The door to the Jarl's study was heavy oak, reinforced with iron bands. It took a grown man to push it open. Kaelen pushed it with one hand, slipping inside like a ghost.
The room was suffocating.
The fireplace roared, casting long, dancing shadows against walls lined with the weapons of dead ancestors. Greatswords, battle-axes, and spears—each one a relic of a past war.
Jarl Eirik stood by the window, his massive frame blocking the view of the frozen fjord. Outside, the drums of the celebration beat a steady rhythm. They were chanting Magnus's name.
Kaelen stood by the door, waiting. He didn't bow.
"You fooled them all," Eirik said. His voice was low, a rumble that seemed to vibrate in the floorboards. He didn't turn around. "The High Priest. The Elders. Even your uncle Torben."
"I don't know what you mean, Father," Kaelen said, his voice level. "I awakened a Rank 1 flower. The stone doesn't lie."
"The stone measures output," Eirik corrected. He turned slowly.
The firelight caught the Jarl's face. He wasn't looking at Kaelen with the disappointment of a father. He was looking at him with the terror of a soldier spotting an enemy general.
"I have watched men carry boulders, Kaelen," Eirik stepped forward. "I have watched men carry the corpses of their brothers. I know what 'heavy' looks like."
The Jarl stopped three paces away. The air in the room grew thick. A pressure—Killing Intent—began to leak from the Jarl's body, causing the flames in the hearth to sputter and die down.
"You stood before that stone," Eirik whispered, "and you weren't trembling from fear. You were trembling because you were holding up the sky."
Kaelen's muscles tensed. He knows.
"Show me," Eirik commanded.
"Father, I—"
"SHOW ME!"
The roar shook the dust from the rafters. In a blur of motion, Jarl Eirik snatched a massive double-headed axe from the wall—the Frost-Giant's Reaver, a Rank 50 Spirit Weapon.
He didn't hesitate. He swung.
It wasn't a test swing. It was a executioner's stroke, aimed directly at Kaelen's neck. The air screamed as the blade tore through it.
'He's going to kill me.'
There was no time to think. No time to hide. Instinct, honed by years of secret training in the tundra, took over.
Kaelen's eyes flashed a pale, icy blue.
'OPEN!'
The Frost-Bud vanished from his spiritual vein. In its place, a torrent of black, crushing mana flooded his arm.
Darkness erupted.
In his right hand, a rusty, tattered black umbrella materialized. Kaelen didn't have time to open it. He jammed the ferrule—the iron tip—upward, meeting the falling axe.
BOOOOOOOM.
The sound wasn't metal striking metal. It was the sound of a mountain falling into the ocean.
A shockwave blasted outward, blowing out every glass window in the study. The ancestral weapons rattled on the walls. The heavy oak desk cracked down the middle.
But Kaelen didn't move.
His feet had sunk two inches into the solid stone floor, but his arm was steady. The tip of the rusty umbrella held the massive axe blade in place, motionless.
The Jarl's eyes went wide. He stared at the black umbrella, watching the faint, purple energy spiraling around its handle.
"The Eclipse..." Eirik breathed, his voice trembling. "It's real."
Kaelen gritted his teeth, shoving the axe back. "Are you satisfied? Or do you want to see the second stance?"
Clang.
The Jarl dropped the axe.
The massive weapon clattered uselessly to the floor. Then, to Kaelen's absolute shock, the Jarl—the man who had never bowed to any King, the man known as the Iron Bear of the North—fell to his knees.
He slammed his forehead against the floorboards, his shoulders shaking.
"Father?" Kaelen lowered the umbrella, confusion replacing his adrenaline. "What are you doing?"
"I am not your father," Eirik choked out, lifting his head. Tears were streaming down his scarred face. "I am not worthy of that title."
Kaelen froze. "What?"
"Twenty years ago," Eirik rasped, "I was a shield-bearer. I served the Last Emperor of the North. The man who wielded that Umbrella. He died so I could escape the burning capital."
Eirik looked up at Kaelen, his eyes filled with a fierce, fanatical loyalty.
"He gave me a bundle of blankets and a single order: 'Hide him. Hide him until the Shadow returns.'"
Kaelen took a step back, his mind reeling. "Then... I am..."
"You are the true heir," Eirik whispered. "And I have failed you. I let you grow up thinking you were unwanted. I let the clan mock you."
"You protected me," Kaelen said, looking at the umbrella in his hand. "If I had known, I would have been hunted."
"And you still are." Eirik stood up, wiping his face. The soldier was back. He moved quickly to a painting on the wall, tore it down, and opened a hidden safe.
He pulled out a rolled parchment—an ancient, yellowed sea chart.
"The Empire has sensors," Eirik said rapidly. "That burst of energy just now? They felt it. Their 'Inquisitors' will be here in three days. Maybe two."
"But what about the clan?" Kaelen asked. "What about Magnus? He awakened a Rank 8 sword. If I leave, he—"
Eirik laughed. It was a cold, bitter sound.
"Magnus?" Eirik looked at Kaelen with a ruthless glint in his eye. "Why do you think Magnus is so strong, Kaelen? Why do you think I fed him Spirit Elixirs since he was an infant? Why did I push him into the spotlight?"
Kaelen felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold.
"Magnus is a Torch," Eirik said softly. "I made him burn bright so that the monsters in the dark would look at him... and not at you."
Kaelen stared at the man he had called father. He realized, for the first time, just how terrifying Jarl Eirik really was. He had turned his own nephew into a human shield, a decoy to catch the Empire's eye.
"You sacrificed him," Kaelen whispered.
"I did what I had to do to save the King," Eirik said, his voice hard as iron. He shoved the map into Kaelen's chest.
"You cannot stay here. You must go to the Dead Sea. Find the Isle of Cinders. There is a man there—a Silent Skald. He knows the songs that can unlock the seals on your Umbrella."
Eirik grabbed Kaelen's shoulders.
"Go, Kaelen. Tonight. Before I have to play the role of the loyal Imperial Jarl and hunt you down myself."
Kaelen gripped the map. He looked at the umbrella, then at the Jarl.
"I will come back," Kaelen vowed. "And when I do, I won't need to hide in the shade anymore."
Eirik smiled—a sad, proud smile.
"I know," he said. "Now run."