Chapter 24: The 21st Century’s Drone

"Miss Evelyn? Hold on, Sister, I’ll open the door for you."

She jumped up eagerly to open the door. Lucy and Miss Evelyn were more than just friends, and for Miss Evelyn to visit today was sufficient to make Lucy’s heart flutter with excitement.

The door opened a moment later, and in its doorway stood a young lady who was so beautiful she could almost take one’s breath away. If Lucy’s charm was the friendly, warm girl-next-door type, then Miss Evelyn’s was the exquisite elegance of a lady born to nobility. Her almond eyes, finely arched brows, and eyes as bright as starlight were enhanced by a single red dot on her forehead. She had on a flowing pale violet gown, the material rippling like mist about her as she stood and moved with poised and balanced grace, like a willowing branch in a breeze. There was an effortless nobility to her every movement.

Alex had observed a great number of beautiful women before, but this woman’s cultivated elegance was something different the kind of refinement that takes years of training and discipline and can never be imitated.

"Hehe, Sister Evelyn, why are you free to come visit me today?" Lucy inquired warmly, rushing forward to grab her friend’s hand.

"Nothing urgent was going on at the mansion, and I had a day off, so I thought I’d drop by and see you," Miss Evelyn said, her voice illuminating the courtyard like sunshine bursting through the clouds.

But as her eyes landed on Alex, there was a quick flash of interest. "And who is this?"

"He is Brother Alex," Lucy replied with pride. "He’s the one who sold us water and saved Father’s life truly our family savior."

She told her at once about the recent happenings, speaking with expressive gestures. "And see, this is a drawing he made. Father assures me he did it in less than a half hour, all with charcoal. Isn’t it beautiful?"

"Ah? May I see it?" asked Miss Evelyn, taking the portrait from her. Her eyes brightened as she looked at it. "Astounding. I’ve never seen a style like this one. The lines are straight and each stroke is intentional, without any waste whatever."

Her voice was clean and sweet, like a bird after rain.

"Where is Mr. Alex from?" she finally asked, intrigued not only by his talent but by the unusual design of his clothes.

"Ohh, please don’t give me such lavish praise," Alex said with a futile smile, throwing up his hands as if to deflect the praise. "It was just a careless sketch for amusement. And. I’m from very far away... let’s say the southern provinces."

Another compliment for something he’d done on impulse — even with thick skin of his, Alex was beginning to feel a bit ashamed.

"Mr. Alex looks down-to-earth and unarrogant for all his talent," Miss Evelyn said, a hint of contempt creeping into her voice. "That’s more than I can say for the supposed gifted men of Ironhold, who are drowned out by their own pride."

Alex hadn’t anticipated so frank impression from a woman of her status.

From Mr. Hartwell, he’d already discovered that in this world, the worth of literary talent was far greater than military power. Poetic writing could attract praise and gain him admission to the best circles, while being successful in the imperial examinations could lead a man into the ranks of the higher hierarchy.

But Miss Evelyn had been correct about one thing — he wasn’t a trifling scholar. He was a 21st-century idealist who lived and died by his own creed.

"Agreed, Ironhold may be a tiny and isolated corner of the empire, Alex said, "but it somehow continues to be a place that fosters ambition and talent."

Miss Evelyn nodded her head very slightly, a small smile playing about her lips. "Yes. but sometimes ambition, in the wrong hands, turns to arrogance. That is the empire’s dilemma and perhaps, its threat."

Her words hung in the air, reflective and tinged with deep meaning, and Alex caught himself wanting suddenly to hear more of what she had to say.

Miss Evelyn’s voice took on a sharp, purposeful edge. Since the empire was founded, our kings have valued literary talent over military might, honoring poetry. That is commendable during a time of peace. But now, with the empire threatened and invaders from the north are at our gates, such indulgence is a luxury we can not afford."

The armies stumble, cities fall with scarce resistance, but the so-called ’scholars’ continue to write verses while the country faced perils.

