The conference hall had not felt this heavy in years.
Not since war councils—real ones.
The long table was filled, yet no one spoke. Even the torches burned lower, as if aware that this was not a meeting meant for noise.
Reinhardt stood at the center.
Not in armor.
In uniform.
A choice.
"I will not speak as Knight General," he said at last. "I will speak as a man who commands those who die first."
Eyes lifted.
"My men saw something on that battlefield," Reinhardt continued. "Not strength. Not luck."
He paused.
"Certainty."
A murmur rippled.
"When Lord Leon stepped forward," Reinhardt said, "the undead withdrew. Not because they were defeated—but because they understood the gap between them and him."
Selene leaned forward.
Reinhardt's voice sharpened.
"Power like that does not invite war," he said. "It prevents it."
That landed.
A knight nodded unconsciously.
"A hero standing at the front tells enemies one thing," Reinhardt continued. "Attack, and you will die."
Selene seized the moment.
"That's exactly what I'm saying," she said, fire magic flickering faintly. "If Leon is known—if his strength is undeniable—no necromancer, no rival house, no foreign power will dare touch Valierous."
She looked around the table.
"How many soldiers died because we hid him?"
Silence bit back.
Then—
Aurelia spoke.
"No," she said calmly.
The word cut sharper than a shout.
Reinhardt turned toward her.
"No," Aurelia repeated. "You misunderstand the world."
She rose slowly, frail frame steady, eyes unwavering.
"A hero does not end war," she said. "A hero redefines it."
Selene scoffed. "That's—"
"History," Aurelia interrupted.
The room stilled.
"When a hero appears," Aurelia continued, "armies do not retreat. They adapt. They plot. They send assassins instead of soldiers."
Reinhardt frowned.
"Fear is a shield," he argued. "We wield it."
"Fear is a challenge," Aurelia replied. "And challenges attract those who wish to be remembered."
She looked directly at Reinhardt.
"Do you truly believe the world will see Leon and decide to be peaceful?"
Reinhardt hesitated.
Selene did not.
"Yes," she said. "Because heroes are symbols. Symbols end conflicts before they start."
Aurelia turned to her sister.
"And symbols are owned," she said quietly. "By courts. By empires. By gods, if need be."
The word gods chilled the room.
"If Leon becomes a hero," Aurelia said, "he stops being our brother."
Selene's jaw tightened.
"He stops being free," Aurelia finished.
A knight slammed his fist lightly on the table.
"So what? We hide him while others bleed?"
Aurelia didn't flinch.
"We bleed so he doesn't have to," she said. "That was the choice Father made. That I continue to make."
All eyes drifted—slowly—to the head of the table.
The Baron did not move.
He did not speak.
His silence weighed heavier than any verdict.
Reinhardt exhaled slowly.
"Then answer me this, Lady Aurelia," he said. "If war comes again—and it will—do we wait until the last moment? Until the line nearly breaks again?"
Aurelia met his gaze.
"Yes."
The word fell like a sentence.
Selene stood abruptly.
"This isn't protection," she said, voice trembling with anger. "It's fear."
Aurelia replied softly.
"No," she said. "This is love."
The room divided—not loudly, not openly.
But the fracture was there.
Reinhardt straightened.
"Then this council is not finished," he said. "Not tonight. Not tomorrow."
Aurelia inclined her head.
"I know."
The Baron closed his eyes.
Still silent.
Still watching.
Outside the hall, rumors already moved faster than decisions.
And Leon Valierous—
Remained unaware.
Or worse.
Unconcerned.
Rumors did not spread.
They leaked.
A soldier told his brother.
A knight drank too much and spoke too freely.
A merchant noticed the elite undead retreating instead of pressing the attack.
By morning, the estate felt different.
People lowered their voices when the name Valierous was spoken. Guards stood straighter. Messengers arrived more frequently—and left more cautiously.
Something had happened.
No one knew what.
But everyone felt it.
Inside the manor, Aurelia moved first.
Orders went out quietly. Rotations were changed. Witnesses were reassigned. Casualty reports were edited—carefully, truth preserved, emphasis removed.
"Nothing extraordinary occurred," became the official line.
Reinhardt noticed immediately.
"They're already talking," he said to Selene, watching a pair of junior knights whisper before snapping to attention. "You can't bury this."
Selene crossed her arms, irritation flickering across her face.
"Then stop trying," she said. "Let it spread. Let people know Valierous isn't defenseless."
Reinhardt nodded.
