The throne room had long since emptied.
The golden crown still gleamed atop Queen Celene's brow as she stood before the council table, parchment and appointment scrolls spread before her like a battlefield.
"This kingdom," she said softly, "needs structure, not just spirit."
She looked to Theo, who lounged with one arm draped over the velvet chair, a glass of fine northern wine in his hand, the fire of Vaelstrom flickering just outside the stained-glass window.
"Theodric of Aldercrest," she said with a formal tone, "by the will of the crown, I hereby appoint you—"
He raised a hand, smoothly cutting her off.
"No need for that fanfare, Your Majesty." His voice was playful, but his eyes held the same shrewd gleam as always.
She blinked. "You're… declining?"
"I don't want a title that chains me to paperwork," he said. "No matter how golden the shackles are."
"The kingdom needs your mind."
"And it has it," he replied with a smirk. "Appoint your ministers, fill your council with old wolves and young foxes. But me? I just want to stand outside the cage and whisper when it's time to bite."
A pause.
"Appoint me as your Financial Advisor. Informal. Unburdened by bureaucracy. Let me do what I do best—from the shadows, if I must."
Celene studied him for a long beat, then smiled faintly.
"You want power… without politics."
"I want influence without the idiocy."
She laughed—genuinely. "Very well, Dragon Duke. Advisor it is."
They exchanged a look, something wordless and warm. And with that, the Queen rose and dismissed her council.
As the doors to the grand chamber opened and Theo stepped out into the corridor, a familiar voice met him.
"You didn't even let me speak inside, eh?"
Theo turned—and saw his father, Duke Alaric Aldercrest, arms crossed, leaning against the marble pillar like a war-scarred sentinel.
Theo raised an eyebrow. "Trying to make a dramatic entrance?"
"Old bones don't like thrones," Alaric grunted. "But I hear they're calling you the Dragon Duke now."
"Catchy, isn't it?"
"The scale of what you've done…" his father shook his head. "You tore the court down and rebuilt it in a week. I raised you on ledgers, not revolutions."
Theo smiled faintly. "Well, revolutions are just overdue payments collected… violently."
His father chuckled, but there was something proud in his tired eyes. "You've grown dangerous."
"I learned from the best."
They stood in silence for a moment, then Alaric clapped a hand on Theo's shoulder.
"How about a bout? Like the old days. One sword, one truth."
Theo grinned. "Been years since you asked that."
"Then it's about time you lose again."
Later that evening, the duel grounds of House Aldercrest echoed with the clash of steel.
Father and son moved like mirrored ghosts, blades ringing under the moonlight. Vaelstrom lay coiled on the balcony above, tail flicking idly, watching the two sparring figures with ancient, unreadable eyes.
And for a moment—just a moment—Theo wasn't a duke, a dragonlord, or a revolutionary.
He was just a son.
At dawn, as the city stirred to life, a sealed letter arrived at the gates of the Aldercrest manor.
Theo opened it with a blade, brow arched as he read.
"Tomorrow's court will address government restructuring and division of powers. Your presence is requested—quietly, of course."—Celene
He smirked to himself.
The wheels of the ducal carriage turned steadily as the lands of the south rolled by. The scent of salt from the sea mingled with the fertile breath of golden fields, freshly reaped and reborn. Theo sat with one hand against his chin, watching the sun pour its gold across the rolling countryside that he now ruled — not just by birth, but by fire.
He was going home.
And as the carriage passed under the ancient stone arch that marked the boundary of Aldercrest lands, there it was—etched in silver and steel on the banners, painted onto wooden shields, woven into tapestries:
Two crossed swords behind a lion's head.
The Sigil of House Aldercrest.
Not long ago, it had been a forgotten symbol of a dying house. Now? It flew like a standard reborn.
The guards at the gate raised their fists. The villagers cheered as the procession rolled through cobbled streets. Flags snapped in the wind. People threw petals. Some knelt. Some cried. All chanted his name.
"Long live the Dragon Duke!""Glory to Aldercrest!""Theo! Theo! Theo!"
Theo stepped out onto the steps of the southern manor as Vaelstrom's shadow soared overhead, wings spread like prophecy. He took in the sight — his people, his land, his banner — and felt it settle in his chest, not as pride, but as purpose.
He smiled, quietly. "I came back alive," he said under his breath, "but now I have to live worthy of it."
That night, in the great study of Aldercrest Manor, the war table was lit by the glow of hanging lanterns and the soft flicker of the hearth. A massive map lay open before him, inked with rivers, roads, and villages — the full stretch of the duchy, roughly the size of Wales.
It had sea access, thriving grain production, and relative peace. But now, Theo needed more than peace.
He needed progress.
He tapped a corner of the map near the harbor with a silver-tipped pointer. "The watches are doing well, but it's not enough. We need more—more innovation, more industry, more influence."
At that moment, Lira stepped in, clutching a stack of parchment.
"How much money do we have now, post-capital?" Theo asked casually, not looking up.
Lira smirked. "After what you pulled in the capital—the speech, the fire, the dragon… the guild's valuation has increased."
"How much?" he asked, sipping his wine. "Ten? Fifteen percent?"
She cleared her throat. "Fifteen hundred."
He froze.
"…Percent?"
She nodded.
Theo sat down slowly, like the world had tilted under his boots. "Fifteen hundred percent."
"Yes," she said, deadpan. "The guild is now richer than some kingdoms. Congratulations. You're terrifying."
He rubbed his temples. "We went from selling watches to being courted by foreign economies…"
Lira arched an eyebrow. "So what now, Financial Advisor of the Crown?"
Theo leaned back in his chair and stared at the lion's head and swords engraved into the mantle above the fireplace.
"Now," he said, "I make sure this doesn't become a gilded coffin."
"We build more. Better. Smarter. We use magic. We use muscle. We use momentum."
He stood and pointed to the southern coast.
"A port. A naval trade guild. Magic-infused logistics. Let's build something no other kingdom has ever dreamed of."
Lira whistled low. "You want to shape the future."
Theo smirked. "No. I want to own it."