Within Kaldreach, twelve Noble Houses once reigned.

  Alongside the Church, the Imperial Administration, and what little remained of the Aurelian Royality, the Noble Houses oversaw the major ongoings within Kaldreach, and by extension, the entire North of the human-controlled regions of the Thalmyra continent.

  Of these twelve Noble Houses, currently, only three could still be said to be a major independent power, commanding respectable armies, wealth, and reputations to their name.

  The rest were presently left in varying states of dissolution. Some had been destroyed by demons, others by more ‘human’ and internal sources. A few had even fractured into a dozen squabbling minor Houses, fighting over what little was left of their family’s fortune.

  In some instances, they might have even been assimilated into one of the larger factions in Kaldreach, such as the Church, the Empire, or even by the three Major Houses.

  Neither House Elathion nor House Dervaine were one of those three Major Houses, but Lord Draevan would freely admit that House Dervaine was closer to their status than most.

  The reception alone proved that point. Where Lord Draevan had only been able to greet his guest with the bare minimum of food and board, Lord Horatio of House Dervaine had come prepared with much fanfare. His servants lined the walkway to the castle’s entrance, immaculately dressed and bowing deeply as he and his entourage entered. Maids, butlers, squires, even knights… Their numbers dwarfed Draevan’s own household twice over, and that was only what was presently presented.

  The young party of five Chosens looked used to their presence, though Draevan caught a slight apologetic look from the Joarris, the young Heir.

  A strong young man, with a talent for playing the tiresome game of noble intrigue. Draevan would remember his name, as well as the memorable, scarred face he carried.

  The House Seneschal greeted them warmly. Draevan’s men were given a place to rest, while the Lord himself was given a short tour of the primary estate. Draevan saw opulence and wealth within the gilded halls and tastefully decorated furniture. It merely confirmed more of what he knew: that House Dervaine was well on the road to recovery from the Great Collapse that nearly consumed Kaldreach a century ago.

  It was far more than what he could generously say for his own House, which was only recently pulled from the precipice of destruction.

  And it was all thanks to one boy.

  If not for him, Dulcina would be gone by now. How long could I have held out in such despair? I would never have known of Justinia’s fate, either. My House would be destroyed by debt and traitors. What would become of me then, I wonder?

  The Lord pulled his grim thoughts away. It would not do for such morbidity to cloud his thinking when he was about to meet the head of the House.

  Lord Horatio Dervaine was not a man he could afford to underestimate.

  Eventually, the grandstanding came to an end, and Lord Draevan found himself seated at the opposite end of a long table from the House Head as lunch was served.

  Lord Horatio was a large man — not fat by most noble standards, though definitely on the stout side of the spectrum. That did not mean he looked weak or indulgent, however.

  The man was nearly two metres tall, with shoulders twice as broad as Lord Draevan’s. His arms and chest rippled with muscles beneath his fine open coat, the exposed skin revealing vicious battle scars, especially the one clawing down from his throat to his heart. A mountain of meat filled the man’s plate, though he ate with a calm and elegant demeanour.

  “You have not touched your food, Lord Draevan,” the man said. His voice was deep — a rumble that edged upon a guttural growl. “Nor even the wine. Is my chef’s skill lacking compared to yours, or is the quality of my hospitality not to your standard?”

  “I mean no insult, Lord Horatio,” Draevan replied calmly. “Your welcome far exceeds what I am warranted. House Elathion’s reception would not have compared to yours.”

  “And yet, you are tense as a snake,” Horatio casually noted. “Relax. Enjoy the meal. I would guess it’s finer than anything you had recently.”

  Draevan smiled, but remained as he was.

  The Lord of the House sighed. “Fine. Business it is, then. I had hoped for some levity before our discussions, but I can see they mean much to you. Servants! Clear the room. I wish to be alone with our guest.”

  The maids and butlers swiftly left, until it was only the two Lords left in the vast hall.

  “Before we begin, may I see it first?” Horatio requested, though his words edged upon a demand.

  Draevan did not let the veiled insult affect him. Instead, he produced a protective strongbox from his person and placed it on the table.

