The Volunteer

The war room of House Vaelthorn was alight with voices.

Scrolls, sealed missives, and reconnaissance reports littered the long obsidian table. Nobles, retainers, and generals murmured anxiously beneath the golden chandelier, its flickering glow casting deep shadows across the ancient crests carved into the walls.

Kael stood at the head of the table.

Rin stood at his left. Serentha, arms folded, stood behind him like a silent blade. And Lyra, expression unreadable, watched from near the corner—away from the politics, but not from Kael.

A trembling retainer presented the latest report.

"The rebellion in Nareth Province has escalated. The garrison commander is dead. The local fort is flying a sigil unknown to our records—a silver circle with broken chains."

Kael's hand clenched.

"Velcras."

The name rolled off his tongue like venom.

The others stiffened. One of the older nobles, Lord Vassere, coughed.

"My lord, if I may… surely this is best left to the regional knights. You've already proven yourself as heir, and sending a member of the direct line—"

"I will lead the suppression myself," Kael said, cutting him off.

Silence fell.

One heartbeat.

Two.

"You—" Lord Vassere sputtered. "With all due respect, Duke Kael, that is unorthodox. You've no battlefield record. It's tradition to—"

"Tradition," Kael repeated flatly. "Is how we ended up with rot inside our house and a traitor executed last week."

No one spoke.

Kael looked across the table.

"I will not have House Vaelthorn's first public act of retaliation outsourced to opportunistic knights. This is our land. Our people. Our responsibility."

He looked to Commander Ives, who stood straight in his silver-plated armor.

"How many of the Lion's Teeth are combat-ready?"

"All seventy-two of them, my lord."

"They move with me at dawn."

---

That Night – Kael's Chambers

Kael stood before the map of Nareth Province, eyes scanning every village and pass.

A knock came.

He didn't look up. "Come."

Lyra entered.

She wore travel boots and a dark cloak. Her hair was tied back simply, eyes calm—but sharp.

"You shouldn't go alone," she said.

Kael arched an eyebrow. "I won't be alone."

"I'm coming with you."

Kael hesitated.

"Lyra—this isn't like the academy. This is real war. Assassins, artillery traps, cursed blades. Not—"

"I know what war is." Her voice was quiet but firm.

Kael exhaled. "You'll ride behind the vanguard, with Rin. You're not to charge unless I call for you."

Lyra gave a short nod. "Fine."

He blinked. That was too easy.

"…Really?"

"Really. I'm not here to play hero. I'm here to keep you alive."

Kael turned back to the map, trying not to let his relief show.

"…Thank you."

She stepped beside him, brushing fingers along the map's edge.

"Nareth," she murmured. "They say the forests there burn from the inside. Tainted by old war magic."

"I'll take fire over poison any day."

She looked at him. "Then prepare for both."

---

Dawn – The Gates of House Vaelthorn

Seventy-two elite knights in blackened armor lined the courtyard.

The Lion's Teeth.

Their armor bore no gold. No ornamentation. Only the etched emblem of a thorned lion on their breastplates.

Kael walked down the line slowly, his longcoat flaring in the wind. His sword was strapped to his side, and the black dagger—ever silent now—rested against his back, hidden by his cloak.

Rin trotted up in armor too big for her age but eyes sharper than most adults.

"You'll let me fight if something happens, right?"

Kael looked down at her. "Only if I fall."

She puffed her cheeks. "Then I'll stay bored."

Lyra smirked from her saddle.

Kael turned to Ives.

"Report."

"Scouts confirm rebel encampments at the northern border. Their numbers aren't large—but they're moving like trained soldiers. This isn't peasant rabble."

Kael nodded.

Then, stepping up on his horse—an obsidian-coated destrier named Ashmane—he addressed the troops.

"You are the Teeth. You are the shield of this House. Today, we ride not for conquest—but for correction."

He raised his sword.

"Let them know the lions are no longer silent."

A cheer rose—controlled, disciplined, yet fierce.

And the army rode out.

---

Later – The Fields Before Nareth

The landscape darkened as they neared the border.

Villages were burned. Watchtowers had been marked with symbols of rebellion.

The sigil of Velcras—the broken circle—was painted in ash on trees and carved into rock.

Kael dismounted at a ruined chapel overlooking the valley pass.

Rin was sketching a rough map. Ives laid out the proposed assault routes. Lyra kept watch from the cliff edge.

Kael felt the pulse in the dagger. Soft. Watchful.

"…This is more than rebellion," Kael said aloud.

Lyra glanced back. "What do you mean?"

He pointed to the pattern of ruins, the timing of the attacks.

"They're not just striking randomly. They're building something."

Rin perked up. "A ritual formation?"

Kael nodded. "Possibly. Or a summoning barrier. Either way—if we let them finish it…"

"They won't," Lyra said.

He looked at her. And smiled.

"Right. Because we're going to rip it apart tomorrow."

---

Closing Scene – Night Before Battle

Kael stood alone beside the campfire, watching the stars.

From his belt, he drew the dagger.

It pulsed once. A faint red glow.

"You're not done with me yet," he whispered.

The dagger didn't answer.

But somewhere in the back of his mind… a whisper echoed:

> "Burn the roots, if you wish to bloom."

He turned his gaze to the valley ahead.

Tomorrow, the rebellion would end.

And Kael Vaelthorn would finally become what the world feared most.

---

End of Chapter 60