The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate-Chapter 138: Tiberon Got His Ass Audited

Three days became seven.

Serena and Elara cleared the table. And every time they finished, Tiberon brought more.

Serena went through every ledger from the past fiscal year. She cross-referenced tax receipts with census data and flagged twelve discrepancies that had gone unnoticed for months.

Tiberon returned with the farmer’s almanac for the entire kingdom. All seven regions. Going back three years.

On the fourth day, she completed a full audit of the castle’s candle inventory.

He returned with the architectural survey of every staircase in Drakenfell.

On the fifth day, Serena reviewed the annual chimney inspection reports.

Tiberon returned with the complete minutes from every council meeting for the past decade and a thirty-year analysis of the royal kitchens’ spice consumption, organized by season and occasion.

On the sixth day, she catalogued the royal wine cellar’s inventory. She reviewed the linen rotation schedule, and analyzed the historical rainfall patterns for the Thornwood region.

Every time Tiberon entered the room, Serena and Elara asked the same question.

"Any word?"

And every time, Tiberon gave the same answer.

"Not yet."

On the seventh day, Tiberon entered the war room with Bellatrix at his side.

The table was empty. Every pile had been completed, organized, and stacked neatly along the wall for distribution.

Serena and Elara sat in their usual chairs, waiting.

Tiberon stopped in the center of the room and studied the cleared table. Then he studied the two women who had cleared it.

"The northern garrison supply reserves," he said without preamble.

"Sufficient for eight weeks at current consumption," Serena answered. "Nine weeks if we implement the rationing protocol. Outlined in my recommendations."

Tiberon’s eye twitched.

"The chimney inspection reports."

"The east wing draft problem originates from a structural crack in the third-floor flue that was improperly patched during the renovation eight years ago. Full repair will cost approximately three hundred marks. Continued patching will cost more over time and presents a fire risk."

"The rainfall correlation analysis." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

"Thornwood grain yields decrease by approximately twelve percent for every inch of rainfall below the seasonal average. The past three years have been below average, which explains the increased reliance on imported grain and the corresponding price increases."

The room was silent. Bellatrix stared at her. Elara was trying very hard not to snort.

Tiberon pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a slow breath.

"The candle inventory," he said, and there was a note of desperation in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

"Four thousand, two hundred and seventeen tapers. Eight hundred and ninety-three beeswax pillars. Three hundred and twelve emergency torches. The east wing uses approximately twenty percent more candles than the other wings due to fewer windows. In the long term, I recommend installing additional skylights in the interior corridors to reduce consumption."

Tiberon closed his eyes.

Bellatrix made a sound that might have been a laugh, quickly suppressed.

"The wine cellar," Tiberon tried.

"Six hundred and forty-two bottles of red, four hundred and eighteen bottles of white, two hundred and three bottles of sparkling, and one very old bottle of Nightspire’s favorite brand of whiskey that I suspect was a gift from him because it’s been untouched for twelve years."

Tiberon opened his eyes.

He looked at Bellatrix.

Bellatrix looked back at him with an expression that clearly said, I told you this wouldn’t work.

Tiberon turned back to Serena.

"Any word?" Serena asked before he could speak.

His jaw tightened. "Not yet."

"Then we’ll need more work to do," Elara said sweetly.

He pinched the bridge of his nose again. He held the pose for a long moment, breathing slowly, like a man trying very hard not to say something he would regret.

"I’ve run out of paperwork." He said it like a confession. "In thirty years of ruling, I have never run out of paperwork. I didn’t know it was possible."

He shook his head.

"Training with the warriors then," he finally said.

Serena straightened in her chair. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Don’t thank me." Tiberon gave her a pointed look. "When Dexmon and Hale ask why their mates are covered in bruises, I am blaming both of you."

"We accept full responsibility," Elara said, and she didn’t bother hiding her smile this time.

Tiberon shook his head and walked toward the door, Bellatrix behind him.

Elara turned to Serena with a grin. "Did we just win?"

"I think we exhausted him into surrender." Serena stood and stretched. "Training with the warriors. That’s actually useful."

✦✦✦

When she and Elara arrived at the training field that day, every member of the Draken Forces turned to face them.

And then they bowed.

All of them. In unison. Two hundred warriors dropping to one knee with their fists pressed to their chests.

