The echo of trumpets still resonated through the valleys as Laurence and Lusian walked down the marble corridor leading to the Ancestral Hall of House Douglas.
The light of dawn filtered through the tall windows, casting an amber hue over the stone floor. The air was heavy with incense and the dry scent of ancient scrolls. There was something solemn about the place.
Something that seemed to belong more to the dead than to the living.
Beside them, Umber, the enormous black wolf, walked in silence.
His fur blended with the shadows along the walls, and his amber eyes remained fixed on Lusian.
Laurence glanced at him.
He knew that look all too well.
It was not merely the animal's gaze.
It was Sophia's distrust, watching him through their bond.
The duke let out a sigh.
—I wouldn't hurt my own son, Sophia...
He said it more to the ancient stones than to the wolf.
Umber slightly raised his head.
The atmosphere seemed to grow even heavier.
Lusian avoided the beast's gaze.
Neither of them spoke for the rest of the journey.
Even the sound of their footsteps seemed like a desecration.
Eventually, they reached the center of the hall.
There stood a monument of black stone, older than the kingdom itself.
It was an enormous obelisk covered in runes.
The inscriptions emitted a faint, pulsing light, almost organic, as though the stone itself were breathing.
Laurence stopped in front of it.
He placed one hand against its cold surface.
For a moment, the runes shone brighter.
As if they had recognized the blood that had awakened them.
—It's a tradition —he said in a solemn voice—. My father brought me here before I left for my last war.
He looked at Lusian.
—Now it is my turn to do the same with you.
Lusian nodded.
Laurence closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.
—Seven hundred and twenty years ago, the tribes of these lands were devouring one another. Pride and fear kept the people at war. Blood soaked the fields more often than rain.
He slowly began walking around the obelisk.
The light of the runes reflected off his armor.
—Until the Erkhan called upon the great houses.
He ran his fingers over one of the inscriptions.
—The Bourlance answered. The Sneider answered. And the Douglas answered as well.
He stopped.
—From that meeting came the pact that shaped Carpathia.
Lusian remained silent.
—Each family was given a role.
Laurence pointed to the emblem carved into the stone: a black hawk with its wings spread over an eclipsed sun.
—The Erkhan would rule.
—The Sneider would oversee the laws, trade, and currency.
At least, that was how things had been while they still held their place.
—The Bourlance would guard the borders.
He paused.
—And we...
His gaze fell upon Lusian.
—We would do what no one else was willing to do.
Lusian slightly furrowed his brow.
Laurence continued:
—Attack. Subdue. Destroy.
His voice grew deeper.
—We were the shadow that had to appear when the light of the kingdom was not enough.
Lusian remained motionless.
—Our duty was not merely to protect the borders.
Laurence raised his eyes.
—It was to protect the kingdom from any threat.
He paused.
—Foreign or born within its own borders.
Lusian slowly understood.
—Even if that meant standing against other nobles.
—Even if it meant standing against the king himself.
Laurence placed his hand against the obelisk again.
—As long as our autonomy was respected, the Douglas would fulfill their role.
The runes glowed.
—And so the Duchy of Douglas was born.
Lusian silently watched his father.
All this time, he had heard stories about the Douglas.
About the blood they had spilled.
But he had never imagined that the truth was like this.
Much less that they were a family bound to a duty that predated even the Crown.
Laurence lowered his gaze toward a smaller inscription.
He read it quietly:
—The Douglas do not serve kings or crowns.
His voice echoed throughout the hall.
—We are the pillar.
He paused.
—The one that holds the kingdom upright when its kings fall. The shadow that moves when the light grows weak. The blade that cuts when ambition and personal interests corrupt those who rule.
His eyes swept across the hall.
—We do not exist to be loved. Nor to be remembered.
His voice dropped almost to a whisper.
—We exist to protect Carpathia.
He slowly clenched his fist.
—And as long as the kingdom stands, the Douglas will stand with it.
A pause.
—Even if protecting it means becoming what everyone fears.
Silence filled the hall.
Laurence raised his eyes toward Lusian.
—That is our oath.
A brief silence followed.
—To protect, even if doing so requires us to destroy.
Lusian felt a chill.
This was not an honor.
It was a sentence.
A family condemned to bear the decisions no one else wanted to make.
Laurence approached his son.
—If I do not return from this war...
His voice grew quieter.
—You will become the next guardian of the shadow.
Lusian looked at him.
—Carpathia's executioner, if the kingdom demands it.
The words hung in the air.
Lusian felt the weight of that legacy settle upon his shoulders.
He had never thought about it.
He had spent too much time trying to survive to worry about what his surname truly meant.
But now he was beginning to understand.
The Douglas were not simply a powerful family.
They were a tool the kingdom had created centuries ago.
A tool that could be feared.
A tool that could be hated.
But as long as the kingdom existed, it would always have a purpose.
Lusian nodded firmly.
Laurence watched him for several seconds.
There was pride in his eyes.
But also sadness.
—Tell me, Lusian...
The duke hesitated.
—Do you hate me?
Lusian held his gaze.
Inside, an immediate answer surfaced.
Hate you?
I can't hate you.
Because I'm not the son you think I am.
But he said nothing.
Silence was his only answer.
Laurence seemed to understand.
He did not press the matter.
—I want to ask you a favor, son.
—If I can do it, I will.
—Take care of Martha.
Lusian nodded.
Laurence knew perfectly well what those words meant.
