. Not just any forge, but one lined with finely crafted weapons. Each one carefully made. Each one telling a story of expert hands at work.
Suddenly a strange sound echoed from behind a locked door. Without a second thought, Glenn kicked it open.
And what was waiting inside was not treasure. It was a row of prison cells.
And inside those cells were dwarves.