The dungeon beneath the estate was colder than the border's harshest winters. Lit only by the flicker of a single torch, its damp stone walls echoed the slow steps of Achilles Verentis as he descended. With every step, memories flooded his mind—memories of the home he once knew, the family he left behind to protect the kingdom.
Behind him followed Kael and Skotos, silent sentinels in the heavy quiet. They reached the final cell, where two frail yet dignified figures sat chained—Caldus and Irelya Verentis. The former Duke and Duchess.
Achilles paused, his breath catching in his throat.
"Father... Mother..."
Caldus looked up, eyes wide, then shining. "Achilles... Is it truly you?"
Irelya stood shakily, her chains clinking, and rushed forward as far as the restraints allowed. "My son—our son—!"
Achilles didn't hesitate. He stormed to the wall, shattered the lock with a punch enhanced by mana, and caught his mother in his arms. Irelya sobbed into his shoulder as Caldus, despite his weakened state, embraced them both.
"We thought we might never see you again," Caldus murmured.
Achilles gritted his teeth. "I should have come sooner."
"No, my boy," Caldus said firmly. "You did what none in this kingdom dared—you protected the realm. You fulfilled your duty."
"But I was blind to what happened here," Achilles muttered. "For twenty years I fought, thinking you were safe. I even thought the duchy remained in good state... because we were still getting supplies from you—consistently—even during my final year at the border."
He stepped back slightly, frowning. "The porters—the couriers who delivered them—they never said anything about your condition. I thought no news was good news."
Caldus nodded solemnly. "That was intentional."
Achilles narrowed his eyes. "Wh-what do you mean?."
Irelya gently took his hand. "When we realized our communications might be intercepted, we decided to separate the source of the supplies from the duchy itself. We routed all provisions through a nearby county under a trusted vassal's name—outside of the Marestel's influence."
"Only at night," Caldus added. "The supplies were smuggled out and passed off to different carriers. No insignia of Verentis. No paper trails. We even altered the funds through isolated ledgers. It was the only way."
"We knew Duke Maren and his allies in the court were watching us," Irelya whispered. "We feared if they learned we were still supporting you, they'd cut you off... or worse."
Achilles clenched his fists. "So the funding was separated from the duchy itself?"
"Yes," Caldus confirmed. "When it became clear that the royal court was no longer on your side, we used our personal coffers. Your war effort was fueled directly from what little autonomy we had left."
Achilles' gaze grew distant for a moment. The sleepless nights, the frostbitten men, the battles where every ration counted… and yet, supplies always came. Now he knew why.
"They tried to isolate me," he muttered, "but you... you ensured I endured."
Caldus straightened, pride overcoming his fatigue. "You are our son. We'd give the last stone of this house to see you safe."
Achilles took a deep breath, nodding.
"Then... there's something else," Irelya said, hesitantly.
Achilles turned to her. Her lips trembled before she could speak.
"You have a sister, Achilles."
He blinked. "What?"
"Her name is Serenya," Caldus said. "She's ten years old now. Born after you were sent to the border. We never mentioned her in letters... we wanted her to be a surprise when you returned."
Irelya's eyes welled up again. "But when Duke Maren rose in power... he took her. Used her as leverage when we refused to yield the estate. That's why we were imprisoned."
Achilles staggered a step backward. "He took... my sister?"
"She was last seen being escorted to House Marestel's inner estate," Skotos confirmed from the shadows. "I've already begun searching for leads."
Kael growled. "They'll pay."
Achilles turned to his men, his presence now sharp and dangerous like the blade at his hip. "We're not done."
"And there's one more thing," Caldus said. "Near the southeastern hills—there's a mana stone vein. A mine. It was recently discovered... just before we were overthrown."
Achilles looked up sharply.
Irelya nodded. "Word must have leaked. The value of mana stones is beyond gold. That discovery alone would have given House Verentis untouchable strength. Which made us a target."
Kael cursed. "That explains everything. The silence. The prison. The attack on the duchy."
Achilles' expression hardened like forged steel. "All for power. All for stones."
"We don't know how many houses were involved," Irelya warned. "But it wasn't just Maren."
Achilles turned to Skotos. "Get everything on the mine. Who's moved on it. Who's funded it. And who's tried to claim it."
He then turned back to his parents.
"You gave me strength when the kingdom abandoned me. Now it's my turn."
He reached forward, holding both their hands tightly.
"By my name, I will get her back. And I will burn everything they've built on our suffering."
His voice rang with the weight of twenty years of war—and the fury of a brother and son who had lost too much.