"Fear will travel faster than truth."
That was when Leon stepped outside.
Literally.
Leon walked through the inner courtyard in loose clothes, hair unbound, yawning as if the world had not nearly ended the night before.
Servants froze.
Guards straightened too sharply.
Leon paused, glanced around, and frowned.
"…Why is everyone so stiff?" he asked no one in particular.
A maid dropped a tray.
Leon stepped around it and kept walking.
That alone did more damage than any proclamation.
By noon, the rumor had changed.
The heir walked through the aftermath like it meant nothing.
By afternoon:
The heir is bored of battles.
By evening:
The heir of Valierous crushed the undead commander and returned to his nap.
Aurelia heard the last one and closed her eyes.
Too fast.
Selene heard it and smiled.
Good.
Neither noticed Leon sitting on the roof.
Leon lay flat against warm tiles, staring at the sky.
"…What a pain," he muttered.
He could feel it.
Eyes.
Not watching him.
Weighing him.
The estate was noisy in the wrong way.
He sighed and rolled onto his side.
"If you're going to whisper," he said lazily, "at least don't make it boring."
A nearby servant flinched.
The words spread anyway.
By nightfall, messengers from minor houses arrived with gifts. "Congratulations" disguised as courtesy. "Condolences" masked as concern.
Reinhardt saw opportunity.
"They're already acknowledging him," he argued in the council chamber. "If we don't shape the story, someone else will."
Selene leaned forward.
"Let Leon appear," she said. "Once. That's all it takes."
Aurelia's response was immediate.
"No."
She stood, hands clasped tightly.
"Every step into light is one step away from control."
Reinhardt met her gaze.
"You're already losing it."
That was when Leon walked in.
Late.
Barefoot.
Uninterested.
He glanced around the tense room.
"…Why does this feel louder than the battlefield?" he asked.
Silence.
Selene saw her chance.
"Leon," she said smoothly, "people are talking about you."
Leon raised an eyebrow.
"That's their mistake."
Reinhardt spoke carefully.
"You could stop future wars," he said. "With your presence alone."
Leon stared at him.
Then smiled faintly.
A cold, lazy curve of the lips.
"…That's the dumbest thing I've heard today."
The room stiffened.
"If you want to scare people," Leon continued, "be unpredictable. Heroes are predictable."
Aurelia's heart sank.
Selene frowned.
Reinhardt narrowed his eyes.
Leon turned to leave.
"Oh," he added over his shoulder, "if you're going to argue about me—do it quieter. You're ruining my naps."
He left.
The damage was done.
Selene's faction saw him as untapped glory.
Aurelia's saw him as a ticking disaster.
And Leon—
Leon had just proven one thing.
He would not belong to either side.
Outside the estate walls, far away—
A letter was sealed.
Valierous possesses an anomaly.
Excellent fix.
This is the perfect hinge chapter: ideology → pressure → forced choice.
No action. No Leon flexing. Just truth threatening to surface.
Below is a clean, tense chapter that ends the buildup and locks the story into motion.
Conference Arc — Chapter III
The Weight of a Name
The rumors had stopped being rumors.
They had shape now.
Questions arrived wrapped in courtesy. Gifts came with expectation. Messengers lingered longer than necessary.
Someone, somewhere, wanted confirmation.
The conference hall was sealed.
Doors shut. Guards posted inside.
No servants.
No witnesses.
Reinhardt stood before the table again—but this time, he wasn't alone.
Half the room leaned toward him.
The other half toward Aurelia.
Selene sat between them, fingers drumming slowly, fire magic flickering faintly with her mood.
"We're past containment," Reinhardt said. "You can feel it. Every house within a week's ride is watching us."
A knight spoke up. "They're asking the same question."
"What question?" Aurelia asked calmly.
Reinhardt met her gaze.
"Does Valierous possess a hero?"
The word hung in the air.
Selene leaned forward. "And if we say yes?"
Reinhardt didn't hesitate.
"They think twice before marching. They hesitate before scheming. Fear becomes our wall."
Aurelia shook her head.
"And we become a target," she replied. "A symbol invites challengers. And challengers do not come alone."
Selene's eyes hardened.
"So we lie?" she asked. "After the undead retreated? After soldiers watched it happen?"
Aurelia answered evenly.
"Yes."
The room stirred.
Reinhardt frowned. "A lie that large won't hold."
"It doesn't have to," Aurelia replied. "It only has to buy time."
"Time for what?" Selene snapped.
"For him to choose," Aurelia said.
