The grand hall of the Auric Spire was a scene of utter chaos and destruction and devastation.
The echoes of battle had faded.
It was now replaced by the low moans of the injured, the terrified whimpers of guests, and the frantic shouts of Thorne Guards who were busy securing the perimeter.
Choking and Pungent Smoke hung heavy in the air, mixing with the scent of spilled wine and blood.
Bodies of both cloaked invaders and brave Thorne soldiers were lying scattered as a stark testament to the brutal efficiency of the attack.
cold and sharp Fear had gripped everyone.
Dignitaries, who were usually composed and aloof, were now huddling together. Their fine clothes were torn, and their faces were pale with shock.
Some were weeping openly; others just stared blankly at the carnage.
The initial terror was slowly giving way to a volatile mix of relief and simmering anger.
Who would dare attack the Thorne household during such a celebrated event?
And why?
Lord Elmsworth's face was grim, but his voice was still steady. He came out of the initial shock soon and immediately took charge of the house.
He moved among the terrified guests, acting like a calming anchor in the storm, issuing commands and instructions to his household—"Medics"! To the injured! Thorne Guards, secure the hall! Check every shadow, every corner!"
His commands were firm but were also laced with genuine concern at the same time.
Lady Seraphina appeared pale but resolute, as she was already by his side, helping her husband to calm distraught ladies and offering what comfort she could. Her own arm, though not hurt or bleeding, was still trembling slightly from the shock.
Amidst the chaos, two distinct groups of city lords began to emerge, their voices rising above the general ruckus.
General Marcus Ironclad's face was red with fury as he pointed a trembling finger at the wreckage.
"What mockery is this, Lord Elmsworth?!
First, an assassin at lunch, now a full-blown invasion at dinner!
Is this how the Thornes protect their esteemed guests?
Is Veridia so weak that bandits can simply waltz into your castle?"
Thane Borin Stoneheart of Glimmerfall was a burly man with a perpetually suspicious gaze. He grunted in agreement, as his hand was resting on the hilt of his massive axe, from which blood was still dripping.
The shrewd and calculating First Trader Zara of Port Azure looked more concerned about the potential economic fallout, as her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Hold your tongue, General!" Lady Justice Serana of Valoria retorted in her sharp and clear voice, cutting through Marcus's bluster.
Despite her own recent injury and the exhaustion of battle, she stood tall, her gaze unwavering. "This was no random bandit attack.
This was a targeted assault, clearly aimed at the Thorne family, and by extension, all of us who stand with them.
To blame Lord Elmsworth for the malice of a hidden enemy is foolishness!"
High Druid Oakhaven of Sylvanna, who was scanning the scene with his ancient eyes, nodded slowly in agreement, "Indeed. The nature of the fel energy detected earlier, and the precision of this assault, speak of a deeper, more insidious plot. This is not a failure of security, General, but an act of calculated aggression."
Grand Scholar Elara of Solara positioned her spectacles slightly and added, "And let us not forget the swift action that saved countless lives. Had it not been for the immediate response, the outcome would have been far grimmer."
The argument intensified, taking the shape of a heated exchange of accusations and defenses.
Marcus, fueled by pride and a desire to deflect any perceived weakness from his own city-state, continued to press his point, demanding answers and reparations.
Borin muttered about the safety of trade routes, implying Veridia's instability.
Zara, though quieter than her angry, grumpy counterparts, echoed concerns about economic disruption.
Meanwhile, a different kind of murmur was spreading among the Thorne Guards and the remaining staff. They had witnessed Lorian's sudden, impossible shift in the battle.
They had heard his clear, precise commands, commands that had turned the tide.
Whispers of "the Prince's courage" and "his uncanny leadership" began to circulate.
Drengen Sihar, who was standing near Lady Serana, had rediscovered Lorian with a new, almost respectful curiosity. He had seen the young prince's eyes in the thick of the fight—a cold, strategic glint that spoke of something far beyond mere noble training.
Lorian was still feeling the adrenaline coursing through him.
But he was also acutely aware of the shifting perceptions.
He saw the admiration in the eyes of the guards and the awe in some of the younger guests.
Lady Serana, after ensuring her own well-being, approached him while casting her piercing gaze upon him.
"Prince Lorian," she said in her low but firm voice, "your quick thinking, your commands... they were extraordinary. You have a rare talent, indeed."
Lorian knew her words carried weight. He recognized her statement as a silent offer of recognition and potential alliance from a powerful figure who was also a batchmate of his mother, Lady Seraphina.
But he also felt the chill of suspicion from others.
He saw the calculating glances from some of the minor lords and the wary expressions from those who had dismissed him as an "idiot prince."
To them, his sudden display of competence was not a miracle, but rather a threat.
His transformation from a bumbling noble to a decisive leader in a single night was too sudden, too perfect.
He was no longer just a Thorne; he was an unknown variable, and some would seek to punish Veridia and him for this perceived instability.
Lord Elmsworth was keenly watching the escalating blame game and was aware of the danger it was going to bring along with it.
If the other city-states pulled their support, if they imposed a diplomatic blockade, Veridia, which was already strained by the constant threat of piracy, would be crippled.
He knew, deep down, that Cassian was behind this.
The targeted nature of the attack, the precise timing, the sheer ruthlessness—it all screamed his brother's name.
He exchanged a brief, knowing look with Lady Seraphina.
There was no proof, not yet, but their shared understanding was a silent promise: Cassian would pay. And it was only a matter of time.