The wheels rolled over the well-trodden stone road with a muffled, steady rhythm, as if marking the slow march of fate. Through the thick curtains of the carriage, Reinhard lazily watched the landscapes flying by. Beyond the window stretched a scene worthy of a master's brush: majestic mountains, their peaks vanishing into silver clouds, and forests sprawling like a boundless green sea. Their shadows draped the hills like an ancient veil, stitched with sunlit embroidery. Below, a broad river twisted and shimmered, its waters gleaming like molten glass, shifting from turquoise to dark steel. Everything seemed quiet, untouched, as if suspended in an ancient dream.
"All of this will be mine," he said aloud, his voice calm, almost languid, but resonating with steel.
These lands. These rivers. These mountains. Their silence, their power — everything that had belonged to the weak and mediocre for centuries would bow before his name. Just a little more — a few years for his House, and a few more for the Empire, a few hundred steps over the graves of strangers — not a bad plan, all in all. And then, above all this beauty, flames would rise. A sea of fire, sweeping away the unworthy who cowered beneath these trees and palaces.
But before conquering an empire, there were simpler concerns — finances. He leaned back and closed his eyes.
The Rioto Auction. Just a week away. A minor event in the aristocratic world, hardly worth notice. And yet among the dirt and dust, a hidden gem awaited — something that would become his new trump card.
He needed money. A lot. And fast.
Still, he did not worry. Where there was will, there were always tools. He knew far too well how to deal with the right people — especially those too blind to realize they were already dead, merely waiting for the news.
The wheels abruptly ceased their rhythm; the carriage stopped. From beneath the curtain came the scent of city smoke, the heat of stone, the breath of the crowd. He straightened slightly and looked ahead.
Satil. Capital of the Kain Empire.
A colossal city, girded by walls fifty meters high, with gates carved from pure white marble, bearing the Emperor's crest — a golden sun rising behind a winged dragon. The city itself remained unseen, but its presence was palpable — as if behind those gates slumbered a giant, breathing ambition and the searing heat of power.
At the gates, a crowd had gathered. Dozens of luxurious carriages, servants, standard-bearers. Young lords and ladies, adorned in the full splendor of youth and pride. Reinhard already knew that among them would be Pavel de Romane.
Heir to a count's house, whose strength and influence rivaled the ducal bloodlines. The very man who deemed Reinhard an upstart, an unworthy scion, a hollow name wearing a gilded shell. Many times he had tried to provoke him — always in vain. Reinhard's face was stone, unyielding even under the hammer of insult.
And there he stood. Tall, golden-haired, smirking with the arrogance of the entitled, clad in red velvet robes trimmed with silver. Beside him — a guard in black-and-crimson armor, leaning on a massive sword. A Seventh-Rank Knight, judging by the cold gleam in his eyes — one who had already received his payment.
Reinhard did not even raise an eyebrow as his carriage came to a halt before them. He slowly pushed the curtain aside, just as the guard stepped forward.
"Carriage of House Deira?" the man sneered. "Passage is temporarily closed."
Pavel chuckled softly, unable to hide his glee.
"Even a fallen house must learn its place."
The guard lifted his hand, and a blue aura wrapped around his sword. He struck the ground — the earth split with a sharp crack, sending shards of stone flying. A deep fissure opened right in front of Reinhard's carriage wheels, like a scar carved into the brow of an enemy.
"Oh dear," Pavel drawled, mockingly. "It seems someone's precious wheels might get dirty."
Laughter rippled through the gathered crowd.
Yet from inside the carriage, not a sound emerged — not even the whisper of a stir.
"Seems our dear heir is so terrified, he dares not even step outside..." Pavel added, voice dripping with derision.