The moonlight cast a pale sheen across the ruined halls of the Verentis estate. Once a bastion of noble legacy, the walls now echoed with blood-soaked vengeance and steel. Achilles stood amidst the bodies of Marestel guards, his blade dripping crimson. The banners of House Verentis once again fluttered in the night, reclaimed by its rightful heir—but this was no victory. Not yet.
The dungeons beneath the estate had been cracked open, and from within, Achilles had pulled out the broken yet proud forms of his parents, Duke Caldus and Duchess Irelya. Bruised, gaunt, but alive. He had embraced them both with trembling arms, and for a moment, the wrath in him had subsided. But then came the truth.
"I wanted to surprise you," Irelya whispered tearfully. "Your sister... Lira. She's ten now. We never told you in our letters because we wanted it to be a gift when you came home."
Achilles froze. A sister?
"But... she's gone," Caldus muttered, fists clenched. "Taken. By House Marestel. It was why they imprisoned us. We refused to yield her location when we fled the estate during the coup. They hunted us... and they found her."
The fires of war in Achilles' chest turned to ice. He felt a rage deeper than any battlefield had ever summoned.
---
Inside the dimly lit great hall, Duke Maren of House Marestel knelt, bloodied and trembling. The prideful arrogance he wore when first captured had withered in the face of Achilles' cold silence.
Earlier, Maren had scoffed even with a blade at his throat.
"You think killing me solves your problems?" Maren spat, chin high. "Strike me down, and House Marestel will descend upon you like vultures. My family won't let this slide. The new King owes my house a great debt—you're no hero anymore, Verentis. You're a threat. You'll be branded a traitor before sunrise."
Achilles didn't speak.
"You have no allies in court. No titles. Just blood on your hands and vengeance in your heart. You've won back a tomb, not a duchy!"
But when Achilles looked at him, Maren faltered.
There was no anger in Achilles' expression. No fury. Only a still, ruthless gaze that froze Maren's tongue.
"You're bluffing," Maren said more weakly. "You wouldn't dare kill me. Not now. Not with what's at stake. We can make a deal. A negotiation. You want your family safe, don't you?"
Achilles stepped forward. "I want my sister."
The silence in the hall was louder than a storm.
"I know you have her. And I know your house is involved. You and your ilk are snakes. You slither through the court, steal lands, forge lies, and think your gold buys loyalty."
"I—I didn't take her," Maren stammered. "It was others! My cousins—my house acts in branches, I swear it—"
Achilles raised his hand.
"Then you'll be useful," he said quietly. "You'll write them. Call them here. Arrange an exchange. My sister… for your head."
Maren's eyes widened. "You—what?"
"I'll let you live. For now. Long enough to bring her back to me. Fail… and I'll show the rest of your house what beheading a noble looks like in the streets they thought they owned."
The duke fell to his knees fully, pale and breathless.
Achilles turned away from him and spoke to Skotos, who emerged from the shadows like smoke.
"Watch him. If he tries anything, take a finger. Then the tongue."
Skotos bowed. "Understood."
Kael approached. "You're letting him live?"
"For now," Achilles said. "Because politics are rot. Because I'm tired of playing by their rules."
He glanced to the night sky through a shattered window.
"This time, we play by mine."
---
Outside, the people of the duchy had gathered—poor, starving, beaten—but now with hope burning in their eyes. Word was spreading that House Verentis had returned. The rightful duke had survived.
Achilles emerged onto the steps of the estate, his armor darkened with battle. He looked down on the crowd. He had spent twenty years keeping their enemies at bay, bleeding for borders most had never seen. But the true threat had always been within.
He didn't speak to them that night. He simply stood there as the flames from the estate's old towers lit the sky—an omen of reclamation.
He had saved the border. Now he would save his family.
And if the kingdom dared to stand in his way again… then Valeriand itself would remember the name Achilles Verentis.