Chapter 13: Blades in the Fog
Dawn had not yet broken.
The moon hovered over the western peaks like a dying ember, casting a pale blue hue across the stone courtyards of House Durell. Fog clung to the spires and parapets like a shroud, curling along the cobblestones, drifting into corners where shadows whispered and blades waited.
In the training yard beyond the inner wall—hidden from the view of most servants—Elias von Durell stood bare-chested, sweat streaking down the lines of his abdomen. A training spear spun in his right hand as he pivoted on his heel, thrusting the weapon forward with a burst of precision that sent a ripple of wind crackling through the mist.
His opponent was not human.
A construct, shaped like a tall armored man, bore enchanted bronze plating and fluid, rune-carved joints. Every strike it made was calculated, ruthless—programmed by the house's ancient martial codexes. It whirred forward, blade arm flashing, slicing toward Elias's chest.
He dipped low and twisted, catching the blade on the shaft of his spear before driving his elbow into the automaton's side. Sparks flew.
[System Notice: Physical Dexterity Check Passed – +0.5 DEX]
[Combat Trait Progress – Agile Footwork: 34%]
He didn't let up.
Spinning, Elias swept the automaton's legs from beneath it and pinned its chest to the stone with the butt of his spear. The construct twitched once, whirred in protest, and then powered down.
From the shadows near the colonnade, a voice clapped slowly.
"Well struck, young master."
An older man stepped forward, draped in black robes embroidered with silver vinework. He wore no sigils—only a silver chain that marked him as a steward. His face was sharp, his eyes the color of old ash.
"Rhalgar," Elias said, wiping his brow. "You're up early."
"Or perhaps I never slept."
Elias smirked. "Of course not. What is it?"
"Your father has summoned you. He waits in the Chamber of Blades."
That drew a pause.
The Chamber of Blades was rarely used. A vault beneath the estate, carved into the old stone during the Mage Wars. There, the founding Dukes made blood oaths and declared house wars. Elias narrowed his eyes.
"Is this about the summit?"
Rhalgar offered no answer, only a shallow bow.
---
House Durell – Chamber of Blades
The chamber was cold. Not from lack of warmth, but from history. Tall iron sconces lit the room with flickering witchlight. Swords of every generation lined the walls—some ceremonial, some shattered in battle, some still humming with dormant enchantments. In the center was a round table of obsidian carved with the sigils of all eleven noble houses.
Duke Maerion von Durell sat at the head. His black beard was shot with silver now, and his armor was already donned beneath a dark velvet mantle.
To his left sat two men: Lord Vareck of House Eltherin, a thin, hawk-nosed noble with pale skin and a serpent's smile, and Ser Bastian, one of the royal knights sent from the capital to observe the summit aftermath.
"Elias," the Duke said.
"Father."
"You've forced the hand of several Great Houses. House Ferrand has moved their banners to the eastern ridge. House Moreaux sent word—politely—that your challenge offended three of their court nobles. And... there was an attempt on your life last night."
"I noticed," Elias said, taking a seat.
Ser Bastian raised a brow. "You didn't report it."
"I dealt with it."
The Duke allowed himself a small smile.
Lord Vareck leaned in. "Your son's brashness has created ripples across the noble sea, Duke Maerion. If he's to be the heir, perhaps some of that fire must be tempered."
Elias met his gaze. "I find those who ask for temperance are often the first to burn."
Vareck's smile thinned.
—Surroundings—
The room thrummed with tension. The etched obsidian under Elias's fingers was warm—enchanted, no doubt. Around the chamber, stained glass windows depicted the founding of Aurellia, the first Dukes swearing fealty to the Ederlan crown, and an image of a silver lion roaring against a dragon's flame.
This was not just a room—it was history.
A space of judgment and blood.
---
Later That Day – Western Courtyard
The fog had lifted. The Durell Manor bustled with movement: servants brushing stable dust off noble coats, young cadets practicing drills in the outer bailey, and noblewomen in corseted traveling gowns exchanging glances and rumors.
Lady Yssa waited beneath the red cedar tree, her gown today a shade of violet wine, with slitted sleeves that revealed soft glimpses of skin as she moved.
"You survived the Chamber," she said, arching a brow.
"I thrive in it," Elias replied.
"You'll need more than charm and a good spear arm soon."
"I have you."
She smiled, but her gaze lingered on the eastern sky.
"You have enemies now. More than you think. House Moreaux sent riders last night. They want blood or apology."
"Then they'll get neither."
[Affection Update: Yssa Velliar – Deepened Trust: +5]
[Passive Trait Revealed – Durell Heirloom: Lion's Conviction – Reduces fear effects and increases leadership presence in noble circles]
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Closing Scene – Fog Returns
That night, Elias stood at the edge of the cliffs behind Durell Manor.
The fog had returned.
But this time, it was unnatural. It clung to his skin like breath and whispered in voices not his own.
One voice, however, was familiar.
"Awaken… blood of the sealed gate…"
His system pulsed.
[Unique System Trigger Detected – ??? Path Branching Unlocked] [Warning: Noble Path May Now Diverge]
His eyes narrowed.
"Let them come," Elias said.
The wind answered with silence.
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End of Chapter 13 –