Serena’s breath caught.

When would she get used to that?

"Thank you," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "You honor me."

The bows were short-lived.

"On your feet," Captain Bastian Halvek barked. "The princess and Beta Luna want to train with the Draken Forces. That means they train like the Draken Forces. No special treatment. No coddling. No complaints."

He paused, letting that sink in.

"Am I understood?"

"Yes, Captain," Serena and Elara said together.

He pointed to the field. "Five laps. No shifting."

They started running.

"Did they forget you are a prodigy who does Truebond Veils and took out battalions of enemy dragons?" Elara murmured. "And that you can’t shift."

"Thanks, but I know I broke protocols. King Tiberon didn’t seem very happy with me after both times," Serena answered with a sigh.

Elara snorted. "He’s a hard one to please."

"At least we’re going to be with our dragons."

She was wrong.

Five laps didn’t sound terrible until they realized each lap was over five miles. Elara was gasping beside her, her face red and sweat-soaked.

Serena could have run at alpha speed, but she stayed with Elara. So she finished last with her.

Dead last.

The warriors who had finished ahead of them were already doing pushups by the time Serena and Elara stumbled across the line.

"Pathetic," Halvek said. "Again tomorrow. Faster."

The second day was worse.

They ran the laps again. They finished last again.

Serena decided not to bother with alpha speed. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

The warriors paired off and sparred with wooden practice swords.

Serena ended up on her back in the dirt fourteen times in twenty minutes.

Elara fared no better. Her opponent was a lean man named Daven who seemed to anticipate her every move before she made it. He put her on the ground so many times that Elara eventually just stayed there, staring at the sky.

"This is fine," Elara said flatly. "I live here now."

"Get up," Halvek barked. "Again."

They got up.

They went again.

✦✦✦

Serena sat up in bed with yet another nightmare she would keep to herself. Her arm reached for Dexmon automatically, and found nothing. Just cold sheets and an ache that kept growing.

She and Elara worried about all of them, but neither could get a word out of Halvek or Tiberon. Alaric had vanished entirely. At this point, the man should write a book because the two smartest she-wolves in Drakenfell couldn’t figure out where he went.

On the third day of training, Halvek marched them past the sparring ring and straight to the obstacle course.

"No magic," he ordered.

There were walls to climb, trenches to crawl through, ropes to swing across, and at the very end, a fifty-foot vertical pole that had to be scaled to ring the bell at the top.

The warriors made it look easy. They scrambled up walls like spiders, flew across ropes like they had wings, and climbed that pole in seconds with their arms and legs working in perfect coordination.

Serena made it over the first wall by sheer stubbornness. She army-crawled through the trench and emerged covered in mud. She swung across the ropes and only fell into the water pit twice. It was fun. She fought the urge to smile.

Then she reached the pole.

She stared up at it. Fifty feet of smooth wood with no handholds, no footholds, and nothing to grip except the pole itself. No magic.

She tried to climb it the way the warriors did, wrapping her arms and legs around it and inching upward.

She made it three feet before sliding back down.

She tried again. Five feet. Her arms screamed in protest. Back down.

"That’s stupid," she commented. "This is stupid."

Elara tried beside her and fared even worse. She couldn’t get more than two feet off the ground before gravity claimed her.

"Impossible," Elara panted, glaring at the pole like it had personally offended her.

The warriors watched them struggle. Some looked amused. Others looked bored. None of them offered help.

Serena stared at the pole.

Even with Alpha venom, she couldn’t match the warriors’ strength. She knew that.

She looked around the training field and studied the layout. The pole stood at the edge of a small ridge with a storage shed nearby. The shed had a slanted roof that reached maybe fifteen feet high.

Serena walked to the shed.

"What are you doing?" Elara called after her.

Serena didn’t answer. She found a rope coiled near the equipment rack. She tied a weight to one end, creating a makeshift grappling line.

She walked back to the pole, took aim, and threw.

The weight sailed upward, arced over the crossbeam, and dropped down the other side. Serena caught it, pulled the rope taut, and began to climb.

Foot by foot, she hauled herself up the rope until she reached the crossbeam. From there, she pulled herself onto the frame and rang the bell.

The sound echoed across the training field.

The warriors stared.