The sun hung low as Achilles Verentis and his convoy approached the familiar lands of the Verentis Duchy. After twenty years on the border, the soil of home should have felt comforting beneath his feet. But instead of peace, a strange weight settled in his chest.
The gates of the duchy opened slowly, creaking with the rust of neglect. The once bustling roads were nearly silent, save for the hollow sound of hooves against cobblestone. Achilles, mounted atop a black warhorse draped in the sigils of House Verentis, scanned the surroundings with sharp, observant eyes.
Something was wrong.
Everywhere he looked, there were signs of decline. Children with sunken cheeks and ragged clothes sat against the walls of crumbling homes. The marketplace, once filled with vibrant banners and vendors shouting prices, was now quiet—several stalls abandoned or ransacked. What traders remained sold scraps, their expressions gaunt with desperation.
Behind him rode Kael, General Darius of the Verentis Elite, and a small honor guard of veterans who had served with Achilles through fire and blood. Their faces also reflected unease at the sight.
"This doesn't make sense," Kael muttered. "The Verentis duchy was self-sustaining. Rich soil, loyal people. Where did this rot come from?"
"Not natural," Darius growled. "This is orchestrated. Someone's been draining this place dry."
Achilles narrowed his gaze as they passed a group of young women kneeling near a dry fountain. Their eyes met his, wide with a mix of awe and despair. He could hear the whispers:
"Is that... Lord Achilles?"
"Could it be true? He lives?"
"Will he save us?"
Achilles said nothing at first, though his jaw clenched tightly. Then, after a moment, he dismounted and turned to one of the guards clad in a plain black cloak—the hidden blade of the Verentis family. A shadow operative trained in espionage and assassination.
"Go," Achilles ordered. "I want eyes on the estate. Discreetly. I don't care if you have to slit a few throats to find the truth. Report back before sundown."
The agent nodded once and vanished into the alleyways like a ghost.
Turning to his men, Achilles gave a curt nod. "The rest of us will make our way to the heart of the duchy. Speak to the people. See what they've been too afraid to say. Something foul is festering here, and I intend to burn it out."
Kael frowned. "Are you sure we shouldn't go straight to the estate? Your parents—"
"If they are well, they'll understand. If they're not..." Achilles' voice dropped, steel laced in each word. "Then I need to know who failed them."
---
As they made their way deeper into the duchy, signs of mismanagement and exploitation became even more evident. Nobles' manors stood pristine while the homes of commoners crumbled. Soldiers wearing the crest of the capital, not House Verentis, patrolled the streets with a strange sense of arrogance.
In the town square, Achilles stopped at a public bulletin board—once used for festivals and town-wide declarations. It was now littered with new laws, heavy taxes, and decrees signed not by Caldus or Irelya Verentis, but by a regent Achilles did not recognize.
Kael tore one from the board. "This name... Duke Halven. Installed two years ago by royal command. Temporary steward 'until Lord Achilles returns or is officially declared dead.'"
Achilles' brows furrowed. "Declared dead?"
"They gave up on you," Darius said darkly. "Or someone pushed them to."
Achilles stared at the decrees for a long moment before turning away. The scent of something rotten lingered in the air—corruption, betrayal, and cowardice wrapped in noble garb.
"This land has waited long enough," he said. "We ride for the estate."
A voice broke through the tension.
"My lord!"
A bent old man with milky eyes and a familiar limp hobbled from the alley. Achilles dismounted again to meet him halfway.
"Old Man Derik," Achilles said softly, recognizing one of the estate's oldest groundskeepers.
"I knew it," Derik rasped with tears forming. "I told them you'd come back. The people—they whispered, but I never lost hope."
"Tell me," Achilles said, gripping the man's shoulder. "My parents—are they alive?"
Derik looked down, his lips trembling. "I—I don't know. I haven't seen them in nearly a year. After the capital men came and declared a regent, everything changed. They locked down the estate. Only certain people go in and out now."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Just like we feared."
Achilles clenched his fists, his voice quiet. "Then it's time we find out what truly happened."
The group moved as one, horses galloping past broken homes and silent onlookers. The duchy would have its reckoning. And Achilles Verentis would not rest until the truth was laid bare beneath his boots.