Political Struggle begins with a test

The Next Morning: The Council Chamber...

The Council Chamber of Drakon Keep, though smaller and more intimate than the Hall of Flames, was no less formidable. Perched atop the opposite peak of the floating isles, it commanded respect.

At its center, a circular table bore the Drakon family sigil—a coiled dragon wreathed in flames. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting the stern faces of past patriarchs, their presence a reminder of the family's enduring legacy.

The atmosphere inside was intense. At the head of the table sat Kaedryn Von Drakon, the patriarch, his imposing aura filling the room with tension. To his side was Lady Draviana, accompanied by the other concubines and the family's steadfast steward, Lord Gaius—a stoic figure whose loyalty to Kaedryn was beyond question.

Seated around the table were Abaddon's step-siblings: the predatory Veylan, the calculating Seraphina, the stoic Aelric, and Knox, the youngest brother, whose quiet nature masked a mind that absorbed every detail.

Across from an empty chair sat Belladon, Abaddon's true-blood sister. Her composed demeanor subtly gave way to the occasional glance toward the chamber entrance, as though she were expecting someone.

Within moments, that someone arrived. Draped in the unmistakable regalia of Drakon nobility, his presence was both commanding and distinct.

His attire, a darker and more refined take on the traditional Drakon aesthetic, radiated elegance: black harem dhoti pants secured with an ornate golden waist belt, jewel-encrusted wristbands, and gleaming golden earrings. A long black cloak, accented with intricate dragon designs and lined with polished black fur at the collar, completed his ensemble. Even his polished black footwear, adorned with intricate gold patterns, spoke of meticulous craftsmanship and noble refinement.

His long, silken hair was styled meticulously into seven locks, each secured with golden rings, gleaming under the chamber's light.

Fatty and Jane, now officially serving as the young prince's personal entourage, accompanied him. Even before reaching the Council Chamber, the trio had drawn attention throughout the keep. Their presence was captivating—Abaddon's unreal handsomeness, Jane's striking beauty, and Fatty's powerful, muscular frame left an undeniable impression.

Abaddon entered last, his deliberate footsteps echoing against the chamber walls, commanding the sharp attention of everyone present.

The room fell into stunned silence. The nobles, who had dismissed the boy as a beggar just a day earlier, now found themselves speechless at his transformation. Abaddon radiated an elegance and nobility that was impossible to ignore.

Veylan muttered a curse under his breath, visibly irritated as the attention shifted away from him. Seraphina, usually composed, looked genuinely taken aback. Aelric and the others maintained their neutral expressions, but their eyes betrayed a flicker of intrigue.

Lady Draviana and the courtiers wore thinly veiled expressions of displeasure. Yet amidst the sea of reactions, one stood apart—Belladon. Her aura was one of quiet acceptance, her gaze steady and unwavering.

"Welcome to the council, boy"

Kaedryn said, his rasping voice carrying a rare undertone of suppressed pride.

"You finally look like a true descendant of the Drakon line. But if you are to claim your place in this family, you must first bear the weight of its legacy. That journey begins today."

With a faint motion, Kaedryn gestured to Lord Gaius, who stood and addressed the room with practiced precision.

"Our southern vassal, Lord Marcius"

Gaius began, his tone steady and deliberate.

"Has refused to pay tribute for the third consecutive year. His defiance undermines the Drakon name, weakening our standing within the empire and encouraging dissent among other houses. Such insubordination cannot be ignored."

The gravity of his words was clear: this was more than a mere dispute over tribute. It was a test of leadership, a challenge that would reveal who among the Drakons was fit to command.

Kaedryn's gaze swept the room as he spoke.

"This task will determine who among you is worthy of the Drakon legacy. Bring Marcius to his knees—through submission or destruction."

Abaddon's eyes shifted around the table, studying the reactions of his siblings. Veylan's smirk radiated predatory confidence as he looked down on him. Seraphina's icy expression hinted at calculating intent. Aelric and Knox were unreadable, while Belladon appeared indifferent, though her occasional glances toward him suggested a quiet curiosity.

"I'll handle it"

Veylan declared, rising to his feet with an air of superiority.

"Marcius is a rabid dog. He'll kneel—or his lands will burn."

"A blunt solution"

Seraphina remarked, her voice smooth and measured.

"Perhaps effective, but wasteful. A more diplomatic approach could preserve both our resources and our reputation."

