Chapter 5: The Weight of a Kingdom

Asher stood at the edge of the grand balcony of House Eryx, gazing out over the sprawling estate that was now his. The mansion—once a symbol of ruthless ambition and a house built on violence—now felt like a burden. It was vast, stretching far beyond what Asher could see, with the land divided into fields, forests, and towns. His father's empire, built on the suffering of others, had fallen into his hands. The mansion, the estate, the people—it all seemed too much to handle.

He had never been taught how to manage this. All he knew was fighting. But Asher was not his father. He wasn't the tyrant who had ruled with fear and bloodshed. He refused to allow this legacy to continue. The memories of the clones, of his father's cruelty, still haunted him, but Asher understood one thing clearly now: the power his father wielded wasn't just in his wealth or army—it was in the control of people.

The people of House Eryx were suffering, starved by war, forced to fight in battles they had no stake in. His father had sent them to conquer neighboring territories, taking from others and forcing them into endless cycles of bloodshed. Asher's gaze moved to the far horizon, where a small town sat nestled by the river, its fields barren from years of exploitation.

But that was all going to change. He had made it his mission to fix what his father had broken.

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In the days that followed, Asher threw himself into the management of the estate. He learned about the intricacies of trade, the careful balance of taxes, and the delicate nature of landownership. It was a crash course in nobility, one he never wanted to learn but knew was necessary. The old advisors, who had once served his father, were skeptical of him at first. But Asher quickly won their respect through his hard work and determination.

He met with the villagers and workers, listening to their grievances, their stories of hardship. He learned that under his father's rule, the estate had grown rich at the expense of its people. Taxes had been high, resources scarce, and the wars had drained the life out of the land. Asher was determined to change that. He reduced taxes on the struggling farmers and traders, opened food stores to ease the hunger that had gripped the estate, and started plans to replant the fields that had been left barren by endless campaigns.

The people were overjoyed. For the first time in years, they felt hope. They had seen the brutality of Lord Eryx and knew Asher's heart was different. He wasn't just a noble; he was one of them, a man who had fought to free them from tyranny. The change was tangible. Asher's reforms brought new life to the town, and the people worked with renewed energy, their smiles brighter than ever.

Word of Asher's actions spread quickly across the land, carried by traders, merchants, and travelers. The once-feared House Eryx was now a symbol of hope and renewal. And for the first time in his life, Asher felt that he was truly leading something worth fighting for.

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But as the sun rose higher on his new reign, it wasn't just the people of the estate who took notice. The other nobles—their hunger for power unyielding—heard whispers of House Eryx's transformation. And to them, it wasn't a symbol of hope. It was a threat.

Asher's father had taken what was not his, waging wars and pillaging lands from other noble families. When Lord Eryx died, many of those families saw an opportunity to take back what they had lost. They didn't care about the people, the reforms, or the hope Asher had brought—they only cared about reclaiming the wealth and power that had been stripped from them.

Within weeks of his father's death, Asher found himself summoned to the Great Noble Assembly, an annual meeting where the most powerful families gathered to discuss politics, alliances, and land disputes. Asher had never cared for the Assembly before—his father had ruled with such ironclad control that none of the other families dared oppose him. But now, things were different. Now, the nobles saw an opening.

The first to speak was Duke Varyon of the East, a man known for his cold cunning and ruthless ambition. His voice cut through the chamber like a blade.

"It seems the fall of Lord Eryx has created a vacuum. A vacuum that must be filled. The lands that were once claimed by House Eryx are rightfully mine. I demand them back."

Asher's heart sank as the room erupted into murmurs. He had expected this, but the suddenness of it all was overwhelming. Duke Varyon wasn't the only one who wanted a piece of the estate. Lady Marielle of the South, once a quiet and unassuming noble, now stood with a new fire in her eyes.

"You cannot claim what was taken from us," Lady Marielle added, her voice laced with anger. "Eryx stole from us. His house has caused enough suffering. It's time for the true heirs to take what's theirs."

Asher stood at the head of the room, surrounded by the other nobles, all of whom now looked at him as though he were little more than a pawn in a game of power. His father's legacy had been one of bloodshed and conquest, but Asher was trying to change it—to rebuild, to bring peace. He could feel the weight of their stares, the hostility in their eyes.

"We could have peace," Asher said, his voice firm but calm. "We could work together, share in the wealth of this land, and bring prosperity to all. My father may have stolen, but I will not. I will not fight to take what is not mine."

Duke Varyon snorted, the sneer on his face a clear sign of his disdain. "You're a fool, Asher. You think the nobles will simply let you rule this estate? You've made a few reforms, yes, but you're not fit to govern. You're nothing more than a child playing at kingship. The land belongs to us. We will take it back."

The room erupted in applause as several other nobles voiced their agreement. It was clear that Asher's attempts to make peace were in vain. They were ready to tear down everything he had built.

But Asher, though young, was no fool. He knew the game of power all too well now. He had been bred for war, trained to fight, and trained to think strategically. He may have come into this world as a clone, but he had earned his place. And if he had to fight to keep what was now his, he would. Not with bloodshed, not with violence—but with wit, diplomacy, and the strength of his convictions.

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The nobles had underestimated him. They thought he was weak—too idealistic, too fresh from the chains of his father's cruelty. But Asher was ready to show them that he would not let House Eryx fall into the hands of those who would plunder it for their own gain.

The battle for the estate was only beginning, and Asher was prepared to fight—both in the political arenas and on the field of war—if that's what it would take to secure his future and the future of the people he had promised to protect.