  He opened it, and the lustrous glimmer of a Ruby Core filled the room with its sinful glow.

  Horatio smiled. “Very good. In truth, I had my doubts that you had closed the Hellgate infesting your lands, but it seems that you have truly managed to accomplish the impossible. I offer my congratulations.”

  “Hose Elathion finds itself a stroke of luck after decades of misfortune,” Draevan nodded. “I hope it might find itself one more today.”

  “You will. I am feeling generous today, so in view of forming lasting relations between us…” Lord Horatio set down his eating knife. “I offer you a thousand gold, paid upfront and today, for this Ruby Core you have brought me.”

  Lord Draevan’s smile turned thin. “If that is the best you have to start with, perhaps I am better off turning to my other contacts.”

  “What contacts? Let us be frank, Draevan. You have no contacts, at least not ones with the coin to buy something that valuable,” Horatio snorted, forgoing formalities. “House Elathion’s mercantile connections did not survive the last century. The trades of trinkets for paltry silver are all you have left.”

  “The Church—”

  “Will barely purchase a Ruby Core for a fraction of my offer,” Horatio countered easily. “Kaldreach’s sacred Ministry is a broken dog. It has no funds to pay you after the abysmal failure of the 24th Cursade — that wretched attempt to retake the Central Capital from the Hellgates and reclaim the Holy Sword. The same goes for the Imperium, its military shattered and the administration scrambling to prevent the succession of the archipelagic West.”

  “There will be others.”

  “Oh, for sure. Maybe you could reach out to the other noble houses. I’m sure the prominent three families in Kaldreach would be very interested in hearing of your Ruby Core. They won’t steal it from you outright, but there are many things they can do to persuade you to give it to them freely, and they are ever so persuasive.”

  “A Ruby Core is easily worth twice as much as your offer,” Draevan said neutrally.

  “And in your hands, it’s worth half as much, because why bother paying for something when you could just take it for free? You are nowhere near influential enough to withstand the viciousness of the greater powers at play,” Horatio shrugged. “Had it not been for my son’s blunder bringing us together, it’s most likely we would not even be having this conversation.”

  Lord Draevan sighed. “You did not bring me all the way here to waste my time. You know I cannot accept your offer.”

  “What’s this? You are giving up the game already?” Horatio laughed. “C’mon, Draevan. Play a little.”

  “I find myself with little patience for games these days, especially those of noble intrigue,” Draevan murmured. “I was never trained for them, either.”

  “Hm. I suppose not. You were never supposed to claim your House seat of Head, were you? The title belonged to your three older siblings, while you were shipped away to be trained as an attack hound for your family.”

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  Lord Draevan stiffened, the first involuntary reaction he displayed through the whole meeting.

  “You became a Sapphire-Core Chosen before you even reached forty,” Horatio chuckled. “We Jewelled Chosens could easily live over a century or two. Most of us stagnate at the Ruby Rank for decades, adjusting to our new power. Yet you blitz past it in under ten years. You ask why I brought you all the way here? It’s because of that: reputation.”

  “House Elathion has no reputation to spare,” Draevan flatly said.

  “Ah, but you do. Youngest Jewelled Core of the century. Prodigy of the North. Saviour of the Church’s most precious High Priestess, Garion Sunpyre. Slayer of the Harrowmount Archon. The Lord of Frenzied Storms. Most would laugh in the face of such theatrical titles… were it not for the corpses you left in your wake that birth them in the first place.”

  “I’m flattered you have taken such an interest in my reckless past.” Draevan’s tone ran contrary to his words.

  Horatio laughed. “It’s less an interest and more that rumours of your exploits were unavoidable. You were the public hero of the Empire for a time, especially after that stunt you pulled with Garion Sunpyre, Blessed be Her Most Holy Name. Some thought you might become the first modern Saint of our age, given another century of growth. Is it true you never lost a duel?”

  “I simply pick my opponents well.”