While he marched to war, Martha, his concubine, would be exposed.
If Sophia decided to kill her, there would be no fortress or city in Carpathia where she could hide.
Only Lusian had any chance of protecting her.
Laurence slowly stepped back and took one last look at the ancestral monument.
The light of the runes cast shadows across his face.
Perhaps this would be his last visit to the hall.
His last look at his son.
His last night in the castle.
And perhaps his last moment of peace.
Hours later, the trumpets sounded from the walls.
Duke Laurence Douglas was leaving for war.
Five thousand soldiers marched beneath his banner.
Elite warriors.
Men and women who had inherited generations of training and sworn to protect the kingdom from the shadows.
The castle gates began to close.
Lusian remained motionless, watching the column disappear into the dust of the road.
He did not know whether he would ever see his father again.
And for the first time, he understood that perhaps this was precisely what it meant to be a Douglas.
To fulfill one's duty even when returning home was no longer an option.
In the Golden Hall, marble columns supported a ceiling covered in mosaics and gold.
At the center of the chamber, Emperor Ardeus Ferrussi Becker stared at an enormous map of the continent.
His long, aged fingers slowly traced the southern border.
Dara.
Beside him stood his seventh daughter, Naira Ferrussi Becker.
Hair as black as night.
Eyes as gray as steel.
Her beauty was almost hypnotic.
A current of wind gently swirled around her, moving her cloak and several strands of hair.
From birth, she had carried the title of heir to the Empire.
She possessed something few had achieved throughout history.
An Epsilon affinity.
The threshold of absolute power.
—It is time, Naira.
Ardeus's voice broke the silence.
—You have been trained by the finest masters in the Empire. You have studied our treatises on warfare and mastered the magical arts appropriate for your age.
The Emperor raised his eyes.
—But knowledge is worthless if it is never proven on the battlefield.
Naira slightly bowed her head.
—I understand, Father.
—I will not simply entrust you with a single front.
Ardeus smiled.
This time, there was pride in his expression.
—I grant you absolute authority over the southern campaign.
Naira raised her gaze.
—The Fourth, Fifth, and Seventh Legions will be under your command.
He pointed to Dara.
—I need you to achieve your first victory.
Naira studied the map.
—Carpathia is divided. Its noble houses barely trust one another. If we act with precision, breaking through their border should not be difficult.
Ardeus let out a laugh.
—No.
Naira slightly furrowed her brow.
—No?
The Emperor placed both hands on the table.
—Carpathia is not the true objective.
His finger left Dara.
It moved deeper into the kingdom.
Until it stopped over a single name.
Lusian Douglas de Mondring.
Naira remained silent.
—I have heard of him —she finally said—. The young Douglas.
—Exactly.
Ardeus's expression changed.
It was no longer that of an emperor contemplating a war.
It was the expression of a man who had waited far too long for something.
—He was born with an exceptional affinity.
Naira stared at the name.
—As exceptional as they say?
—More.
Ardeus lowered his voice.
—His mother belonged to an Omega bloodline.
Naira's eyes narrowed.
Now she understood.
—Then...
—Yes.
The Emperor smiled.
—All my life, I searched for an Omega within our bloodline.
My father searched for one.
My grandfather did as well.
We all failed.
And now... —his fingers closed around Lusian's name— the answer has appeared on the other side of our borders.
—If you and Lusian had offspring, we could create a bloodline whose affinity would surpass anything ever known.
Naira remained motionless.
—You want me to capture him.
—I want you to bring him to me.
Ardeus paused.
—Conquer Dara. Defeat Carpathia. And bring me Lusian Douglas alive.
Naira held his gaze.
—And if he refuses?
The Emperor's smile disappeared.
—Then you don't need him alive.
Naira remained silent.
Ardeus looked at the name on the map again.
—But if there is a possibility of uniting your blood...
His eyes gleamed with an almost religious obsession.
—Do it.
Naira felt a chill.
—And if I cannot?
The Emperor looked at her for several seconds.
—Then make sure his blood continues into the next generation.
Naira understood perfectly what her father was implying.
The wind around her stirred.
For the first time since entering the room, her expression lost its composure.
—Father...
—Do not disappoint me.
Ardeus placed another piece over Dara.
—I want that fortress.
Then he placed another over Lusian's name.
—And I want that boy.
His gaze hardened.
—The rest of the kingdom is expendable.
Naira stared at the map.
The first imperial banners appeared on the other side of the mountains three days later.
At first, they were little more than dark specks on the horizon.
Then more appeared.
And more.
Until the plains began to fill with soldiers.
The first legions advanced in tight formations, thousands of spears rising in unison. Behind them marched cavalry units, supply wagons, and magical cohorts.
The sound of drums could be heard for miles.
This was not an army advancing.
It was an entire nation moving toward war.
Above them, the Crown Winged Wyverns crossed the sky in long formations.
The enormous draconic beasts beat their wings over the imperial columns while their riders, all level fifty or higher, watched the terrain from above.
Farther behind came the banners of the great legions.
Twelve main corps.
Hundreds of officers.
Tens of thousands of soldiers.
And there were still more troops behind them.
The Ferrussi Empire had not sent an expedition.
It had mobilized a force capable of conquering an entire kingdom.
In total, more than one hundred and fifty thousand combatants could be deployed in the campaign, not counting local militias or mercenaries hired by the imperial provinces.
For centuries, the Empire had built that war machine.
Now, for the first time in generations, all of it had a single objective.
Carpathia.