Chapter 9: Secure Place

The construction site buzzed with activity.

Workers moved briskly, hauling stones, cutting wood, and setting the foundation of what would soon become a new sanctuary for the Awakened. Craftsmen shaped the beams, masons laid stone, and architects followed Arasha's precise instructions.

It was an unprecedented endeavor—a fully equipped district built for the Awakened and their families.

Arasha stood atop a scaffold, arms crossed, her keen gaze sweeping over the organized chaos below.

"You've accounted for food supply chains, I assume?" she asked.

A logistics officer beside her quickly nodded. "Yes, Commander. We've enlisted merchants and farmers willing to trade directly. Several grain merchants have pledged long-term contracts."

Arasha nodded, but her focus had already shifted.

"Education?"

"We've recruited teachers—volunteers from scholarly circles and former noble tutors. They will teach the Awakened literacy, mathematics, and history."

"And their combat training?"

Sir Garran, who stood nearby, awed. "You're unbelievable."

Arasha finally turned to face him, raising a brow. "Hmm?"

Sir Garran gestured toward the flourishing construction. "This—all of this—is beyond what I imagined. You didn't just secure the Awakened's rights; you're building them an entire society, Commander"

Arasha simply shrugged.

"They deserve stability," she said. "Most were commoners before their Awakening. Many have families that need shelter, food, and protection. I refuse to let them be treated like tools."

She pointed toward the designated residential areas—rows of stone houses with sturdy roofs and insulation against the cold. "Every Awakened family gets a proper home, not some makeshift barracks."

Then, she gestured to the training grounds—a walled-off section filled with open fields, sparring rings, and areas for those with magical gifts to safely practice.

"Their training isn't just about combat," Arasha continued. "We need to help them control their powers before the nobles start labeling them as threats."

Sir Garran observed the sheer scale of the operation, once again awed despite himself.

"This is just so incredible and unbelievable..." he muttered under his breath.

Arasha raised an eyebrow at him. "Something to say, Sir Garran?"

He honestly blurted out. "Just that, for someone the royals detest, you're proving to be a far better ruler than they ever will be, Commander."

Arasha scoffed. "Don't compare me to them."

Sir Garran flustered replied immediately. "I wasn't. I was implying that you're better, Commander."

She then ignored him and continued.

With a smile, Sir Garran also returned to work handling other miscellaneous logistics and matters about the Scion Order.

Security was still an immediate priority.

She had meticulously devised a defensive system—trained warriors patrolled the district's borders, while magic users placed barriers to prevent unauthorized entry.

But the biggest threat wasn't from the outside.

It was the conflict within.

The nobles had long separated commoners and highborns, and even among the Awakened, their former social status could lead to tensions.

Arasha anticipated this.

She implemented a strict hierarchy where only merit and loyalty mattered.

Ranks weren't given based on birth—but on skill, contribution, and leadership.

Some former noble Awakened had scoffed at the idea.

Until Arasha bested one of them in a sparring match and made an example out of him.

The message was clear—this was no noble's playground.

You earn your place.

****

Despite her efforts, whispers swirled through the city.

"Why do they get new homes?"

"They're dangerous. What if the rift changed their minds too?"

"We've lost homes too. Where's our sanctuary?"

Even among the common folk who once praised her, resentment began to brew—not out of hatred, but from desperation. The nobles, of course, twisted it further, fueling division from their estates.

That night Arasha, quickly decided to address the unrest before it festered— climbed atop a broken statue in the Market Square, flanked by a modest number of her Order. A large crowd gathered—curious, some angry, some simply hoping she'd offer more food or shelter.

She didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to.

Her words cut through the noise like steel drawn in silence.

"You think I've forgotten you."

The murmurs hushed. Eyes focused.

"You think I favor the Awakened because they received stone and steel before you. You think I see you as less. But you're wrong."

She stepped down from the statue, standing among them, dust clinging to her cloak.

"The Awakened didn't ask to change. They didn't seek power. They were caught in the same nightmare as you—but came out marked, feared, hunted. What I give them is not luxury. It's protection from the same hate many of you now feel."

She paused.

"But here is the truth you deserve to know: The Sanctuary is not for them alone."

She gestured toward the north.

"Everything I've built there—wards, food stores, reinforced homes—it's a prototype. The first of many. One that will protect all of us when the next breach comes."

The silence was thick now. Listening. Really listening.

"Help me build this right… and I promise, no one will be left behind. You will have a place. You will be safe. But not by tearing down those who already suffer. We rise together. Or not at all."

A few in the crowd lowered their heads. Others nod. Some remain wary—but the venom in the air dulled. Hope, like a fire starved ember, glowed again.

While the people began to understand, the nobles did not and even resented her further...

In the perfumed halls of House Alvarin, cloaked figures argued over wine and parchment. The topic: Arasha's new haven, and how it undermined their power and influence further.

Then unexpectedly the doors opened—and Arasha walks in, uninvited.

Her Order Knights held their position outside. She didn't need a blade here—her presence was enough.

"You should have sent your complaints through proper channels," she stated dryly. "But since you've gathered like snakes under silk, let me make things clear."

She threw down a bundle of signed labor logs, resource manifests, and construction blueprints—all stamped by her hand, with no noble signature to be found.

"I secured the architects. I protected the engineers. I stood watch over the Awakened while they rebuilt ruins with their bare hands. You were not there. You were drinking, scheming, or hiding."

Malren Vaelcrest stood, furious. "This favoritism of yours will divide the kingdom."

"You divided it long ago," she snapped. "I'm simply rebalancing the scale."

"And you think the people will follow you forever?" sneered Lady Virelle.

Arasha turned, already walking away. "No. But I'll keep earning their trust. You, however, have long since spent yours."

Arasha knew this wasn't the end of the nobles schemes to undermine her authority and to intervene in her plans, but she'd be ready to face whatever they throw at her.