  “Was that what you told yourself when you fought the Harrowmount Archon in single combat?” Horatio's boisterous laughter shook the hall. “My point is, you are a man of many worthy titles, all well-earned… and all lost when your traitorous second brother left your Noble House in shambles, and you were forced to give up your tenure within the Empire’s last true remaining bastion of authority — the Aurelian Academy, home of Saints. I could use someone like you.”

  “You want me to join your House?” Draevan snorted. “Absurd.”

  “Is it?” Horatio leisurely drank some wine before he continued. “You already saw the band of misfits my son has made, hadn’t you? Nobles from House Favoruis, Nightfold, and Carmine — all once great families a century ago, now barely standing. I dragged their desolate Houses under my fold, cleared their debts, made their Heirs live in my House under fosterage, and bound them as companions to my son. I can do the same for you.”

  “You have them as underlings to your Heir’s leadership, so that they will still listen to him when the next generation comes to inherit our place,” Draevan bluntly pointed out. “I have no interest in subjecting Dulcina to such a fate, nor in giving up my House’s independence.”

  “What is independence worth in such tiring times? Is it not better for us to band together to weather the storm? So much of us, we mighty ‘Noble Families’, was lost since the Great Collapse. We may never reach the same heights as before in our lives, but we can survive the storm, and once it passes, our children can inherit the North and rebuild our past glories.”

  “Pretty words. But worthless.”

  Horatio smiled, uninsulted. “What I am offering you is different from the other families I took under my wing. Like I said, you have value. The Ruby Core alone proves that. Take the trade I give you today. When your daughter comes of age, wed her to my son. We will bind our families as one, as equals, and become stronger for it. House Elathion need not face the future alone.”

  Draevan kept his face blank.

  Horatio resumed his meal, unbothered by the silence.

  After several minutes, Draevan spoke. “Two thousand gold.”

  “Denied,” Horatio instantly said. “One thousand two hundred.”

  “One thousand nine hundred,” Draevan countered.

  “Ha! One thousand three hundred. And that’s me being far more generous than I should.”

  “One thousand six hundred. In addition to that, I shall need you to loan me your connections. I’ll then use that gold to acquire the manpower and equipment required to restart my mining operations. Think of it as a favour — You’re smart enough to claim a cut of it from your dealings with them.”

  Horatio laughed. “Are you trying to bargain me a deal with my own money?”

  “In addition, I will need to borrow a few of your knights,” Draevan continued, tone bland and a face of stone. “I am planning an expedition into the Slaver Isles.”

  At that, Horatio paused. A hint of genuine confusion appeared in his eyes. “Are you trying to take a slice of the West? It’s chaos there, and while chaos makes for opportunity, your House is in no state to do business with slavers and pirates.”

  “I do have business. But it’s purely personal.”

  Horatio drummed his fingers on the table, considering this strange development. “Well, your ‘personal’ is likely bad for my business. But I suppose I have men to spare. It will be a good opportunity to bloody a few of my Copper and Bronze Chosens.”

  “No Copper. No Bronze,” Draevan rejected. “Silver and Golds, at least. And a Jewelled Chosen if you can spare it.”

  “Oh, come now, Draevan,” Horatio scowled. “You cannot possibly think I will give you that.”

  Draevan gently tapped the Ruby Core’s strongbox on the table. “A Jewelled Hellgate Core — even one only ranked as Ruby — is a resource few other Houses have. Of the three major families in Kaldreach, I doubt even all three of them have even a single one each to their names. There are many things you can do with such a Core. Profitable things. Incredible things.”

  Magic workshops. A power source for industry. Even just as raw arcana to fuel one’s own Core development. A Jewelled Hellgate Core was a resource that was as scarce as it was sought after within the dwindling Empire.

  “You don’t need to tell me things I already know,” Horatio snorted. “What of it? My point still stands: You wouldn’t find a better offer than mine in Kaldreach.”

  “But I can find a worse offer,” Draevan countered, his voice lifeless. “I could give the Core to the three Great families for their favour instead.”

  “What? Absurd. Those vipers will give you nothing in return. You will be throwing away your last lifeline.”

  “And in doing so, you will be denied your last chance to raise House Dervaine’s power to match theirs,” Draevan countered.