"Diplomacy?"

Veylan sneered, his tone dripping with disdain.

"You mean groveling."

"Enough!"

Kaedryn's voice thundered, silencing the brewing argument. His piercing gaze landed on Abaddon, whose calm expression betrayed little emotion. Something in the boy intrigued him, compelling him to test his resolve.

"And you, boy? What would you do?"

Before Abaddon could respond, Lady Draviana interjected sharply.

"Impossible, my love. Whether he's a Drakon or not, this is a battle for Rankers. If he's included, we'll soon be hearing of his second death."

The room erupted into mocking laughter, the nobles clearly dismissing him as a mere human unworthy of the challenge. Belladon shifted as though she wanted to speak, but a piercing look from Seraphina silenced her.

Abaddon showed no outward reaction, his expression as calm as ever. But then his eyes glowed with an intensity that immediately froze Lady Draviana in place. As their gazes locked, her mocking smile vanished, replaced by a flicker of fear. To her, it was as though she were staring into the eyes of a demon.

The laughter died down abruptly as the room fell silent. The oppressive killing intent emanating from Abaddon was palpable, suffocating everyone sensitive to mantra energy.

Kaedryn sighed heavily, breaking the tension.

"So what do think, boy. What suggestion do you have on this matter?"

Abaddon turned his gaze to his father, meeting his eyes without hesitation, his voice steady and resolute.

"Neither burn his lands nor grovel at his feet. Marcius's defiance stems from a wound inflicted by this family. If we want his loyalty, we must first understand his grievance. Only then can we bring him to heel."

Veylan barked out a derisive laugh.

"Listen to him! He thinks he can reason with a traitor!"

Kaedryn raised a hand, silencing Veylan with a single gesture.

"You speak boldly, Abaddon. But words alone mean nothing. Prove you can act."

He turned to Lord Gaius with a conclusive look.

"Each of you will have your chance to handle Marcius. Let the most capable among you claim the victory, starting tomorrow. "

As the council adjourned, the others filtered out, leaving Abaddon alone in the chamber. His hand traced the intricate carving of the coiled dragon on the table, his thoughts swirling.

"You shouldn't have challenged Veylan so openly… brother."

The sudden voice broke Abaddon's concentration. He turned to see Knox leaning casually against the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Knox..."

Abaddon said, straightening.

"What do you want?"

Knox stepped forward, his curly black hair falling slightly into his golden dragon eyes, accented by a single strand of blue at the front.

"Just wanted to remind you brother, to be careful?"

"And why do you care for my wellbeing, dear brother...?"

Abaddon asked warily. Knox shrugged it off with a sly smile.

"I don't, really. But Veylan's pride is his greatest weakness. You've wounded it, and he won't let that slide. Watch your back."

Abaddon's eyes narrowed.

"Why warn me?"

Knox smiled faintly.

"We're brothers, aren't we? I've seen what you've endured. Even after everything, they refuse to let you find peace. I've always admired your resilience—you were the only non-Ranker among us, yet you never gave up. That makes you the most unpredictable piece on this board."

Without waiting for a response, Knox turned and disappeared, leaving Abaddon with more questions than answers.

Later that night, Abaddon gathered with Jane and Fatty in his chambers.

"Marcius isn't a fool"

Abaddon said, pacing the room.

"He knows the Drakon name carries weight, but he also knows our weaknesses. If I approach him without leverage, I'll fail."

Jane leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

"What kind of leverage are you thinking?"

"Information"

Abaddon replied.

"Something deeper than unpaid tribute. I need to understand what drives his rebellion."

Fatty raised a hand.

"I heard something earlier in the kitchens. Some of the old servants say Marcius's lands were destroyed during an imperial campaign. Drakon soldiers marched through and left them in ruins."

"That would explain the grudge"

Jane mused, rubbing her chin.

"It's not enough"

Abaddon muttered.

"I need confirmation—and proof."

Fatty hesitated before adding.

"I overhead your siblings mentioned an old steward who served Marcius during that campaign. He lives in a village just outside the keep."

Abaddon nodded.

"Then we start there. The game is already in motion—a political war is brewing"

He said, his tone calm yet edged with determination.

"We're not children anymore. Everyone in the family is vying for power now. That's why the old man disguises his schemes as trials, using us to handle his petty errands."

His gaze turned sharp, almost predatory, as he looked down at the Keep.

"I'll gladly play along."