*** Snowkeep - Central Plaza ***

The morning broke cold and white over Snowkeep. Frost still clung to the rooftops, the air sharp enough to sting one's breath.

Usually, mornings in the capital were quiet, only the clatter of carts, the low murmur of markets, and the steady march of the city guards.

But today, the streets were loud.

Hundreds of people crowded the main plaza, forming lines that snaked between the frozen fountains and the old stone steps. Scribes stood behind makeshift tables, their ink freezing faster than they could write.

Soldiers barked orders, struggling to keep the lines from collapsing.

"Next! State your name, household count, and trade!"

A grizzled old man muttered, "Census, huh? Haven't had one since the famine."

"Because last time half the scribes froze before finishing," another replied bitterly.

Still, they stayed in line. Fear of the duke's name and curiosity kept them obedient. To all, he was godlike, but at the same time, they had doubts; he had been benevolent, but what if it suddenly changed?

From above, on the city hall balcony, Justinian watched the entire process unfold.

A city hall that was empty for months is now starting to be used again, as Justinian ordered its reopening, bringing back all the old scribes who had abandoned their posts to return to their jobs for higher pay.

He leaned on the railing, arms crossed, eyes following the ebb and flow of the crowd below.

"This is... more chaotic than I expected," he muttered.

Darius stood beside him, clutching a leather-bound ledger, his breath fogging the air. "Day one of anything new is chaos, my lord. I'm honestly surprised it's going this well."

Justinian glanced sideways at him. "I'll take your word for it."

The banners of House Thirell draped from every visible surface, crimson and silver catching the sunlight like frozen blood. Below them, people whispered his name as if he might hear them from above.

"They're scared," Darius said quietly. "Half of them think this is a prelude to new taxes."

"They're not entirely wrong," Justinian replied with a small smirk. "But that's not the purpose. I want to know how alive this duchy actually is."

Darius tilted his head. "Alive, my lord?"

"I know how many soldiers I have. How many forts I can man. But not how many children were born this year, or how many widows still wait for a husband who'll never return."

Justinian referred to his system, which had been upgraded for a while now, but it was still lacking, and he needed to make up for it using his own resources.

His tone was calm, but his words carried a weight that made Darius straighten unconsciously.

Justinian's gaze followed a young woman at the far end of the line, clutching a small child to her chest. The scribe beside her was patient, but she looked terrified of every question.

'They don't even know if the duke they serve still sees them as people or numbers, I guess that's the price of divinity,' he thought grimly.

"Have our guards assist the scribes," Justinian ordered. "And make sure the priests stop scaring people by standing there like vultures."

The priests had already arrived a week prior, each one shocked and insulted by the news of Justinian proclaiming himself as an Arcanist; he now had another problem to deal with.

But it wasn't a main priority; he still had ties with the Holy Patriarch, and as long as he did, the priests who hated his rule couldn't openly disobey him.

"Yes, my lord." Darius turned and barked the orders. Within moments, the atmosphere began to shift slightly.

The census would take days, maybe weeks, but Justinian had already decided this would be the foundation for what came next.

'You can't fix what you don't understand,' he reminded himself.

*** Snowkeep - City Hall, Afternoon ***

The hall smelled of parchment, wax, and damp leather.

Dozens of clerks sat hunched over tables, copying and sorting records as quickly as their cramped hands allowed. Stacks of paper rose like miniature towers between them.

Justinian stood in the center, coat unbuttoned, looking through a stack of early reports.

"Two thousand citizens recorded in the first half-day," Darius reported, dragging another crate of documents. "And that's just three districts."

"Three?" Justinian frowned. "What's the delay?"

"Some households refused to speak. A few still believe the census is a test of loyalty; the priests have been whispering nonsense again."

Justinian sighed through his nose. "Wonderful."

He set the parchment down and leaned against the edge of the table. "Have Matthias send a notice to the clergy. I don't want to hear a single sermon about false tithes or heresy in the next month."

Darius hesitated. "Wouldn't that anger the temple?"

"I'd be surprised if it didn't, have Lucan handle the outrage if things get violent."

A few clerks looked up from their work, exchanging nervous glances at the duke's blunt tone. Justinian noticed, and his lips twitched upward.

"Relax. I'm not going to declare war on the church, I'm blessed by the same gods they worship, after all."

That broke the tension; faint laughter rippled through the room.

He liked that. It reminded him that his people still could laugh, a sound that they had barely remembered coming out of his mouth, as Justinian was too busy with other business to mingle with his citizens.

Darius rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a grin. "You'll have your cult and the church kill each other at this rate."

"That's quite a dark joke... never expected it to come out of your mouth."

"You're right... I guess you're starting to rub off on me again."

The humor faded as quickly as it came, replaced by the sound of quills scratching against parchment. Justinian walked toward the window, staring down at the plaza once more.

From here, the streets looked alive again, not perfect, not thriving, but moving.

"You were right," Darius said quietly from behind him. "It's chaos. But it's a start."

Justinian gave a slow nod. "And starts are what kingdoms are built on."

He turned back, voice calm but firm. "Continue the tally through nightfall. Feed the scribes, rotate the guards, and keep the reports coming every four hours. I'll be in the archives reviewing old census data."

Darius blinked. "Old records? Those haven't been touched since—"

"Since the famine," Justinian finished. "I want to know how far we've fallen before I try to make us rise again."

Darius lowered his head in understanding, then turned to bark more orders.

As Justinian left the room, the murmur of activity behind him only grew louder, the sound of quills, voices, and footsteps, the quiet heartbeat of a duchy rediscovering its pulse.

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