  Lord Horatio said nothing.

  “There are three things a Noble House needs to stay independent: reputation, wealth, and an army,” Draevan continued. “You already have the last two. This Core will give you the first. Your son can also take the glory for blowing up the port and clearing the Hellgate. I do not care for it; House Elathion will be willing to back your claim. For killing a Ruby-ranked Archon at his age, the people will regard him as the second coming of Saint Dervaine, and if you use the Ruby Core to hasten his growth—”

  “I do not need you to tell me what I should or should not do with my son,” Horatio interrupted. Draevan considered pushing, but the warning look in the other Lord’s eye told him to stay silent. “At least tell me this, then: why are you so desperate to go to the Slaver Isles? The West is no place for a northerner.”

  Draevan’s hands twitched. His breathing was controlled, his face blank and void. An outsider might see his expression as one of control.

  Lord Horatio could see past the facade: a mad dog on the brink of breaking a strained leash, pushed too far and yearning for the violence he was bred for.

  Somehow, the Lord knew if Draevan did not get the deal he needed today, it would serve as the excuse he needed to tear off restraints, once and for all.

  And the Lord could not deal with a frenized hound.

  “They have my daughter,” Draevan finally said.

  Horatio frowned. “Your Heiress was last seen in your castle earlier today.”

  “Not Dulcina. Justinia.” Draevan’s tone was that of a corpse.

  Horatio carefully processed this new revelation. “I heard she died in an accident and was never found. A fake? No, a kidnapping. It was that immortal half-blood, Gunther Stormcaller, then, wasn’t it? That’s how you learnt. I see. Who gave the order?”

  “The Duskcrowns.”

  Horatio, despite himself, winced. “My condolences.”

  “I do not need your condolences. I need your men. This Ruby Core is worth far more than what I’m asking. If you’re not willing, then this discussion is over, and I’ll take my dealings elsewhere instead.”

  Horatio sighed. He considered for a moment, then drained his wine.

  After a tense moment, the heavy man looked into his empty glass, then shrugged. “One thousand five hundred gold. The merchant contacts to restart your mining operations, I’ll give you, but I want 10% of your mine’s earnings for ten years. As a gesture of friendship, I’ll leave them be for the first five years, so that your House can recover from its financial burdens. Our children shall marry before those five years as well, so that we may solidify our bonds. In exchange…”

  Horatio paused. When he next spoke, he said his words carefully. “In exchange, I’ll spare you my Chosens: a demi-company of Bronze mercenaries, twenty Silver knights, five Gold veterans, and a Ruby Core Lieutenant to lead them.”

  A flash of surprise appeared over Draevan’s stoic expression. A brief second of hesitation passed.

  Draevan nodded. “Done.”

  Horatio spread his arms wide, grinning. “And so now we are friends, and soon to be family. I look forward to this union, Lord Draevan.”

  They continued their meal, with Lord Draevan even joining in this time. They engaged in brief conversation, talking of matters beyond business.

  When they finished, Draevan thanked Horatio for the meal and politely declined the man’s offer to stay for a night to enjoy the House’s hospitality.

  Just as Draevan was about to turn away and exit the hall, the man hesitated. He turned to face the other Lord. “Why did you agree to give me your men?”

  In Draevan’s eyes, he could not see why the Lord would be so generous in his aid. He was practically loaning him a small army.

  “Children are important. They are everything to us parents, Lord or not,” Horatio said wistfully. “I learnt that when I lost my first boy to that damn 24th Crusade a decade ago. Consider this a gift, from one father to another. I hope you find your girl, slim as the odds may be. Goddess knows I would give everything to have my boy back.”

  Draevan considered this for a moment, then nodded. “I see. Then I thank you, one father to another.”

  As the man left the hall, he could not help but consider how Lord Horatio had so callously commanded his second son into that ill-fated mission at the port.

  Dangerous, indeed. But for the sake of Justinia, any price is acceptable.

  Dulcina would agree. There is no other way.

  And anyone who gets in my path… I’ll kill them all, even if they are a Lord.