Han Seoyeon had been in the fortress of Ximo Judian for a grand total of forty-seven minutes and she was already bored.  The place was big and made of stone (and freezing) and in the middle of absolutely bally nowhere, and she had figured out ten minutes into the tour the aged butler was giving her and her father around the fortress that she was going to have serious difficulty keeping herself entertained for the duration of the year her father was posted.  He had to do a good job — or, at least, a good enough one to get promoted within government and civic circles so that they could enjoy life back in the capital when they returned — but she was already worried he’d do such a good job he’d be assigned an extra year.

If that happened, to hell with being a minor and unable to inherit until she turned nineteen: she was going to run away.  She was already fairly tempted by the idea, though she’d promised her father she’d endure the year, and even to her it seemed poor to up and leave so soon after her mother had died.

So far, Seoyeon had managed to scrounge up three things that could be considered positive about Ximo.  One, her room was substantially bigger than the one she had at home.  Two, for the first time in her life, she had a personal maid assigned to her.  Three, as the daughter of the governor, she had authority.

The list of negatives was substantially longer and made Seoyeon depressed just thinking about them, but the worst by far was that there was nobody there who was her age and status.  She refused to cavort with anybody below her station, because that was egregiously against the social norms of high society, but it wasn’t like there was even anything to do anyway.  Ximo was so far away from the nearest town that supplies were sent out to it weekly — her father had proudly delegated the duty of checking through the supplies to her, which, as irritating and dull as it would be, would probably be the highlight of her week — and courier correspondence was only once a fortnight unless there was an emergency.  Seoyeon thought that one could be remedied, though: they just needed to invest in messenger hawks.

She gazed listlessly out of the window at the setting sun.  They were on the fourth floor, and she had long since lost interest in what the butler was saying as he discussed the rooms with her father.  She wasn’t even totally sure what kind of room they were in, and nor did she care.  The only ones that were of any real importance to her were her own one and her father’s private suite, and their private dining room.  Perhaps the kitchen if the food wasn’t up to much and she needed to eat the raw ingredients rather than whatever got slapped on her plate, or if it was so good that it required her presence at all times to sample the dishes.  Under normal circumstances, she would have included the reception hall and the guest suites, but Ximo was so far out of the way she doubted anybody would bother to visit, even the people in government who wanted to know whether or not her father was doing a good job.

The borderlands expanded below her towards the horizon, which the sun was just beginning to dip behind.  The land was mostly arid, and the red glow of the sun almost made it look like it was on fire.  Stunted, blackened trees and bushes pocketed various areas.  There was a solitary watchtower in the distance, and she could just make out an ant-like column of men trailing back from it and towards the fortress.  The guard there must have already changed over.

Seoyeon really didn’t get the point of maintaining a fortress in the borderlands.  There had been absolutely no threat, plausible or imagined, since the end of the Border Wars, when the empire had razed and salted the enemy lands nearly a century ago.  There was nothing to see, nothing to do, nothing to fight — nothing to protect against — and it was also an unnecessary expense.  She knew her father wanted to streamline the funds and make the fortress more cost-efficient, but she didn’t see why it wasn’t just closed down altogether.

Her father’s voice drew her attention again as the sun dipped halfway below the horizon.

“…Hoping to find Seoyeon a governess or tutor so she’s able to maintain her excellent standards, but it looks like that might be rather difficult.”

Seoyeon turned away from the window, and had to squint at how dark it was indoors compared to the sunset.  The idea of a tutor was almost appealing.  Then again, she supposed study would be one way to while away the time, and it would require somebody with an acceptable social status to mix with, and that was not something to be sniffed at.

A couple of minutes later, they headed back down to the ground floor.  Her father was already discussing what areas they could hope to save money with the butler, and she trailed behind them, uninterested in the conversation.  The butler mentioned the wine cellars to her father, at which point Seoyeon bailed and remained in the kitchen, since her father was something of an aspiring wine connoisseur and she had no desire for a two-hour lecture on the best barrel ageing process for fermented fruit juice.

The kitchen was ruled by a quiet man called Kim Minseok, who seemed to value the silence of his underlings almost as much as Seoyeon did, and she decided it was possibly a place she might grow to like.  Installing herself in a quiet corner, she opened the book she’d been reading during the carriage journey to the fortress that day and began to read where she’d left off, feet absently extended in the direction of the nearest oven for warmth.

K