The cold wind blew over the battered halls of the Verentis estate, the faint scent of blood and smoke still lingering after the brutal reclamation. Though the estate was now under their control, Achilles Verentis knew it was not over. This was merely a foothold—a beginning.
In the newly restored war chamber beneath the keep, torchlight flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows over the map laid out across the central war table. Red and black markers dotted the terrain: enemy strongholds, supply routes, territories now under Verentis control.
Achilles sat at the head, cloaked in a black mantle bearing his family's crest. Around him were his most trusted commanders—Kael, Captain Renar, and three other field executives, all survivors of the border wars. Their armor still bore the scars of battle.
"Still no word from Skotos?" Renar asked, arms folded.
Kael shook his head. "He's been gone for three days. That means he's either deep within the Marestel hold... or he's found something worth hiding."
Achilles said nothing at first. His cold gaze was locked on the red mark denoting the Marestel estate.
"He's alive," he finally said. "He would've sent word if compromised. He's waiting for the right moment."
They all fell silent for a beat.
"In the meantime," Achilles continued, "we prepare for two things—getting my sister back and retaking the mana stone mine."
One of the field captains leaned in. "About the mine... our scouts confirmed it. It's been heavily fortified by mercenaries. Marestel and their allies are siphoning the stones daily. It's being processed and shipped through southern trade routes."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "So they're not just holding your sister—they're bleeding our land for power."
Achilles nodded. "It explains everything. Why they imprisoned my parents, spread false rumors of our deaths, and fed the lie to the royal court. This mine is their golden goose."
"And they fear what we know," Renar added. "Especially the barrier technology you discovered. If word spreads that mana stones can fuel such magic with nature's mana, their power play ends."
Achilles tapped the edge of the map. "We need that mine. Not just for our duchy's revival. But to end their leverage."
One of the younger tacticians spoke up. "We've begun drawing up routes. There are three known entrances—two are guarded heavily, but a third underground tunnel may be possible. It was once an old smuggler's route. Forgotten by most."
"Good," Achilles said. "Keep working on it. We'll move once we get the signal from Skotos."
There was a knock.
A soldier entered, bowing. "My Lord. The prisoners have been moved to the lower cells. Duke Maren... he's asking for an audience again."
Achilles didn't look up. "Let him rot a while longer."
Renar smirked. "Still clinging to hope someone will save him."
Achilles's tone darkened. "I want him alive—for now. Once we get my sister back, he'll have no more value."
Kael leaned forward. "Do you think they'll actually bargain with us?"
"They will," Achilles said. "They know I won't stop. And they know I'm not above burning House Marestel to the ground."
He stood, pushing the chair back. His armor clinked softly with the motion.
"Send our ravens to the nearby counties. Rally our allies quietly. Anyone loyal to the old name of Verentis must be prepared to move. I don't want another House daring to strike while we're distracted."
Renar nodded. "And what of the King?"
Achilles's gaze turned icy. "The King will learn of this... in time. But by then, Valeriand will remember the name Verentis not as a fallen duchy—but as a house reborn through fire."
The room fell into a heavy silence, each commander gripping the weight of war soon to come.
Outside, the winds howled. War was on the horizon. But this time, Achilles was not defending a border.
This time, he was coming to take what was his.