Chapter 54: Spade Council
The moment Raven entered, warmth from the central hearth washed over him. Jacob stood beside it, tall as always, but with travel dust coating his grey overcoat and exhaustion clinging beneath his eyes. Selene stood beside him, her calm smile soft but tinged with concern.
"Welcome back." Raven stepped closer to the hearth, warmth brushing against his face, and took the chair nearest the flames.
"Greetings, My Lord."
Jacob and Selene bowed in unison.
Selene stepped forward first. A faint citrus scent trailed from her as she offered a spatial ring with both hands. Her eyes held a glimmer of suppressed excitement.
"The auctioning of Mind of Insight exceeded expectations, My Lord." She spoke with practiced calm, but her tone betrayed the thrill beneath. "Lady Anastasia sent previous batches to several influential figures. That caused a surge of interest among noble youths. Even a disciple of Alchemist Johnathan attended the auction and purchased ten potions. The appearance of a 'Unique' potion drew enough attention that the press got involved."
She reached into her handbag, withdrew a folded newspaper, flipped it open, and pointed to a column buried in the middle page.
Raven leaned forward.
Newsprint ink smudged faintly under her pale finger. Ravenshield Family Congratulated for Discovery of New Potion.
"Oh?" A small smile tugged at his lips. "I didn't expect it to reach the papers. Even if they credited the Ravenshields… it's still good."
Selene nodded and continued smoothly.
"That is why we divided the potions into four batches. Each sold at an average of twelve thousand gold. After ten percent to Lady Anastasia and another ten percent in direct tax, the total profit stands at three hundred sixty-four thousand eight hundred."
Jacob stepped forward and added, "We purchased thirty sets of potion materials for six thousand gold. So, three hundred fifty-eight thousand eight hundred remain inside the ring."
He retrieved a document from his worn Gladstone bag and placed it gently in Raven's hand.
"This is the fake debt contract of one hundred twenty thousand gold, My Lord. Lady Anastasia asked why you needed it, so we told her it related to resolving a personal land issue."
Raven rose from the chair, pocketing the document.
"Good work. Rest for today. Tomorrow will be long."
"Yes, My Lord."
The two bowed again and disappeared through the hall.
Silence settled. Then Raven turned on his heel and headed for the alchemy room.
He spent hours there, surrounded by the familiar scent of herbs, mana-infused gases, and bubbling glassware—concocting ten fresh Mind of Insight potions. When he finally returned to his bedroom, twilight had painted the sky purple.
He sat on the edge of his bed, thoughts tightening around him like threads.
Holmes House is still a Knight Family. We can only hold a fief with approval from a true noble.
Before, the Holmes Family pledged loyalty to Count Spade. Azmar Town and its nearby lands belong to us on paper—but I still need his approval to reclaim them.
He leaned back, eyes narrowing.
I could bypass him and declare myself a Pioneer Knight… but that would drag trouble straight to my doorstep. Better to make a good impression first. I still owe him a promise in the letter.
A faint smile touched his lips.
Once he sees this potion, he'll understand the Ravenshield Family stands behind me. That alone will silence every doubter.
He summoned the Frozen Ender, its cold edge shimmering with a thin veil of frost, and stepped into the illusionary world.
The next morning—8 A.M.
Raven descended the split staircase in formal black attire. The polished banister reflected his sharp silhouette as he noticed Jacob, Selene, and Quincy lined up in the hall. Their clothing was crisp, their faces solemn. All ready.
Emanuel hurried over, clutching a file like it was a fragile artifact.
"The carriage is ready for departure, My Lord."
"When does the Council begin?" Raven asked as they crossed toward the mansion entrance.
"Ten-thirty A.M., My Lord. The meeting will be at Havan Manor. Fifteen minutes from Bristol Street." Emanuel flipped a page.
Raven stepped into the carriage. Jacob, Selene, and Quincy followed, sitting opposite him. Emanuel squeezed in beside Raven, fingers tightening nervously around the file.
As wheels creaked and the carriage rolled forward, Raven parted the curtain.
"Who will attend the Council?"
Emanuel straightened and read.
"The Spade Council consists of seventeen true Noble Households and thirty Knight Households with fiefs. Count Spade presides. Five Barons and four Viscounts are elite members. They function like elders—most major decisions require their vote."
Raven nodded lightly.
Emanuel swallowed before continuing.
"There are two topics concerning the Holmes Family today. First—the distribution of Holmes Family wealth due to unpaid debt and interest to Crest Merchandise. If the Royal Bank account lacks the funds, then—"
"I know." Raven sighed. "The executors of my father's will plan to sell the Wine Factory to Crest Merchandise."
Emanuel continued in a heavier tone.
"The second topic is whether the Holmes Family will retain its position in the Spade Council. If five of the nine elite members vote against us, our membership will be permanently revoked."
Raven's jaw tightened. "How many total members are there?"
"Eight Baronet Households and thirty Knight Households, My Lord. Families such as the Sinclares, Amells, Wills, Humphreys, Palmers… and Holmes."
