The Iron Revolution Chapter 8: Someone Else’s House

Chapter 8: Soone Else’s House

Eadric had moved from the ceremony of assumption to the dispatch tiline to the accounts, and his voice had the steady quality of a man with a long list and no expectation that anyone would interrupt it.

Beorn looked up from the ledger. The numbers in front of him ford a pattern, but not one he trusted yet.

"Where am I sleeping tonight."

Eadric paused, just long enough to adjust. "The primary chambers are in the east wing, my lord. It’s the appropriate location. I can have them prepared by this evening."

Beorn considered that. If the room needed preparation, then it wasn’t currently usable. That raised a question.

"What does prepared an."

"The chambers haven’t seen regular use," Eadric said. His hands stayed still, "They need attention before they’re suitable. Fresh linens. Air circulation. The hearth needs to be checked and made functional."

So not maintained. Possibly neglected.

Beorn kept his eyes on the page, though he wasn’t reading it. "How long since anyone stayed there."

Eadric’s answer ca with formality, but not precision. "The previous representative chose to operate from the city, my lord."

That avoided the present tiline.

"And the one before that."

"Also based in the city."

Beorn set the quill down. That was interesting information. The wing hadn’t been actively used in quite so ti.

"So the last ti anyone actually lived in the east wing."

A brief delay. Eadric’s face changed slightly in the candlelight, softened but not enough to hide his thoughts. "I’d need to consult the records for an exact date, my lord."

"Roughly."

Eadric committed, but minimally. "Several years."

That was long enough for bureaucracy to fail. Long enough for problems to fester.

Neither of them filled the silence that followed.

Beorn picked the quill back up. He reviewed what he’d written, added a line, then paused. Aestrith hadn’t moved from the window. Either she saw sothing outside, or she wanted it to look that way. The light had changed while they spoke. Evening had flattened into a dull grey.

"Security," Beorn said. "Inside these walls. Who handles it."

Eadric settled back, as if returning to familiar ground. "There’s a post at the outer gate, as you saw. Day-to-day security falls to the city garrison, my lord."

Beorn held his gaze on him. "The garrison I walked through this afternoon."

Sothing appeared across Eadric’s expression, then disappeared before it fully ford. "They’ve had so difficulties with staffing and command continuity. I won’t deny that. But the arrangent has been adequate for the citadel’s needs."

Beorn tracked that carefully. Adequate depended on what had been required.

"What needs."

Eadric blinked once. "I’m sorry?"

Beorn clarified. "What situations have required the garrison to respond inside this seat."

Eadric started to answer, then stopped. A reset. The ease returned, but it lagged behind the mont. "There hasn’t been cause for that, my lord. The citadel functions as an administrative center."

"Right." Beorn turned a page. The paper was old, and the sound carried farther than it should have in the silence. "So the security hasn’t been tested."

"The territory hasn’t required it."

Which ant no proof it would work under a dangerous situation.

"How many people are actually employed here."

The question landed before Eadric could prepare for it. He heard it, processed it, but didn’t react outwardly. "There are individuals maintaining operations," he said. "Household staff, attendants, an archivist."

Not a number.

"How many."

Eadric paused again. This ti the delay was different. Less rehearsed. "The arrangents vary, my lord. So are formally employed. Others less so."

That introduced a second problem.

"What does less so an."

"So roles are shared with other functions." Eadric shifted slightly in his chair. "The cook also serves the administrative offices. The senior attendant oversees multiple sections. So here, so in other households."

Beorn raised his eyes. "So they work here part ti."

"They work here as needed."

Unfixed schedules. Dubious loyalty. No clear chain of control.

"Who do they report to."

The longest pause yet. The room’s background details sharpened while Beorn waited. The candle gave off a faint sll of heated wax, sothing that had been there the entire ti but only now registered.

"To my office," Eadric said finally. "Primarily. For daily matters."

Primarily wasn’t absolute.

Beorn closed the ledger across his knee. He didn’t open it again. The problem had changed from accounts to organization.

Now he could hear it. The building itself. The silence in the corridor. The deeper silence beyond it. Too much empty space. The kind of place where movent would carry, and absence would too.

"How many people in this seat right now," Beorn said, "know who I am and who they report to."

A short silence. Beorn looked directly at Eadric.

"I’ll compile a full account," Eadric said. "Everyone present, with their roles and terms. You’ll have a complete picture."

That was the correct response. But the timing mattered.

"Tonight."

Eadric’s hands separated slightly on the desk. A small loss of control. "My lord, it’s already late."

"Tonight," Beorn repeated. "I want a list of everyone currently in this building. With their na, function and whether they were here yesterday."

Eadric adjusted to the demand. "Yes, my lord." His voice held steady. "Is there a specific concern?"

Beorn identified it clearly. "I’m sleeping in a building I don’t understand, with people who don’t formally answer to , working on arrangents with other households, under a security that hasn’t been tested." He put the quill down. "That’s the concern."

Eadric didn’t respond.

"After the inventory, we restructure," Beorn said. The sequence ford as he spoke. "Everyone here answers to . Anyone with obligations elsewhere works elsewhere. Anyone inside these walls after dark is here for a reason I know."

He t Eadric’s eyes. "We start there. The building cos first."

Eadric absorbed that. He went completely still, as if evaluating constraints and outcos.

"Of course, my lord," he said. The words were precise.

Aestrith turned from the window toward the door. A knock followed imdiately. Short. Sharp.

Eadric turned toward it. Beorn kept his focus on the page, but tracked the sequence.

The door opened without waiting.

Two n entered first. They positioned themselves just inside, facing back toward the corridor in a guard posture.

A third man followed between them.

Beorn assessed him quickly. Well dressed. High-quality fabric. Proper fit. Nothing exaggerated. That suggested confidence without display.

The man looked to Eadric first. A quick check. Eadric’s hands moved once, then stilled.

Then the man’s attention moved to Beorn. He held that gaze.

Finally, his eyes moved over to Aestrith at the window.

They stayed there longer.