The letter was delivered at night.
The messenger did not dare to look up at Kalen, but instead handed him a parchment with a golden seal, where a symbol pulsed: a crowned lion standing on a broken sword.
The words on the paper were short.
**"Kalen Lionheart.
I heard about General Velmut's death.
He was my friend and my right-hand man.
I will attend the funeral in person.
The King of Greymont is Karol Mavaris Elmhar VII."**
Kallen read it three times. The silence in the room seemed to echo. Even the shadows were silent.
"The king," Reina whispered, looking over his shoulder. "It's..."
"That's the problem," he said.
The Lionheart Palace was prepared for the funeral. Velmut's body lay in a closed coffin, wrapped in silver threads and protected by magical runes.
In the morning, when the sun touched the stained glass windows, a caravan with a golden crest appeared at the entrance. A man in a black and gold uniform, with crow feathers on his shoulders, stepped out of the front carriage. His face was young, but his eyes... his eyes were like those of an old dragon, having seen too much.
Karol Mawaris Elmhar VII.
The King of men.
The Eater of Ages.
Friend of the dead Helmut.
Behind him were three knights and a cloaked mage whose face was hidden by a mask with a seal of silence.
Kalen came out to meet him.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing formally.
Karol gave him a long look.
"You're fifteen," he said. "And you're already standing like an adult. So Velmut's blood really runs in you."
Kalen didn't respond. He just held his gaze.
The king nodded and stepped forward.
"Take me to the body."
The funeral was held in silence. Everyone understood that the king's grief should not be interrupted.
He stood alone at Velmut's coffin. No one dared to approach.
Only at the end, when the others had dispersed, did he gesture for Kallen to join him.
They sat in the old fireplace room. Two armchairs. The fire crackled.
"I've known your father since I was young. We were more than just friends—we were brothers by blood," said Karol, pouring himself a glass of wine.
Kalen was silent.
"He saved my life. In the Battle of the Red Plain. And I swore that if anything happened to him, I would take care of his kind. About his family. About his ... legacy.
The King looked up.
"But when I look at you, Kalen... I don't see Velmut.
"Of course. I am myself," Kalen replied.
Karol chuckled.
"Exactly. That's why I didn't just come to say goodbye. I came to see if you should leave Velmut's legacy... or take it for yourself."
There was a pause.
Kalen's eyes narrowed.
"A threat?"
"A test," replied Karol. "Wise kings do not kill lion cubs. But foolish ones underestimate them."
"Who are you?"
"I am the one who can destroy your family... or give it a new lease on life."
Silence. The wine in the glasses barely moves.
Karol leaned back in his seat.
"Your mother is... cunning. Too much. But she's smart enough not to confront you openly."
"I know," Kalen replied. "I already have."
"Good. Then know this.
The king stood up. His uniform shimmered with gold.
"If you break, I'll take everything. If you stand, you might become more than just the head of the family... you might become someone who changes our world."
He took one last look.
"Take care of your mother, Kalen. Not because she's weak. But because she's... very patient about killing."
And left.
After he left, Kalen sat alone for a long time. Then he summoned the shadows.
— Ward. Tirk.
"Yes, sir?"
"The king was right. It's not just about legacy. It's about power. About blood. About... me."
He clenched his fist.
"We won't just be defending ourselves. We'll be moving."
— I'm leaving the academy!"