Strength in Unity: The Fourth Child of Shelb

Location: A border village near the northern wastelands.

 The faint glow of the rising sun painted the border village in soft, golden hues, casting elongated shadows over weathered wooden structures. Crisp, biting air carried the mingled scents of frost and faint smoke from nearby hearths. Snow clung to the edges of homes in high drifts, sparkling like crystal under the sunlight.

Villagers moved briskly, their faces set with determination as they reinforced homes against another unforgiving winter.

Nearby, Shelb troops worked diligently. Their polished armor reflected muted sunlight as they set up a temporary base in the bustling square. The sound of hammering, shouted orders, and clanking metal filled the air with energy and purpose.

Micheal von Shelb stood at the square's center, his thick winter coat lined with fur and reinforced with leather shielding him from the biting cold. His platinum blonde hair glinted in the sunlight, giving him an almost otherworldly presence.

Beside him rested a snow-clearing contraption, hastily created the week prior with the help of his new business partner Andrik, a shrewd arms buyer from the North. The machine's design featured three robust wheels and twin levers on either side.

"This machine," Micheal began, gesturing towards it, "will clear roads faster than any manual effort. Its blade is reinforced to cut through the densest snowdrifts, leaving a path safe for villagers and troops alike."

The gathered crowd murmured with skepticism. Weathered faces bore a mixture of doubt and curiosity.

A farmer, his patched cloak flapping in the breeze, muttered just loud enough, "What would a noble like him know about our troubles?"

Micheal's sharp blue eyes caught the farmer's. With a calm smile, he replied, "Your doubt is fair. But actions speak louder than words. Let me show you."

He nodded to two soldiers, who stepped forward at his signal. They positioned themselves at the levers, gripping them tightly.

Under Micheal's direction, they began pumping the levers in sync. The machine roared to life, its blade cutting cleanly through the packed snow. Gasps of astonishment rippled through the crowd as a pristine path emerged behind it.

"See?" Micheal said, stepping back, his voice steady yet commanding. "This isn't about adding to your burdens. It's about making your lives safer and your work more efficient. Snow-free roads are critical for emergency rescues, especially when danger strikes."

From the shadow of a partially collapsed barn, Magda Valoria von Shelb watched intently. She was bundled tightly in a thick cloak, only stray curls of her black hair visible beneath her hood.Her crimson eyes followed Micheal's every move with quiet curiosity.

The villagers' earlier doubts seemed to wane as Micheal moved confidently among them.

He showed soldiers and locals how to reinforce damaged structures using ice as a temporary solution. Even the skeptical soldiers offered begrudging nods of approval.

"He's… not bad at this," Magda murmured, her tone tinged with reluctant admiration.

For so long, Micheal had seemed like little more than an awkward, bumbling husband at home in the opulence of his workshop. But here, in an unfamiliar and harsh environment, he led with confidence and resourcefulness. The stark contrast unsettled her.

Calista Merren, standing nearby, caught her words and smirked. "Not bad?" she teased, her emerald eyes gleaming with mischief. "You're practically swooning, Your Highness. It's sweet, really… except for how it's feeding the rumors."

Magda's head snapped towards her retainer, alarm flashing in her crimson eyes. "Rumors?" she questioned, her voice sharper than intended.

Calista leaned in closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "Oh, you haven't heard? The capital's rife with tales of the country princess who dragged a dashing noble to the altar. They say you're more like siblings and that… well, your marriage might not last due to the new laws."

Magda's face tightened, her gaze shifting back to Micheal. She watched him mediate a heated dispute between a soldier and a villager, his calm authority diffusing tension. Memories of her past attempts to reach him surfaced unbidden—the times she had sought his affection and failed, leaving her feeling unseen.

And now, she was seeing a new side of him. Micheal was capable of earning respect, even under harsh conditions. He stood resilient, confident—a leader. She'd never seen him like this before, and it stirred something unfamiliar in her chest.

"They're wrong," Calista said softly, her teasing replaced with sincerity. "But since they are, only you can prove it."

Magda's gaze lingered on Micheal, her thoughts a tangle of doubt, admiration, and an unexpected determination to understand the man she had married.

The soldier, towering and broad-shouldered, was accusing the villager of hoarding supplies. The villager, his voice trembling with indignation, vehemently denied the claim.

"Enough," Micheal interrupted. His tone was firm but even, his presence commanding without being overbearing. He stepped between them with a raised hand. "If fairness is the concern, let's count the supplies together and allocate them as needed. Transparency benefits everyone."

The soldier hesitated before grunting an agreement. The villager nodded reluctantly, his anger giving way to cautious hope. The tension dissipated, and the murmurs of approval from the surrounding crowd signaled the shift in their perceptions. The Micheal here was no longer just a noble; he was a leader.

Magda's chest tightened as she observed him. This wasn't the bumbling noble from the rich Dukedom of Shelb she had married out of duty.

Here was a man capable of commanding respect and admiration. Yet, as she watched, Calista's earlier words echoed in her mind, sowing seeds of doubt and self-consciousness.

"They don't know me," Magda murmured to herself, her voice barely audible. "So they can speculate as they want."

Calista placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We know, Your Highness. They've always been mistaken about you."

Magda nodded absently, her gaze lingering on Micheal. A storm of emotions swirled within her—respect, admiration, and something deeper, something sharp and unfamiliar. Was it jealousy? Or perhaps it was the realization of how unattainable Micheal seemed, a figure she both longed for and struggled to reach.

Her thoughts drifted to the private research she had conducted in secret—a research she would never admit to anyone, not even Calista.

She had spent hours reading through fashion articles and advice columns in magazines targeted at noblewomen in secret, learning about how to subtly enhance one's natural beauty. She had discovered that her hourglass figure was considered highly desirable, yet it seemed to go unnoticed by Micheal.

Standing before a mirror in the privacy of her chambers, she had scrutinized herself, experimenting with gowns that cinched tightly around her waist to emphasize her curves and adjusting her posture to exude elegance. She had even attempted a few hairstyles suggested for captivating men, though she quickly abandoned them as impractical. Yet, despite her efforts, Micheal's reactions never changed.

He hugged her and kissed her like an elder brother might to his sister. At the Shelb estate, all of Micheal's brothers treated her with the same kindness and respect.

Micheal was simply a little more thoughtful, a little more attentive. She recalled Calista's teasing comment: "To Micheal, you might feel like a built-in playmate rather than a wife."

Ever since their marriage, no one had forced them to spend time together, and over the past year and a half, their relationship had grown into something akin to siblinghood.

Magda hated herself for harboring such thoughts about Micheal, a man who treated her with unwavering kindness. She didn't dare voice her feelings, fearing it would shatter the bond they had now.

Life had taught her to be content. Asking for more, she reasoned, was a path to ruin. In Featherfield, she had learned that all problems began when one reached beyond their station.

With a deep breath, Magda pushed these thoughts aside. She had come to the North to save people, not to dwell on her insecurities or her marriage. Resolute, she turned towards the Northern mage tower's laboratory. Her steps were brisk, and Calista trailed behind, watching her mistress with quiet concern.