"By decree of the Crown," he proclaimed, voice ringing off marble plinths, "and in gratitude of the realm, I name Count Lyan Arcanium Evocatore Guardian of the Eastern Crest: Grafen, Norhallow, Dunbridge, Valmere, and all unified lands therein!"
Thunderous applause shook leaves from the elms. Trumpets blared, drums rolled. Somewhere a vendor popped a cork; the spray misted in the warm air like brief summer rain.
Lyan blinked. He had anticipated the title; he had not expected Erich to list every border territory now considered his responsibility. Grafen alone was vast farmland and deep rivers; Norhallow boasted forests full of restless timber-spirits; Dunbridge was a maze of trade bridges and smuggling tunnels; Valmere claimed the salt flats. Four battalions, three distinct trade taxes, old disputes over fishing rights—he felt them stack like stones in his chest.
Erich leaned in, wearing a grin too wide for protocol. "You're basically a whole province now."
