Duke William Blackwood took control the moment the war finally ended.

  The end had come so suddenly that he had nearly died to it. A young soldier—eyes red, mind clearly broken—had slipped past his guard and rushed him with a blade when he had been stunned with the first explosion. Blackwood still remembered the madness on the man’s face. He would have been cut down if not for the second explosion that tore through the upper district of Hermil at that exact moment.

  The ground shook first, and in response to its impact, the walls trembled.

  Blackwood staggered, the soldier lost his footing, and in that brief instant Blackwood struck, knocking the man away as the shaking stones threw them apart. After that, there was no more fighting left in him—or in anyone.

  All he could do was stare.

  The city was burning.

  Smoke rose in thick columns, darkening the sky. The roar of spells, screams, and steel faded one by one as the royal castle collapsed. Towers that had stood for centuries fell apart like rotten wood.

  When the castle finally came down, the fighting stopped everywhere.

  Even the maddened soldiers froze.

  Some dropped their weapons. Others fell to their knees. A few Mages and nobles begged openly, crying and pleading as they realized their masters were likely dead.

  No orders came anymore.

  The castle’s destruction was both the worst and the clearest sign of defeat.

  Everyone had seen the battle in the sky. Everyone had seen Arzan turn into a dragon. If that alone had not ended the war, the explosion certainly did.

  What followed was not victory. It was exhaustion.

  Blackwood gathered what forces he could and took charge. He led teams of water, wind, and earth Mages through the ruined streets, putting out fires where they could and digging through collapsed buildings. They worked without rest, pulling apart burning debris, listening for cries that never came. If not for him giving orders to evacuate most citizens through the southern gates, no one would have survived.

  Hour after hour passed and in that time, they only found two survivors. But they were probably the most important ones.

  The first was Knight Killian.

  They heard him before they saw him—weak shouts coming from the narrow gap between two massive buildings that had collapsed into each other.

  It took time and careful work to reach him, but when they did, he was still alive. Barely.

  His armour was torn apart, his body crushed and burned, but he was conscious enough to speak. Between laboured breaths, he explained what had happened in the gardens before finally losing consciousness.

  The second survivor was Arzan.

  They found him lying in the middle of a shattered street, not buried under rubble as most had expected, but out in the open. His expression was strangely calm, even peaceful, despite half his body being burned and blood soaking into the broken stone beneath him. The only reason it had taken so long to retrieve him was because no one thought to look for him there. Everyone had expected him to be in the centre of the explosion.

  Still, he had survived.

  Duke Blackwood did not expect him to wake for days, and those days were spent dealing with the aftermath of the war.

  With the royal castle destroyed, even the dungeon beneath it had collapsed. There was nowhere left to hold prisoners. On top of that, large parts of the city were unlivable, and countless commoners had lost their homes in a single day.

  There were too many problems and not enough time.

  In the end, Blackwood made the decision to move both the displaced populace and the captured soldiers out of the capital. The common people were sent to Eden City, while the war prisoners were marched to Veyrin. Both places had space, supplies, and proper jails. Blackwood still had enough able Enforcers willing to escort them, even if it meant several days on the road.

  Once the city was finally cleared of its most pressing burdens, Duke Blackwood personally led a group of Mages and soldiers back to the ruins.

  It was time to see what, if anything, remained of the royal castle.

  Princess Amara took charge of the cleanup.

  She refused to leave the capital, even when others urged her to rest or move to another city. With her water magic, she became one of the most important people in the effort to put out fires, clear debris, and recover bodies.

  Duke Blackwood did not stop her. In truth, without her, the work would have taken far longer.

  When a path was finally cleared toward the ruins of the royal castle, what they found was grim. Giant boulders lay where halls once stood. The ground was scorched black, and bodies were scattered everywhere.

  Duke Blackwood knew that even in death, some of those bodies still mattered. Titles, bloodlines, and political consequences did not disappear just because the war had ended. He gave strict orders for a full search.

  It took hours just to move through what remained of the castle.

  From the information gathered from captured soldiers, it became clear that most of the people inside the castle had been servants, guards, and the sons and daughters of nobles who had supported Regina. None of them had survived. Even so, their bodies had to be recovered. Fragments of their families still lived, and the dead needed to be accounted for.

