Chapter 9: Invitation from the South
The dawn after battle brought quiet winds.
Caelora Hall was still standing. No blood on the walls. No flames in the sky.
But war had whispered, and Eron had answered. Now, the world was listening.
---
Eric's voice echoed from the vault's core.
> "Incoming transmission. Signal traced to: Southern Territory – Redglass Hold.
Content: Formal Summons."
Eron frowned. "Let's hear it."
A low, smooth voice played through the interface—arrogant, practiced.
> "To the Flame-Bearer of the Forgotten House…
Your presence has caused a stir. We respect ambition.
Come south, alone, and share your intent.
Refuse, and we assume you are hostile."
> —Signed, The Circle of Dominion.
Rurik spat onto the floor. "Cowards in silk. They invite you to tea and plan your burial."
Lyra looked uneasy. "But ignoring them paints a bigger target."
Eric added:
> "This 'Circle' is a growing alliance of minor houses.
Together, they control Redglass Pass — a key access route to southern trade and relic zones.
Engagement is high-risk, but isolation is worse."
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🧭 [System Prompt]
Main Quest Unlocked:
Path of the Flame – Step 2: Rise or Kneel
> Objective: Attend the Southern Summit
Travel Alone (Trust)
Bring Escort (Risk Insult)
Reject Invite (Prepare for Siege)
> Rewards: Unknown
Danger Level: Moderate to Severe
---
Eron paced the hall. His people were watching.
> "If I go, it shows strength. Or desperation."
> "If you don't go," Rurik said, "they send blades next time."
Lyra quietly offered him a black travel cloak.
> "Wear the flame. But carry steel under it."
Eron nodded.
> "I'll go. Alone. But I won't go weak."
---
Before he left, Eric uploaded a tactical emergency node to his pendant.
> [AI Echo Core – Passive Guardian Mode Installed]
One-time energy pulse to protect user during critical danger.
> "You'll be blind if I use this, right?" Eron asked.
> "Yes," Eric replied. "But alive."
---
🛡️ Redglass Hold – Two Days Later
Redglass was a fortress carved from crimson stone, glinting like a wound in the mountains.
Eron arrived under open skies, cloak flapping in the dry wind. Guards in silver masks watched him with unreadable eyes.
Inside, he was led through archways lined with gold, relic armor, and silent paintings.
He finally stood before a long black table.
Seven figures sat in shadow.
The man at the head — dark-eyed, elegant, cruel — leaned forward.
> "So… Caelora lives."
> "Caelora rises," Eron corrected.
---
The man smiled.
> "Tell me, boy… What makes you think you deserve a seat at the table?"
Eron dropped a piece of his shattered blade on the table.
> "Because I built this from nothing."
"Because I bled for the banner I carry."
"And because while the rest of you whisper in halls…"
"I fight."
Silence.
Then laughter. Cold. Dismissive.
But one figure at the end—hooded in green—spoke softly.
> "Let him speak.
The flame in his eyes is not weak."
---