Chapter 10 – Whispers and Warnings
The throne hall of House Adraels echoed with purposeful steps and the quiet rustle of nobility gathering. Morning sunlight poured through the tall, stained-glass windows, casting colored light across the polished blackstone floor. Seated atop the elevated dais, Earl Dunnel Adraels wore the full regalia of his station—dark steel armor engraved with golden flames and the crest of the Black Horned Lion. His countenance was firm, regal, yet welcoming.
Around him stood the assembled family—Countess Daela and Lady Lyanna was sitting on both sides of him in his throne that was built for three. Asdrin and Medrin flanked their father like twin sentinels, swords at their sides. Jassa stood with grace, her eyes watchful beneath a veil of jeweled silver. Don Adraels stood slightly forward, dressed in a tailored black and gold tunic, his demeanor composed, inquisitive. Caria Thornf stood beside him, her lightning staff lightly resting in hand, clad in a noble silver gown with runic embroidery. Dvrik and Leinara observed silently from the sidelines, cloaked but attentive.
"Word has come," Earl Dunnel began, voice carrying easily across the room, "that emissaries from the House of Aetheria, the House of Griffor, and scholars from the Capital of Warsenbrenn arrive soon. Their purpose: to assess, observe, and inquire into the rising prominence of our household."
There was no surprise in the Earl's tone. These visits were as much political inspection as they were diplomatic gestures. House Adraels' recent movements—the alliance with House Thornf, the victories in Gorgon's Mire, and the display of ancient Adraels relics—had drawn attention across the kingdom.
"They will expect strength," Lady Lyanna added smoothly. "And they will test us."
"They will find us more than prepared," said Asdrin.
One by one, the guests arrived as predicted. First came the envoys from House Aetheria, a coastal noble lineage famed for their skyships and starborne mages. Lady Marell Aetheria, cloaked in white and sapphire, bowed low in deference to Earl Dunnel but cast keen, measuring eyes at Don and Caria.
Next entered the delegation from House Griffor, their griffin-feathered capes rustling with the scent of sea salt and ozone. Leading them was Earl Varant Griffor, a grizzled veteran whose gaze held the weight of a northern storm. At his side were his brother, the house's famed diplomatic envoy with sharp, assessing eyes, and his niece, the tempest mage Lady Sylrene Griffor, whose poise radiated a quiet, contained power. Earl Varant greeted Dunnel warmly but addressed Don directly. "So this is the young lion who conquered the mire."
Finally, the scholars arrived. From the capital of Warsenbrenn came a delegation of robed sages and record-keepers, led by Grand Scriptor Menvin Thalos, a man with hair like parchment and eyes like knives. They bowed before the Adraels banner, and then each examined Don, as if attempting to read a living manuscript.
The questioning began—respectful, but probing.
"Lord Don," asked Lady Marell, "Is it true you entered a sealed trial chamber and passed a test set by your ancestors?"
Don inclined his head. "It is true, Lady Aetheria. I was accompanied by loyal allies, and together we faced visions shaped by the past and our own doubts."
Earl Varant followed, his voice more direct. "And the Flamebound Medallion? Some say it pulsed with black fire when worn."
Don touched the relic beneath his tunic. "Its power does not burn unless called. It is a symbol of resolve, not conquest."
Grand Scriptor Menvin's voice was the softest, yet most unsettling. "What did you see in the vision of your trial, young Adraels? Who were you, when you were alone?"
A moment of silence passed. Don did not flinch. "I saw a conqueror with no purpose but power. I refused to become him."
A murmur of approval spread among the court, though the visitors remained reserved. The Earl nodded subtly. He had seen what he needed: strength under scrutiny.