Chapter 61: Chapter-61

“Days. Weeks. Depends on what keeps breaking,” Dimitri said grimly.

Elara ate her portion of bread and meat and observed her household. Exhausted. Frustrated. Overwhelmed by the scope of work required.

But no one had quit. No one had demanded to go back to the palace. They were complaining, but they were staying.

“Listen,” she said, and the conversations died down. “Tonight is going to be uncomfortable. We’re sleeping on floors. The plumbing barely works. The kitchen is non-functional. But tomorrow we start fixing things systematically. I’ll clean more rooms with magic. You’ll repair what can be repaired and list what needs replacement. We’ll establish routines for cooking, cleaning, security. It will get better. But tonight is just survival.”

“How inspiring,” the hawk knight muttered, but he was smiling slightly.

“I’m not here to inspire. I’m here to manage expectations.” Elara stood. “Get whatever sleep you can. Tomorrow we work.”

As people dispersed to their assigned rooms—most clutching bedrolls to sleep on bare floors—Elara went to her own room.

It was clean, at least. She’d done that much with magic. But it was empty except for one trunk of belongings and a bedroll on the wooden floor.

She lay down in the darkness and listened to the sounds of her household settling in. Muffled conversations through thin walls. Someone crying quietly—probably from exhaustion. The beast knights moving around as they organized their cramped shared space.

This was independence. This was what leaving the palace looked like.

A decrepit mansion with rats and leaks and broken plumbing. Thirty-two people sleeping on floors. No money for beds. No functioning kitchen.

No assassins in the hallways. No poisoned tea. No sisters plotting murder.

She’d survived the first day. Tomorrow would bring new problems.

But at least they were problems she could solve with work instead of politics.

She closed her eyes and calculated the next day’s priorities until exhaustion finally pulled her under.

First night in Port Crestfall: survived.

Barely.

.

.

The first hints of dawn crept through cracked windows, cold light spilling across hard wooden floors. Everyone woke up aching—backs sore from unforgiving boards, joints stiff from the winter chill that had snuck in overnight. Groans rippled through the halls as people stirred, rubbing eyes and stretching cramped limbs.

Then they stepped out of their rooms.

And froze.

The house looked… different. Not just clean. *Immaculate*. Hallways gleamed like polished marble. Every surface free of dust. No cobwebs draping corners. No bugs darting for cover. Floors swept smooth. Windows sparkling. The air even felt lighter, fresher somehow.

Mira padded into the hall in her nightshift, blinked hard, rubbed her eyes. “Wait. What the hell?”

Dimitri shuffled out behind her, hair wild, squinting at the pristine walls. “Someone… cleaned? All this?”

More doors creaked open. Sleepy faces emerged, all doing double-takes. Yesterday this place was a nightmare—dust thick as fog, bugs everywhere. Today? It looked like someone had waved a wand.

Petra ran a finger along a banister, came away spotless. “I didn’t hear a thing. Not a broom, not a bucket. Nothing.”

The beast knights were last out, and their reaction hit different—sharper, more on edge. Lyra emerged sword-half-drawn, eyes sweeping like she expected ambush. The others fanned behind her, postures coiled.

“This isn’t right,” Lyra muttered, voice low and tight.

Fox knight tilted his head, listening to nothing. “Full deep clean. Furniture dragged. Pipes running water. Hours of racket. We heard zilch.”

Mira frowned at them. “You guys were zonked out.”

Hawk knight let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “Zonked? We’re beast knights. Senses tuned sharper than hunting dogs. Wake to a sigh three doors down. Footstep in the next wing. Sword whisper across the hall. It’s bone-deep. We don’t sleep through housecleaning crews.”

Wolf knight clenched fists. “Someone tromped through here half the night. Scrubbing, banging pipes, flushing lines. We snored like babies.”

Lyra’s hand flexed on her hilt. “Either drugged or…”

“Silenced,” fox knight finished, eyes narrowing to slits.

