As the sun slowly rose, I called together the few remaining officials and elder scholars in Langley—or whoever was left.
There was a former academy teacher, now managing how food was shared.
An old engineer with broken glasses and fingers bent from age.
And a quiet clerk who used to handle research budgets, now responsible for keeping track of grain sacks.
They came slowly, like they were drawn by curiosity instead of an order, as if they couldn't quite believe someone wanted to discuss *the Atrium of Steam and Aether* again.
I welcomed them as equals in rebuilding, asking not about what they had lost, but what was still present.
And they responded.
The academy's workshops were still under the northern hill, partly buried after a mining-related collapse. Many steam pipes and energy vents had rusted from neglect. The machines were idle. The old forge hadn't been lit in over ten years.
But the blueprints and main research? Much of it was stored in vaults beneath the archive, protected by locks that opened with aura signatures. Though simple by today's standards, they remained effective.
I spoke to each person—taking detailed notes, drawing maps, sketches, and listening to rumors about former students now in far-off places.
Amidst the confusion, patterns started to appear.
The Atrium hadn't fallen apart just from corruption. It had been drained—its resources diverted to private mansions, personal armories, and unnecessary luxuries for the nobility. Entire aura-supply systems had been dismantled and sold as scrap.
Yet, bringing everything back would be extremely costly.
Even if I reduced the restoration plan significantly, connecting only the essential buildings, and hired a small staff for basic research—it would nearly deplete all my funds.
But I stayed firm.
I looked deeper into the numbers. I made things simpler and more efficient.
Then—just before dusk—I felt that moment of clarity, when everything aligns.
I realized I didn't need to restore the whole academy at once.
I simply needed to bring it back to life sufficiently to show its worth.
The Atrium once powered all of Langley's research with many aura conduits. With today's technology, at a much lower cost, I could redirect the main flow using compressed aura coils and reflective crystal piping—a strategy I had seen in Cromwell documents but never tested.
It was riskier, less stable, but only cost a third of the original estimate.
And here, taking risks wasn't optional—it was necessary.
That evening, I presented the plan to Lord Elias Langley in the manor's war room.
He reviewed the paper quietly—his eyes absorbing the numbers, diagrams, and suggested routes.
"You're serious?" he asked. "This is your plan?"
"Yes," I confirmed.
"The aura coils alone—do you understand how risky they are if mishandled?"
"I do."
"And those crystal pipes? They weren't designed for something this large."
"I know."
He looked at me, searching for doubt, hesitation, or fear.
I showed none.
Slowly, he leaned back, arms crossed. "You worked this out in a single day."
"I didn't come here to rest."
"It'll still cost more than what most nobles would gamble on something broken."
I allowed a small smile. "Do you really think I care about what most nobles would risk?"
Elias studied me, his forehead wrinkled. "You don't even react to the risks. Is there anything that worries you?"
I paused, letting his words linger.
Then I spoke plainly, with no pride or bravado—only truth.
"This means nothing to me."
Confusion crossed his face instead of disbelief.
"I've lost everything," I continued. "My title, my name, even my identity. What remains is mine to protect, and I won't waste it. I may not be a princess anymore, but I am still a leader."
He turned away, his gaze landing on a corner of the room.
"But…" I added, my voice firm again, "my resources are limited. This must succeed. If it fails, there's nothing left for another attempt."
Elias was silent for a long time.
Finally, he said, "I'll have my people check the vault tomorrow. If your plan holds up, we'll proceed."
We. That word caught me by surprise.
That night, as stars gathered quietly above the duchy, I stood at my window, the plan still in my hands.
I didn't know if Langley could be saved.
But I knew how to begin.
With knowledge. With risk. With purpose.