Shaking with rage, Virelle stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Hours later, a hawk was released from the upper tower.
A single letter tied to its leg.
Ace watched it from the balcony.
Good.
He turned to the silent figure waiting at his side.
Harlen.
"Would you look at that," Ace said simply. "Interfered with external authority."
Harlen gave a deep, slow nod.
"She violated House law."
Ace's smile sharpened.
"Have her arrested by nightfall. And executed by sunrise with her sons"
Harlen did not flinch. "It will be done, my lord."
Ace stepped back into his chambers, the wind brushing through his hair.
One by one, the cracks were closing.
And soon, only his will would remain.
The courtroom in the imperial capital,
The high court was in session.
Sunlight filtered through towering stained-glass windows, painting multicolored light across the polished marble floor. The golden banners of the Solarian Empire swayed gently with the breath of wind that filtered through the high, open arches.
At the far end of the great hall, seated upon a raised golden throne shaped like a haloed sun, sat Emperor Aurelius Solarian, ruler of the Solarian Empire.
He sat tall, blonde, blue eyed, dressed in robes woven with starlight thread, a single sword resting at the side of the throne — ceremonial, but always sharp. His face was calm, his jaw clean-shaven, his crown modest yet absolute in presence.
Below him, the courtroom hummed with quiet diplomacy.
Representatives of the great noble houses sat in staggered crescents on either side of the central aisle. Some murmured softly to their aides, others discussed frontier skirmishes, tax disputes, or shifting trade routes.
The true lords were not all present — only a fraction of the High Families were allowed to attend unless summoned directly. But even so, the presence of any noble blood at court carried weight.
Then, the great doors opened.
A knight in imperial silver and azure strode briskly down the carpeted aisle, his armor clinking with urgency.
Everyone turned.
He dropped to one knee before the throne and held up a scroll, sealed with a broken red wax crest.
"Urgent dispatch from Thornevale, Your Radiance."
Aurelius took the letter and unfolded it.
His blue eyes scanned the letter, his face impassive at first.
Then the edges of the letter crinkled beneath his fingers.
The room held its breath.
"Grievances," he muttered. "From Virelle."
He read on.
False imprisonment. Abuse of title. Accusations of power seizure. Mentions of mana suppression, isolation, even threats of death.
The courtroom whispered.
Then Aurelius looked up from the letter. His voice was low but carried like steel in storm.
"She claims she is suppressed unjustly and might be executed because of the imperial blood flowing in her."
Gasps rang out.
"Any news..." he said, brow furrowed, "about Verelle."
His gaze shifted to the knight still kneeling before him.
"Report."
The knight lifted his head slowly. "Yes, Your Radiance. Confirmation from the outpost: Lady Virelle Thornevale and her sons were executed at dawn."
The silence was absolute.
Aurelius stood.
The stained-glass sun cast golden fire across his shoulders as his voice deepened, filled with rising fury.
"She bore imperial blood. My blood. And was cut down like a criminal by a duke's son."
The court stared, too stunned to move.
"She may have been unworthy. She may have been defiant," the Emperor continued, "but she was still of House Solarian. And her blood was spilled without sanction. Without verdict. Without honor."
He turned, face carved from wrathful stone.
"Ace Thornevale dares spill imperial blood to consolidate his power. Then let the Empire answer."
The herald beside him stepped forward.
"By the will of Emperor Aurelius Solarian," the herald proclaimed, "let it be known across the realm: Lord Ace Thornevale is hereby charged with treason against the Crown. His lands are to be seized, his person brought to this courtroom in chains, and his actions judged before the throne."
The Emperor raised a hand.
"I want him alive, broken, and here."
The knight bowed deeply. "At once, Your Radiance."
Aurelius sat once more, fury still burning beneath the surface.
"Let him learn what power means," he said quietly, more to himself than the court. "And what happens to those who forget their place beneath the sun."
The courtroom stood frozen in the wake of the emperor's thunderous verdict.
Then—
A single man stood.
He rose slowly, with no fear in his movements, his hands calmly resting behind his back. His presence drew the eye instantly — not just because he stood in defiance of the Emperor, but because of who he was.
Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in deep navy and silver — with hair the color of snow and piercing silver eyes. The blood of Thornevale ran cold and unmistakable in him.
The emblem of House Thornevale rested on his chest — a silver hawk piercing a black sun.
"Your Radiance," the man said, voice smooth and composed, but filled with quiet power. "I am Vaerin Thornevale. Representative of the Southern Wardens, Sword of the Border, and Speaker of the Thornevale Council."
All heads turned toward him.
Even Emperor Aurelius regarded him with a narrowed gaze.
"I speak not to defy Your Majesty," Vaerin continued, "but to warn you. As you consider dragging my Lord's son to the capital in chains… I ask you to consider what such a choice will cost."
The emperor did not speak, so Vaerin went on.