Bandits even stole relief grains that was for the starving people in Ironhold, and the local administration watched, helpless. Families are forced out... people die.

Her usually serene face furrowed, her cheeks flushing with anger, as she spoke.

Alex, having conversed with Mr. Hartwell about the state of the empire, already had an idea of the way things were going. From its far-off capital, the court governed a land that was decaying from the peripheral rampages.

The armies of the north had rampaged across border fortresses like a hurricane, taking cities near enough without a fight. It wasn’t until their supplies were running low that they had retreated, rebuilding and planning for a greater blow — one that will target the heart of the empire directly.

If Alex had to sum it up, the empire’s military was about as fearsome as a pop idol in a music video — all show, no fight.

Even a ragged gang of mountain thieves could steal Ironhold’s relief grain and vanish without consequences.

"To strengthen a nation, one must value both good governance and real military power," Miss Evelyn finished firmly.

Alex was amused. He’d thought she was a polished lady of some rich family, but her grasp of the larger issue was sharp and unrelenting.

"Enough for now," she said, her voice relaxing. "Ironhold’s immediate need is to take care of the Mangshan bandits and retrieve the stolen relief grain. Mr. Alex, do you have any suggestions?"

From Lucy’s accounts, Miss Evelyn already had an idea that Alex was very capable, handy, unlike anyone else in Ironhold. After meeting him even briefly, she could tell there was honesty and stability behind his careless air. That was all she needed to take the chance of asking for his assistance.

Ironhold had suffered three years of famine. The economy was dying, the people growing thin, and if current trends held, the city could easily turn into a vacant husk.

Mr. Hartwell remained silent, his eyes simply observing with the canny serenity of an aged fox. He understood that Miss Evelyn was from a influential family, and her interest in Alex was not superficial.

Wide-eyed and still, Lucy watched them both. She seldom saw Miss Evelyn talk at length to a man particularly with so much importance. Obviously, she respected Alex very much.

"But could he really deal with a bandit forces ?"

Alex smiled beneath their eager looks. "Me? Handle a whole gang of bandits alone? That’s expecting a bit too much from me."

Miss Evelyn’s face fell in disappointment.

Before she could answer, Alex continued, "But. locating where they are? That, I can manage. Disposing of them afterwards — well, that’s up to the government."

Alex learned from Mr. Hartwell that the Mangshan bandits understood the landscape better than anyone. The turnings of the gullies and boulder-strewn passes made pursuit almost impossible. Following their trails is also impossible, as they even scattered sulfur to confuse local police dogs, and then disappeared completely.

For the locals, finding them was nearly impossible. But for Alex? Child’s play. A single drone with an infrared thermal imager could sweep Mangshan’s ridges and spot their camp in minutes.

"Truly? You have a way to locate them?" Miss Evelyn’s eyes lit up with a mix of relief and surprise.

Alex grinned. "Yes. But tell me why should I help for free? I’m a businessman, not a charity."

He wasn’t one to risk his neck for no reason. Furthermore, he had intentions to sell grain in the near future, and if the government reclaimed the looted provisions before that, it could cut into his future profits.

Miss Evelyn pondered, then looked at him squarely. "If you can identify their lair, I will make you a deal you won’t want to turn down."

"What sort of deal?" Alex asked.

"I’ve heard Lucy tell me that you’ve been selling water in the black market. It’s good water, fresh and clean, but you’re treading on the wrong toes. In a few days—"

The slamming of the front door interrupted her.

Nathan and Sam staggered in, half-holding Rory and Tommy, who were bruised, battered, and barely standing.

Nathan’s words were strained with anger. "Brother Alex, we were attacked !"

"The Axe Gang," Sam cursed, "they spotted our water outselling theirs. They came with more than twenty men strong, they wrecked the stall, and threatened that if we dare to sell again, they’ll beat us again!"

"They’ve crossed the line!" Nathan snarled, his fists already clenched.