Administrators exchanged uneasy glances. Knights radiated unease.

“Did any of you do this?” Mira asked, eyeing the men. “Clean up? Fix plumbing?”

Shrugs all around. Beast knights looked haunted.

“Dead to the world,” Marcus admitted.

Fox knight: “I pulled night watch two hours. Silence like a tomb. No alerts, no nothing.”

Lisa went white as fresh linen. “Her Highness?”

Fox knight was already moving, fast and silent, to Elara’s door. Swung it open. “Gone. Bed untouched.”

Tension spiked like drawn steel.

Front door hinges groaned.

Elara stepped through, arms loaded with tools—wrenches clanking softly, pipe sections, grimy cleaning rods. Simple shirt, sleeves shoved up to elbows showing dirt-smeared forearms. Fitted pants practical and mud-flecked. Hair damp at the temples like she’d just dunked her head, rest drying in messy waves.

“Your Highness!” Lisa bolted forward, voice cracking. “Where’ve you been? You okay?”

Elara eased the tools against the wall, brushed grime off palms. “Out back. Main plumbing line clogged solid. Rodents, leaves, years of junk. Cleared it.”

Lyra closed distance, gaze drilling. “House is spotless. Top to bottom. Didn’t hear a whisper.”

Hawk knight, incredulous: “Our ears? Legendary. Slept through what—stampede of maids? Pipe orchestra?”

Elara glanced up, calm as ever. “Silencing magic.”

Dead quiet. Like someone sucked air from the room.

“Silencing?” Fox knight echoed, barely audible.

“Yeah. Sound barriers around the sleeping areas. Swallowed all noise from the rest of the house. Let you crash properly.”

Knights recoiled—eyes widening, hands twitching toward weapons.

“You… blanketed beast knights,” Lyra said, words measured like loading a bow. “Drowned senses we’ve honed three hundred years. Silent as ghosts.”

“Needed doing,” Elara replied simply. “You were wrecked. Work couldn’t wait. Barriers fixed both.”

Hawk knight swallowed hard. “We were sitting ducks. Anything could’ve happened.”

Wolf knight stared at floors, voice rough: “Mage trick trumping our edge. Night-long shroud we never scented.”

Curtain ripped back. Full midday sun blasted in.

“Noon passed,” Petra breathed.

Fox knight: “How long those barriers up?”

“Midnight kickoff. Thirteen hours running. Low upkeep once set. Cleaning spells ate more juice. Pipes all hands.”

Dimitri gaped. “Held mage barriers on warrior elites. Mansion-wide spells. Dug pipes by hand. Thirteen hours straight?”

“Got the job done.”

Lyra scanned her knights—shockwaves hitting ranks—then locked on Elara, respect sharpening. “Princess, that suppression? War-mage territory. Slip past guards like smoke. You picked mops over murder.”

“Housekeeping made sense,” Elara said, shrugging grime off shoulders. “Keep you sharp. Get water flowing. Simple.”

The beast knights bit their lips, heads lowering in a ripple of deference. Tension hung thick, their silence heavy with unspoken words.

Elara paused, towel still in hand from drying her face. Even without hearing their thoughts, she sensed the weight in the air—the way they shifted, eyes flicking between each other. She turned fully, meeting their gazes.

“Is there something you want to say?” she asked, voice even.

They exchanged glances. Fox knight gritted his teeth, stepped forward. “Permission to speak freely, Your Highness?”

“Granted. Ask your questions.”

He bowed sharply, then straightened, eyes locked on hers. “I apologize if this comes out wrong, but… using silencing magic on us—it’s beyond concerning. Completely out of bounds.”

Elara’s expression cooled, a subtle shift that made the air feel heavier.

Fox knight pressed on, voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. “Silencing magic is forbidden in the palace. It blinds guards completely—no hearing footsteps, no cries for help. Thirteen hours, Your Highness. An assassin slips in, you scream—we hear nothing. You’re dead before we wake.”

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