Raven's brows furrowed. "Tell me about the elite members."
Emanuel obliged.
"Baron Thorne of Ironspire… He owns seven cotton mills, two wine factories, and many shops in Giaris City. He governs four small towns and one city of seventy thousand."
Raven's eyes widened slightly.
That's nearly the same power as Baron Alexander…
"Continue."
Emanuel flipped to the next sheet.
"Baroness Elara of Shadowfen… three coal mines, two iron smelters, and a spice trading company. She rules three medium towns and fertile farmlands."
"Baron Roland of Stormwatch… five large towns and a chain of warehouses."
"Baroness Isolde of Silvermere… a lakeside city of eighty thousand and three towns."
"Baron Gideon of Frostvale… six lumber mills, paper factories, and a fur business overseeing a snowy city of thirty thousand."
"Viscount Alaric Hawkspire… six towns of ten thousand each, plus two cities—seventy-five thousand and one hundred thousand. He controls three iron mines and four steel mills."
"Viscountess Rowena Stormwatch… five towns and two bustling cities."
"Viscount Thorian Valeheart… four towns and two agricultural cities."
"Viscountess Isabeau Nightshade… four towns, a mining city, and a cultural hub of one hundred thousand."
Raven absorbed the names and numbers in silence.
Each of them could buy the Holmes Family ten times over…
And the one above all—Count Spade—rules more than ten small towns and three major cities. Giaris alone has one million people.
A weight pressed onto Raven's shoulders, but his gaze only grew sharper.
The carriage slowed.
Jacob opened the door.
"We have arrived, My Lord."
Raven stepped down from the carriage, his black boots tapping softly against the cobblestones. A crisp morning breeze brushed against his coat as he lifted his gaze to Havan Manor.
The building loomed over the street like a sleeping giant—walls carved from pale white stone, adorned with noble emblems etched along its pillars. The massive arched doorway cast a long shadow over the path ahead.
Emanuel hurried forward and opened the wrought-iron gate, revealing a walkway lined with trimmed hedges and marble statues of long-dead nobles. Jacob, Quincy, and Selene followed behind Raven, steps steady, faces unreadable.
As they neared the entrance, two guards in blue uniforms stepped forward with rifles crossed, blocking the way.
"Your invitation, sir."
The taller one spoke, tone firm but courteous.
Emanuel handed over a smooth, rolled parchment sealed with the Holmes crest. The guard checked it briefly, nodded, and signaled his partner to open the doors.
The golden-inlaid doors creaked apart, releasing a faint breath of old incense and polished wood.
Raven inhaled and stepped into the foyer.
Black-and-white marble tiles gleamed beneath his feet, reflecting the light from the massive crystal chandelier dangling overhead. The ceiling—arched and vaulting—was lined with murals depicting past victories and noble gatherings.
Men and women in fine formal attire drifted across the space like swans on still water. Their voices blended into a soft, indistinct hum. A few turned to observe Raven, rare curiosity flickering in their eyes.
Emanuel guided him through a side corridor.
"You know the way well," Raven murmured.
Emanuel shook his head. "No, My Lord. A friend shared the layout with me."
Raven offered a faint nod before turning toward the heavy oak doors ahead. A crowd of servants and guards lingered outside, talking quietly.
A tall man clad in silver armor stepped forward, blocking the group's path.
"Only members of the Spade Council may enter."
Raven blinked. The man looked like he had stepped straight out of the Rune Age—his armor engraved with swirling runes, each piece shimmering faintly.
[Oh? A genuine Aether Armor Set, lad.]
Zera's voice clicked in his mind.
[Every piece on him is an artifact.]
Raven adjusted his monocle and scanned the equipment.
Rare Rank plate armor… Uncommon amulet… Three rings—two Uncommon, one Rare. Boots better than mine. Rare helm. Uncommon gauntlets. A Rare-rank sword.
Each uncommon artifact cost at least ten thousand gold.
Rare ones? Eighty to a hundred thousand.
[Rank-3 Aether Rune Set. His strength should be Intermediate Expert Realm.]
Raven kept his face steady, though something cold tightened around his chest.
'How strong is an Expert Knight?'
[Hmm… it usually takes seven or eight Knights just to bring down a Magical Beast of the same rank. But with this armor? Two would be enough.]
Zera continued breezily.
[The armor self-repairs. It boosts natural regeneration like constant healing potion injections. The Rare ring has a Rank-3 Wind Shield spell. The helm has Rank-2 Vision of Clarity. The sword has 100% Extra Sharpness. The amulet carries Aura of Courage. The boots have Rank-2 Invisibility.]
Raven swallowed.
'How much gold did the Count invest in one Knight?'
[Around five hundred thousand gold coins.]
Raven almost staggered.
'Five hundred thousand—?!'
[Barons earn around eighty to a hundred thousand a month. Viscounts, two to three hundred thousand. A Count with a million-population city and multiple towns? One to 1.5 million gold per month.]
