I had been to my father’s throne room before.
Each ti, I found it so vast and tall and wide that both my eyes and mind were overwheld by the sheer grandeur of the place.
This ti was no different.
Frescoed vaults above, supported by grand columns of gold, depicted the legendary battles my family had fought and won over the generations.
Below, though no human mind could truly perceive it, the distance between the floor and the vaulted ceiling continued to subtly shrink in a way that made the throne at the other end of the room appear large enough to dwarf any human.
As a result, the man sitting upon the throne appeared even larger.
The throne itself was bathed in shadows so dark it was barely perceptible in the dim lighting of the hall, but I could still clearly see that it was designed in the shape of a roaring lion’s gaping maw.
And lounging comfortably within the mouth of that monstrous beast was my father.
Arthur Kaizer Theosbane.
Even from this distance, the man’s presence dominated the hall like a mountain that could neither be avoided nor scaled.
He was wearing a simple black tunic threaded with thin strands of gold, though simple was a generous word when the fabric itself likely cost more than a warship.
One of his legs rested casually on a plush footrest, his chin propped up lazily on one elbow.
If not for the aura that weighed upon the room like a physical force, one might have mistaken him for a bored king enjoying his afternoon.
But that was the trick with my father. He looked relaxed. The world, however, did not relax around him.
A dozen golden-armored knights lined the vast chamber below the throne, standing perfectly still like statues.
Their helts hid their expressions, but I could feel their attention snap toward the mont the doors swung open.
They... were not the only ones.
Standing tall at the base of the dais were three figures, two n and one woman, all seemingly in their early to mid-thirties.
They all had tanned skin, the color of desert sand, which sharply contrasted against the pristine white robes draped over their lean fras. And when I say lean, I an slim bodies with all muscles.
They were foreigners. Sowhere from the Southern Safe-Zone, if I had to guess.
That was the first thing I noticed about them.
The second was that none of them were kneeling, let alone even bowing their heads. That alone told everything I needed to know about their status... or their intentions.
They were also looking at the boy who had so casually barged into this tense atmosphere as if he owned the property. Which would be yours truly.
And yet again, they were still not the only ones.
On the stairs of the dais leading up to the high seat stood two more individuals.
One was a woman of near-unparalleled beauty. Her flowing golden hair frad an angular face, and the black gown she wore, which accentuated her shapely physique, only added to her bewitching charm.
She was Aunt Morgan.
Aunt Morgan was currently giving a wide-eyed look that scread: ’Oh my god, you idiot, get out!’
The other was a man who stood a half-step behind her. Tall and broad-shouldered, he was dressed in a long dark coat over a half-unbuttoned shirt that left his muscular chest exposed.
His hair was tied back in a loose knot, revealing a sharp face marked by an old scar that ran from the corner of his eye down to the base of his jaw.
That jolly guy was one of my uncles. Unlike the others, he wasn’t looking at . That was because he was palming his face.
Then there were two lines of chairs to the right and left of the high seat, five on each side.
On the left sat the old n and won. You could tell how powerful and experienced they were at a single glance.
You could also tell how ruthlessly stubborn and suspicious of change they were just by the way they held themselves — backs straight, chins lifted far too high, and eyes stern.
They were the Elders.
The true pillars of the Theosbane clan.
Conversely, the people seated on the right were younger. Not young by any ans, but far from the ancient figures opposite them.
They were three in number.
Two young won — Thalia and Calliope, seventeen and nineteen respectively. And one young man — Tristan, who was twenty-two.
They were the future of the clan.
They... were my siblings.
And right now, every single one of them was looking at . Thalia, especially, was giving a look that was a mix of horror, anger, and relief.
I... had no idea why anger was even in the mix.
What the hell did I even do to make her angry this ti? Return alive from a Death-Zone?
Sorry, was I not supposed to live?
Calliope and Tristan were looking like they were already planning a funeral.
My... funeral.
...Ah.
So this wasn’t just so casual eting.
Well, my dumbass should’ve realized it way sooner when that knight risked decapitation by physically grabbing .
But now it was too late.
I stopped a few steps into the hall as the massive doors closed behind with a deep thud that seed to reverberate through the entire chamber like a declaration of my noble presence.
For a couple of very long monts, no one spoke.
I waited and waited and waited a little more... then imdiately turned on my heel.
Nope.
I did not want any part of whatever political drama that was going on here.
...But as I said, it was too late now.
My father’s voice drifted down from the throne, booming yet low. "Stop."
...I did. With a lot of reluctance, I did.
I inhaled, cursed myself for threatening those poor guards instead of listening to them, exhaled, and then turned back around to face my father.
I was not yet anywhere near the grand dais, so in my eyes, my father was still only a dark shape amid the blackness of the shadows wreathing that great throne.
But I could clearly hear him let out an exasperated sigh.
"At least this answers the question of whether you were awake," he said, sounding just as larger than life as he looked.
A few of the elders shifted in their seats, so frowning and others scowling. Yeah, did I ntion none of those geezers liked very much?
"My apologies, Father," I said, walking until the view of my father atop the high seat was clear before inclining my head just enough to feign respect. "I was inford you were unavailable. I assud that was... flexible."
"Just take a seat," Uncle Thorax interrupted, his voice muffled by the palm still pressed to his face.
I decided to shut my mouth for the ti being and heed his advice, lowering myself onto one of the polished chairs reserved for heirs, right next to Callie.
She and I hadn’t ever talked much despite being blood-related.
That was because all true descendants of our family line possessed the signature golden eyes and hair.
But when we were little, Thalia used to follow around like a lost hatchling because she was picked on by our other siblings for having black curls. Ezra, the eldest, was particularly cruel about it.
It was all so stupid now that I look back at it.
As such, I mostly avoided everyone during my childhood, deeming them nothing but bullies.
Over ti, they grew up and lost their enmity toward Thalia, but then I beca Ezra’s target after our mother’s demise.
He openly claid he hated and that I should’ve been the dead one, not Mom. Tristan and Callie took no part in that, but they didn’t exactly defend either.
They also turned a blind eye when I was ridiculed by our cousins and vassal clan heirs for failing to awaken.
When I finally did awaken, it didn’t change much.
Most of my siblings had left the nest and their ho visits were growing thin.
That was also around the ti Thalia started distancing herself from ... the ti when I grew jealous of our father choosing her as the next head instead of .
I could tell as the years passed that Ezra was softening. The few words he threw my way here and there beca less venomous and less personal.
But he never apologized. He didn’t suddenly beco kind, nor did he go out of his way to nd the bridge between us.
So, there was always this invisible crack present between the eldest and the youngest of the Theosbanes.
My other brother and sister never made any effort either. Except Thalia. She made plenty of effort... to put down.
...Oh, well. The lack of familial love had stopped bothering a long ti ago so I won’t dwell on it.
As I finished settling in, the chamber’s atmosphere shifted from tense to awkward, then back to tense again.
My father turned his gaze toward the three foreigners.
"Now that my youngest has decided to grace us with his presence," Duke Arthur said, his voice thundering through the hall, "we may continue, Chief Qhaf."
One of the three foreigners at the base of the dais stepped forward.
He was the tallest of the group. His voice was thick with a guttural accent, like he was speaking from the back of his throat. "Then allow to repeat myself, Your Grace. Our proposal remains unchanged."
My ears perked up.
Proposal?
Oh, this had just gotten interesting.
"We request," the foreigner chief continued, "that House Theosbane relinquish its illegal claim over the Aether Claw and withdraw all stationed forces within the next thirty days."
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