"House Thornevale guards the southern frontier. We are the wall between the Empire and the monsters beyond the Vinewood Expanse."
He took a step forward, voice unwavering.
"We hold the line with steel, magic, and blood. Without imperial gold. Without imperial aid. We do it because that is our duty."
His blue eyes flashed.
"But if Your Radiance deems the execution of an imperial cousin more grievous than the survival of your border…"
He let that implication hang in the air.
"Then we will no longer serve as your shield."
The courtroom stirred again — louder this time, in disbelief.
Vaerin didn't stop.
"You may bring your legions, but they won't return from the Thornevale territory"
He tilted his head slightly.
"With our war beasts, high mages, and knight legions, we may not survive a full imperial campaign. But we will drag more than half of your military into the grave with us."
Whispers turned to alarmed murmurs now.
Vaerin's voice lowered — quieter, more deadly.
"And when that happens… who will stop the monsters that roam the wild marches? Who will guard the Vinewood gates? Who will protect your villages when demons pour through the fractures?"
He paused.
"Because it will not be the court. And it will not be capital. And not the noble families present here"
"They will be hounds that will fight each other for territory and control over south "
Stillness returned like a blade drawn across the throat of the room.
Even Aurelius Solarian remained silent for a long moment, fingers tapping the gilded armrest of his throne.
The Sun Emperor's jaw tightened.
"You threaten the Crown?" he asked quietly.
Vaerin shook his head, calm and cold as snowfall.
"No," he replied. "I warn it."
Then, without bowing, without asking for leave, Vaerin turned and walked back to his seat — every step deliberate, unshaken.
And no one dared stop him.
The silence following Vaerin Thornevale's warning hung heavy in the air.
Then, at last, Emperor Aurelius Solarian stirred.
His fingers stopped tapping. He straightened on the throne, the weight of his golden mantle cascading over his shoulders like molten sunlight.
"I will take the verdict back," he said slowly.
The courtroom gasped. Some nobles leaned forward, stunned. Others turned to whisper in disbelief.
"But—" the emperor continued, voice sharp enough to cut, "—can you guarantee that Ace Thornevale won't harm my daughter?"
The words dropped like a sword point.
A hush fell. Even Vaerin paused, his expression unreadable.
Aurelius's golden eyes burned now — not with fury, but protective desperation. A ruler could sacrifice many things for the realm. But a father had only one daughter.
"We both know how the Thornevales treat weakness," the Emperor said, each word measured. "Every generation, we bind the heir to an imperial daughter. It is our pact. Our leash on your bloodline. But those women are not loved. They are... tolerated."
He stood from the throne.
"My daughter is not some pawn to be discarded. She is not a piece of currency. If I allow this—if I allow her to marry him—can you swear she will not face the same fate as your Duke's last wife? Or your Lady Virelle?"
The room was still again.
Vaerin met the Emperor's gaze.
"She will not be harmed," he said plainly, "unless she breaks the law of Thornevale."
The Emperor's jaw clenched. He knew what that meant.
The Law of Separation — the rule forbidding Thornevale spouses from contacting their own families without approval. A rule upheld so harshly it had cost the life of Ace's own mother.
He turned his gaze downward for a moment, hands folded.
He thought of his daughter.
Bright. Clever. Innocent. Raised in the palace gardens. She doesn't know war. She doesn't know Ace.
And yet, she would be sent into a world where smiles were rare and weakness was consumed.
He looked up again, his face now solemn — not as Emperor, but as Aurelius, the father.
"I want him brought here," he said. "Not in chains. Not as a prisoner. As a noble summoned by imperial order. Let me hear the truth from his own mouth."
He looked to the knight. "Send the summons. Formal. With respect."
The knight bowed.
Aurelius's voice dropped into a whisper, not meant for the court — but it carried all the same:
"If I am to sacrifice my daughter for the sake of this throne… then I will know the kind of wolf I'm feeding her to."
Thornevale training courtyard,
The clash of steel rang like thunder against the early morning mist.
Servants watched from a safe distance as Ace Thornevale, heir to the Southern Wardens, danced across the stone tiles with a blade in hand.
His movements were sharp, precise, and fluid — like wind given form.
He pivoted.
Struck.
Stepped.
Slashed.
Despite the heavy sword in his grip, not a single motion was wasted. The sword was an extension of his will — as if it had always belonged in his hand.
In truth, it hadn't.
'In my previous life,' Ace thought, 'I never even held a sword. I was behind desks. In offices. Submitting resumes. Getting blacklisted.'
But now… this body moved like it was born on the battlefield.
Born talented.
And it was.
Even in the novel, Ace Thornevale had been a monster of talent. A prodigy in combat and tactics, — so much so that the hero, despite being chosen by a goddess and growing stronger at a ridiculous pace, had taken a full year of war to finally defeat Ace in a duel.
Even then, Ace didn't go down easily.