  That task was easier said than done.

  Many of the corpses were unrecognizable. Some were burned beyond identification. Others were crushed so badly that they were missing limbs—or even their heads. The stench of blood, decay and ash hung thick in the air. More than once, soldiers and Mages had to stop and vomit before forcing themselves to continue. Even Duke Blackwood felt his stomach twist, but he pushed forward through sheer will.

  He was not there simply to count the dead.

  He was searching for one body.

  The search continued until the remaining structure of the castle had been fully mapped. It took nearly a full day before they finally found what they were looking for.

  The royal dungeons had been built to withstand disasters, even earthquakes. Because of that, part of it had remained intact, though the walls were cracked and the ceiling had partially collapsed.

  Beneath the broken stone, they found him.

  Eldric.

  The man who had been crowned king lay dead, his body pinned beneath rubble, his head crushed by a massive boulder. Duke Blackwood doubted the man had even seen his death coming. He had probably died in an instant.

  With Eldric’s death confirmed, Duke Blackwood confirmed the one truth that had been in everyone’s mind for days now.

  The era of House Lancephil ruling the kingdom had come to an end.

  ***

  Viscountess Vaessa sipped her tea as she sat on the rooftop of her estate in Matilla City.

  The stone beneath her was still warm from the morning sun, and above her, the sky was clear and wide, with only a few thin clouds drifting lazily past. The sunlight peeked through them, soft and calm. It was hard to believe that just a few weeks ago, this same sky had been filled with flying kraels. Back then, the beasts had carried out guerrilla attacks on the city again and again, while the barbarians had fought to keep the walls standing.

  Now, everything was quiet.

  A drone had arrived days ago, carrying the news she had been waiting for. The war was over. Completely. Queen Regina was dead. Arzan Kellius had won. He was unconscious, badly injured, but alive, and healing faster than expectations.

  Vaessa let out a slow breath and took another sip of her tea.

  It was an outcome she would never have believed a few months ago. Back then, placing her trust in Arzan had been nothing more than a gamble. He had been young, dangerous, and unpredictable, but also the most talented Mage she had ever seen. Betting on him had been risky.

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  But it had paid off.

  Because of his victory, the entire western region now fell under her authority. All of it. The sheer size of the territory still felt unreal to her. Even after sending her sons and daughters to govern the major cities, there were still vast areas left without direct oversight. She had already dispatched her other subordinates to fill in the gaps, but she did not fully trust them.

  None of them had ever carried this much responsibility before.

  And more than that, she did not want to make mistakes. Not now. Not when there was a real chance that Arzan might raise her noble rank once he woke. She refused to give him any reason to doubt her competence.

  Still, Vaessa was realistic.

  She did not believe she would be granted full control over the western territories forever. Arzan had many nobles supporting him, and they would be at his side when he regained consciousness. They would have their own demands, their own rewards.

  But Arzan did not strike her as the kind of man who forgot debts.

  If not for her actions, if not for how much she had supported him against Thalric, his victory would not have been nearly as decisive. The western front would have dragged on far longer.

  But even Vaessa could admit that others had contributed more than she had.

  She took another slow sip of her tea, her thoughts already moving toward how she should act in this new kingdom Arzan was shaping. Just as she began planning her next steps, movement caught her attention. Two soldiers were walking toward the rooftop.

  Vaessa raised an eyebrow.

  Both men immediately straightened. One of them stepped forward and spoke carefully. “Viscountess Vaessa, someone has arrived from Hermil and wishes to meet you.”

  Her eyes sharpened at once. “Who is it?” she asked. “Did Arzan send someone?”

  The soldier shook his head. “No, my lady. It is Baroness Marren. She says the matter is important.”

  For a brief moment, Vaessa nearly dropped her cup. She steadied it just in time, then calmly placed it down on the table. She looked back at the soldiers.

  “Send her here,” Vaessa said. “And make sure no one disturbs us.”

  Both soldiers bowed and left at once.

  Vaessa stared down at her tea, the surface barely rippling. She could not remember the last time Baroness Marren had set foot in her city. And now, of all times, she had come—right as the kingdom was changing hands.

  It was obvious Marren had something planned. The question was what.