Raven inhaled sharply.
'If I make a hundred Mind of Insight potions and sell them—maybe I could match that…'
[You're treating wizards like idiots, kid.] Zera scoffed.
[Why do you think Anastasia sent earlier batches to important figures before auctioning the next? She wasn't helping you.]
Raven froze.
'Jonathan already created the Legendary Elixir of Insight. He could easily make a weaker version! Instead, he sent his disciple to see my potion… to copy it.'
Zera clicked her tongue.
[Exactly. And someone has been buying ingredients in bulk. The Ravenshields know the recipe already. They'll craft a similar potion in six months. Johnathan's disciple? Ten months, maybe a year. Your potion's demand will drop to a fraction.]
'My profit per potion will fall to… maybe a thousand gold.'
[Correct. But this exposure is necessary. Without it, you'd need decades to gather enough money to rebuild your territory.]
Raven grimaced.
'Then I need to buy more ingredients and brew more batches. Fast.'
[And tell Jacob to buy ingredients from different shops now.]
The silver-armored guard finished inspecting his badge and spatial ring. His eyes softened—not with pity, but with faint respect.
"You may enter, Sir Thomas."
Raven nodded at Jacob, Selene, Quincy, and Emanuel.
"You all wait here."
He stepped into the chamber.
Warm wooden walls swallowed the noise instantly.
The scent of ink, parchment, and aged oak lingered in the air.
A wide round table dominated the chamber. Nobles filled the room—some talking quietly, others whispering, a few sharing curt nods. Servants in neat uniforms stood behind their seats.
Count Spade's trusted staff… And I don't know a single one of them.
Yet Raven felt eyes on him—many eyes.
Some watched with thinly veiled disdain.
Others with curiosity.
A few with barely disguised hostility.
As he approached the table, a deep voice rang out:
"Oh, Young Master—oops, Lord Thomas. I didn't think you'd actually show up."
Raven turned.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark green doublet smirked at him, silver embroidery glinting on his sleeves. Sharp blue eyes evaluated him with mocking amusement.
Richard Palmer.
The same man who forced Walter to sell the wine factory.
Raven's gaze turned cold.
"It would be foolish to skip a meeting where my family's future is being decided, wouldn't you agree… Mr. Palmer?"
A tiny crack appeared in Richard's smirk before he shrugged, feigning indifference.
"Indeed. I admire your… resilience."
Raven brushed past him and took his assigned seat. Emanuel had explained the arrangement:
Knight Households sat at the outer ring.
Baronets closer.
Barons and Viscounts in the inner circle.
And Count Spade—center, slightly elevated.
As Raven settled in, he glanced around.
Baroness Elara conversed quietly with Viscountess Rowena.
Viscount Hawkspire listened intently as Baron Gideon discussed a border issue.
Count Spade remained silent, watching all with a calm, unreadable gaze.
At exactly 10:30, Spade rose.
"Esteemed members of the Spade Council," he said, voice deep enough to cut through every whisper. "Let us begin."
Mining disputes.
Trade route arguments.
Territory conflicts.
For hours, Raven watched the ebb and flow of authority—Barons and Viscounts commanding every decision, Knight households barely able to slip in a sentence before being overshadowed.
At last, Count Spade reached the final document.
"Holmes Family case… hm."
He lifted the page.
"Crest Merchandise has accused the Holmes Household of failing to repay their debt. On 12th November, Year 1404, Walter Holmes borrowed fifty thousand gold at eight percent interest. He then misused his authority as a noble and refused to pay for years."
A cold voice cut across the room.
"Didn't Walter Holmes die two years ago in the train accident? Why bring this up now?"
Raven turned slightly.
A woman with silver hair, sharp blue eyes, and a face carved from ice stared at Count Spade.
Viscountess Rowena Stormwatch.
Her presence alone chilled the air.
Richard Palmer rose from his seat with the smooth confidence of someone who believed the room belonged to him.
"That's because Walter promised to return the money with interest in sixteen years, My Lady," he said, voice oily. "He even wrote a specific date."
Viscountess Rowena's expression tightened. "And today happens to be the final date?"
Her annoyance was barely hidden—she'd clearly dealt with too many forged-debt tricks over the years.
Count Andres simply shrugged and continued reading the document before him. His voice echoed across the chamber.
"After calculating the interest—eight percent on fifty thousand gold coins—the Council hereby orders the Holmes Family to pay one hundred fourteen thousand gold coins by this evening to Crest Merchandise."
He shifted his gaze to the wall clock on the left.
"It's already evening, isn't it?" A faint amusement tugged his lips.
He glanced back at the document.
"If the current heir cannot repay the total amount plus accumulated interest, the Spade Council has the right to confiscate all Holmes Family property and transfer it to Crest Merchandise, approved by the Executors of Walter Holmes's Will. Article sixty-nine, Clause twelve of Property Law states that the Executors may fulfill outstanding debts in place of the heir."
He lifted his head and locked eyes with Raven.
"Do you have anything to say, Thomas?"