The doors opened.
A single guard stepped in and knelt.
"Lady Aurelia," he said. "A messenger."
The room went still.
"From where?" Reinhardt asked.
"Multiple houses," the guard replied. "And… one imperial seal."
Selene exhaled sharply.
"Send him in."
The messenger entered.
Dusty cloak. Controlled posture. Eyes sharp.
He bowed once.
"I am here to confirm a report," he said plainly.
No ceremony.
No pleasantries.
"During the recent undead assault," the messenger continued, "a figure matching the description of Lord Leon Valierous engaged and neutralized a high-ranking undead commander."
He looked around the room.
"Is this true?"
Silence.
All eyes turned—instinctively—to Aurelia.
Then to Reinhardt.
Then to Selene.
The Baron remained still.
Aurelia rose slowly.
"No," she said.
Selene shot to her feet.
"Yes," she said at the same time.
The room exploded.
"What are you saying?!"
"You can't contradict—!"
"Think before you speak!"
Reinhardt raised his hand.
"We answer together," he said. "One truth."
He looked at Aurelia.
"If we deny it," he said, "we insult every witness who survived."
Aurelia met his gaze.
"If we confirm it," she replied, "we paint a target on Leon's back that never fades."
The messenger waited.
Unmoving.
Impartial.
The Baron finally shifted.
Not speaking.
Just enough.
Leon's name hung between them.
Aurelia closed her eyes briefly.
Then spoke.
"We will—"
The doors opened.
Leon Valierous walked in.
Late.
Uninvited.
Unconcerned.
"…Why does this room smell like trouble?" he asked lazily.
Every head turned.
The messenger's gaze snapped to him—sharp, measuring. The description he had memorized aligned too well.
Leon glanced at the man, then at the imperial seal hanging from his cloak.
"…Ah," Leon said. "So that's what this is."
He looked back at the table.
"You're deciding whether to lie."
No one answered.
Aurelia's fingers tightened.
Leon sighed and scratched his head.
"Seriously," he muttered. "I leave you alone for one night."
He stepped forward.
Not to the head of the table.
To the center.
The messenger straightened.
"Lord Leon Valierous," the man said carefully. "I am tasked with confirming reports of your involvement in the recent battle. Were you present?"
The room held its breath.
Leon didn't answer immediately.
He looked at Aurelia.
At Selene.
At Reinhardt.
At the silent Baron.
"…I get it now," Leon said quietly.
Aurelia's eyes widened.
"You're trying to protect me," Leon continued. "Both of you. In your own annoying ways."
Selene opened her mouth.
Leon raised a hand.
"But listen carefully," he said, his voice losing its laziness. Not sharp. Not loud.
Cold.
"Lying to the Emperor is not protection."
The words struck like iron.
Reinhardt stiffened.
Leon turned to the messenger.
"If you lie to a common noble," Leon said, "you might lose face."
He looked directly at the imperial seal.
"If you lie to the Emperor," he continued, "you announce rebellion."
The room felt smaller.
"I don't care about fame," Leon said. "I don't care about heroes or banners."
His gaze flicked briefly to Aurelia.
"But I will not let this house be punished because of me."
Aurelia stood abruptly.
"Leon—"
Leon shook his head.
"I chose this," he said simply.
Then he faced the messenger.
"Yes," Leon said.
One word.
Final.
"I was present. I engaged the undead commander. The reports are accurate."
Gasps erupted.
Selene's breath caught.
Reinhardt closed his eyes briefly.
The messenger's expression hardened—not with fear, but with certainty.
"I see," he said.
Leon wasn't finished.
"But understand this," Leon added calmly. "I did not act as a hero. I acted as a noble of Valierous."
The messenger inclined his head slightly.
"That distinction will be recorded."
Leon nodded once.
"Good."
He turned back to the room.
"From now on," Leon said, "I'll handle the consequences."
Aurelia's voice trembled.
"…You're throwing away your peace."
Leon smiled faintly.
"Peace that humiliates my house isn't peace," he replied.
The Baron finally spoke.
One sentence.
"Enough."
The word ended the argument.
The messenger bowed.
"I will report the truth," he said. "The Emperor will respond."
He turned and left.
The doors closed.
Silence flooded the hall.
Selene stared at Leon, eyes burning.
Reinhardt looked at him with something like reverence.
Aurelia… looked afraid.
Leon stretched.
"…Well," he said. "That nap is definitely ruined."
He walked out.
Behind him, House Valierous stood at the edge of history.