  She did not have to wait long.

  Soon, the baroness entered her view, walking alone. She stopped in front of the table and looked at Vaessa before asking, “May I sit?”

  Vaessa almost laughed.

  “I never thought I’d see manners from you,” she said lightly.

  Her face twisted at once, the pleasant mask dropping completely and she immediately sat down, dragging a seat from the left.

  Vaessa chuckled softly. “There it is,” she said. “Finally showing your true face.” She paused, lifted her cup, and took another unhurried sip before looking back at the baroness. “So why are you here? I already received news of the war.”

  Baroness Marren leaned forward slightly. “I know you did. But did it mention that Eldric is dead too?”

  Vaessa froze.

  The report she had received had said nothing about that. Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup. “They found his body?” she asked.

  Marren nodded. “They did. And with that, Arzan will be crowned king the moment he wakes up. He controls every major region now. The neighboring kingdoms won’t dare interfere. He has no real opposition left.”

  Vaessa let out a quiet breath. “I would be surprised if anyone was foolish enough to oppose him, knowing his strength.”

  “Yes,” Marren agreed. “You weren’t at the siege of Hermil. What he showed in the sky that day…” She shook her head. “I don’t think even any Magus could touch him.”

  Vaessa smiled faintly. “It sounds like he’s made you a fan. Are you here to tell me stories about his greatness?”

  Marren scowled. “No. I respect power, nothing more. And actually, that is exactly why I am here.” She lowered her voice. “With that kind of strength, the nobles are terrified. Some of them are already trying to appeal to Knight Killian instead of Arzan.”

  Vaessa raised an eyebrow. “But not Duke Blackwood?”

  Marren shook her head. “They would be idiots to try. Duke Blackwood doesn’t play these games. He’s too busy holding the capital together after half of it was blown apart.” She paused, then looked directly at Vaessa. “Do you know what the nobles are really aiming for?”

  Viscountess Vaessa looked at her and asked quietly, “What?”

  Baroness Marren did not hesitate. “Four words,” she said. “The ducal house seats.”

  Vaessa went still.

  She understood at once what Marren meant. The thought had crossed her mind before, but she had not lingered on it. Now, it felt impossible to ignore. With the war over, the noble structure of the kingdom was about to change completely. House Kellius would rise to royalty. House Blackwood would remain strong. But the other ducal houses? Most of them had backed the princes. Two ducal heads were dead, and the third was in the dungeons.

  The houses could beg. They could submit. But even then, they would lose influence. Some would be demoted. Others might be stripped of their titles entirely. There would be empty seats at the top of the kingdom’s hierarchy.

  And gaps like that never stayed empty for long.

  Vaessa slowly looked back at Marren. “You want to fight for a ducal position,” she said. “Together.”

  “Yes,” Marren replied without hesitation. “That is exactly why I am here.”

  Vaessa studied her carefully. “Why me?”

  Marren met her gaze. “Because others would smile to my face and stab me in the back. You won’t. If you have to stab me, you will do it in the heart.” She paused. “After years of rivalry and open hostility, I know exactly the kind of woman you are. And you know the same about me. That makes you a better ally than any sweet-tongued noble.”

  Vaessa let out a soft chuckle, but she did not answer immediately. She thought it through. What Marren was offering was not just cooperation. It was a gamble. A hand extended in a moment when the entire kingdom was being reshaped.

  A ducal seat was something Vaessa wanted regardless. That much was clear.

  Still, she tilted her head and said, “I understand your reasoning. But why should I need you? My contributions in the war should be enough for Arzan to consider me on their own.”

  Marren nodded slowly. “Maybe,” she said. “But the western region is full of lesser nobles. They will swarm the moment rewards are handed out. Every one of them will try to carve away a piece of what you are given.”

  She leaned forward slightly. “A title comes with land. I can help you keep it.”

  Vaessa’s lips curved into a smile. “That,” she said, “is interesting.” She set her cup down. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

  Marren allowed herself a thin smile. “Let me explain.”

  And with that, the two women began to quietly plan a complete reshaping of the kingdom’s noble order.

  ***

  A/N - You can read 30 chapters (15 Magus Reborn and 15 Dao of money) on my patreon. Annual subscription is now on too.

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