Chapter 96: A House Reclaimed

  With the Elven nobles and Churches ambassadors dismissed,

  The war room of New York was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the growing city’s bustling energy outside. The scent of parchment, ink, and burning candles lingered in the air as Marcus, Thalron, and Ragn gathered around a long wooden table, an expansive map of Nireen unfurled before them.

  Ragn, Marcus' former party member and New York’s newly appointed spymaster, leaned forward, his sharp eyes scanning the intricate markings and shifting borders before tapping a dagger onto the capital city of Nireen. The blade struck with a soft thud, pinning the unstable future of the empire beneath cold steel.

  "Nireen is cracking," he said, his voice low and measured. "A new noble house, House Veylan, has emerged, challenging the empire’s power structure. The old houses don’t like it, and the entire region is on the brink of internal conflict. Assassinations, mercenary skirmishes, political maneuvering—it’s a bloodbath waiting to happen."

  The room fell into a hushed stillness, save for the distant hum of the city outside.

  Thalron’s expression darkened, his fingers flexing against the edge of the table. His sharp, green-gold eyes narrowed as he processed the information. "House Veylan? They were never major players before."

  Ragn nodded. "They weren’t. But with Nireen in turmoil, they’re forcing their claim. If they succeed, the empire’s noble hierarchy shifts. And that creates an opening."

  Marcus, leaning against the table with his arms crossed, frowned. "Opening for what, exactly?"

  Thalron exhaled, his gaze locked onto the map, but his mind was elsewhere. "For me to restore my family’s name."

  Marcus tilted his head, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Why would you want that? You and Fillia seem to be doing fine outside of Nireen."

  Thalron’s jaw tensed, his fingers pressing into the table’s edge. "Fine isn’t the same as justice, Marcus."

  Silence settled over the room, heavy and unspoken. When Thalron finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of years of exile, of battles fought in the shadows of his own history.

  "My mother was the last heir of House Kelcrest, one of the oldest noble lines in Nireen. When I was born, they erased us from history."

  Marcus’s brows furrowed further. "Because you're half-dwarf," he said knowingly.

  A humorless chuckle left Thalron’s lips. "Yes... Because I’m half-dwarf."

  The words hung in the air, cold and immutable.

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  "Nireen’s nobility sees blood purity as power. My mother, Lady Fillia Kelcrest, was supposed to secure a political marriage—strengthening ties between houses. Instead, she fell in love with my father, Quell."

  Marcus’s expression shifted at the mention of the name. He straightened, his eyes flickering with recognition. "Yeah, the guild’s blacksmith?"

  Thalron gave a small nod, his voice quieter but no less intense. "Before he was the most renowned craftsman in the Adventurer’s Guild and a master of enchanted forging, to the elves, he was nothing. A commoner. A dwarf. And when they had me—a half-breed—I became a stain on my mother’s legacy."

  Marcus’s fists clenched at the injustice, his nails pressing into his palms. "That’s some next-level bullshit."

  Thalron smirked, but there was no humor in it. "That’s Nireen. They revoked our titles, seized our lands, and declared House Kelcrest defunct. My mother and I were all but exiled."

  Marcus leaned back, rubbing his chin. "And now you want back in? What’s different this time?"

  Thalron’s green eyes gleamed with a fierce determination. "House Veylan is throwing everything into chaos. New noble houses are rarely accepted without resistance. This is our chance to forge alliances, break traditions, and carve out a new future. And because I want to restore my mother's name."

  A heavy silence followed. Marcus understood ambition, but this was bigger.

  "This isn’t just about a title, is it?" Marcus finally asked.

  Thalron shook his head. "It’s about legacy. My mother gave up everything for love. She lost her status, her family, and her homeland. I want to honor her sacrifice. I want to show Nireen that we’re more than our bloodline."

  A low whistle broke the tension as Vira’s voice cut through the quiet. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, golden eyes dancing with amusement. "So let me get this straight. We’re about to storm into Nireen, kick over their noble hierarchy, and make a bunch of highborns very, very uncomfortable?"

  Marcus smirked, his lips curling into something dangerously close to excitement. "Seems that way."

  Vira chuckled, her usual sharp grin spreading across her face. "I’m in."

  Arixa, seated at a nearby table, continued sharpening her warhammer, the rhythmic scrape of stone against steel punctuating her words. "If this means I get to crack some rich skulls, count me in."

  Thalron looked at them all—his family, in all but blood. His mother had lost her house, her name, and her legacy. But standing before him were those who would fight to reclaim it by his side.

  With a slow, resolute nod, he said:

  "We leave at first light."

  The next morning, Marcus, Thalron, Vira, and Arixa stood at the main gate of New York, their horses saddled, supplies packed. The city behind them was growing, thriving—but the road ahead led to something greater.

  Thalron adjusted his gauntlets, his gaze fixed on the horizon. For too long, his mother’s legacy had been buried. That ended now.

  Marcus stepped up beside him, rolling his shoulders. "You ready for this?"

  Thalron smirked, his green eyes filled with purpose. "I’ve been waiting my whole life."

  Vira, already mounted, gave them a smirk. "Then let’s stop wasting time. We’ve got nobles to piss off."

  Arixa swung herself onto her horse, adjusting the straps of her warhammer. "Let’s just hope they put up a fight. Otherwise, this is gonna be real disappointing."

  Marcus exhaled, glancing at the open road, stretching far into the distance. "Then let’s go shake up an empire."

  The gates of New York swung open, and with it, their next adventure began.

  As they rode out, a soft breeze carried the scent of promise and danger. Marcus felt the familiar thrill of the unknown. Ahead lay Nireen—a land steeped in tradition and prejudice, where bloodlines defined destiny. But Marcus and his companions were never ones to let the world dictate their fate.

  Thalron’s mind was a storm of thoughts. He envisioned his family crest flying once more, his mother’s legacy restored, and justice finally served. The path ahead wouldn’t be easy, but with his friends by his side, he knew they could change more than just his family’s fortunes.

  They could change the course of history.