The meeting hall slowly emptied.

  One by one, the lords and elders departed through the towering doors of Ridgehall, their footsteps echoing down the long stone corridors like the fading aftermath of a storm. Some walked stiffly, cloaks pulled tight around them, minds already racing with damage control and political calculations. Others lingered just a heartbeat longer, casting wary glances back toward the seat of Dawnreach, as though expecting it to reject its new occupant the moment their backs were turned.

  But it did not.

  When the final doors closed, silence settled over the hall—not sharp or suffocating like before, but heavy in a different way. The kind of silence that followed upheaval. The kind that allowed the heart to finally slow.

  Orin remained.

  He stood near the now-occupied seat of House Dawnreach, hands clasped behind his back, posture straight but rigid. His gaze traveled upward, tracing the banners lining the walls—ancient fabrics bearing sigils of houses that had risen, fallen, and risen again. Each one seemed to whisper of expectations, legacies, and failures waiting to happen.

  He felt out of place.

  Not because he sat in a noble seat—but because the weight of it had not yet settled properly on his shoulders. It hovered there instead, unfamiliar and uncertain.

  Kael noticed.

  “You don’t have to look so tense,” Kael said, leaning casually against the edge of the long table. His tone was light, but his eyes were observant. “You’ve survived worse than this.”

  Orin let out a slow breath, one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Battles are simpler,” he replied. “You know where the enemy stands. You know what’s coming.” He gestured vaguely toward the vast chamber. “This feels like walking into a den of smiling wolves.”

  Kael smirked faintly. “Welcome to nobility.”

  Orin huffed out a short laugh. “I never wanted this.”

  “I know,” Kael said, his voice quieter now. “That’s why I gave it to you.”

  Orin turned fully toward him, studying Kael in a way he rarely had time to before. The calm authority was still there, solid as iron—but beneath it lay faint traces of exhaustion, lines carved by responsibility and constant vigilance. He looked older than he once had. Sharper. Changed.

  “You’ve changed,” Orin said.

  Kael shrugged, pushing himself upright. “People tend to.”

  Before Orin could respond, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor, fast and uneven.

  The doors burst open.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Tarin staggered inside.

  He looked like a man whose soul had abandoned his body weeks ago and simply forgotten the way back. His eyes were sunken and rimmed with red, his shoulders slumped as though gravity had doubled overnight. His hair was unkempt, his clothes wrinkled from sleepless nights spent hunched over desks.

  He walked straight up to Kael and grabbed his shoulder.

  Kael flinched. “Tarin—”

  “Kael,” Tarin said hoarsely. “Come back to your office.”

  Kael blinked. “What?”

  “I’m tired,” Tarin continued, his grip tightening. “I’m exhausted. These documents—these cursed, demonic documents—there are too many. I feel like I’m dying.”

  Kael’s brow immediately began to glisten. “Wait—wait, Tarin. Let’s talk this out.”

  “There is no talking this out,” Tarin snapped. “Daren i caught the runaway lord.”

  For a moment, his expression went completely blank.

  Then he laughed.

  It was unhinged. Loud. Triumphant.

  “I’m free,” Tarin said, throwing his head back. “Finally free from doing his duty. Free, I say! Freeeeee—!”

  Kael’s face drained of color. “I’m still going back out,” he said weakly. “I have a mission to do.”

  Tarin froze mid-laugh.

  Slowly, he sank to his knees.

  “Nooooooooooooooo—not again!”

  Kael panicked. “Okay—okay! How about I raise your salary to fifty thousand gold?”

  Tarin grabbed Kael’s shoulder again—harder.

  Kael swallowed. “Sixty thousand. Wait—one hundred thousand gold!”

  The grip tightened further.

  “You…” Tarin said slowly, his voice dangerous. “You…”

  Then he smiled.

  “You and I,” Tarin said, laughing quietly, “we really do have something in common.”

  He straightened up, released Kael, and patted his shoulder. “I’ll cover for you. Until you come back.”

  Kael sagged in relief. “Thank you.”

  Only then did Tarin finally notice Orin.

  “Oh,” he said flatly. “You’re here.”

  “Yes,” Orin replied dryly. “Apparently I’m Lord of Dawnreach now.”

  Tarin blinked once. “That’s… nice.”

  Orin chuckled awkwardly. “I still don’t quite know what I’m doing. I would’ve liked to take you with me, but you seem… busy.”

  “Very busy,” Tarin said solemnly. “But you can take Joran and Rhea.”

  Almost on cue, voices echoed from the corridor.

  “There you are!”

  Joran and Rhea entered together, their conversation spilling over into quiet argument as they walked.

  “You’re the one who took the long route,” Rhea said.

  “Because the other one smelled like old wine,” Joran shot back.

  Orin’s expression brightened. “You two—would you come with me to Dawnreach?”

  Joran whistled. “Damn. A lord already? I’m jealous.”

  Rhea elbowed him sharply.

  “What?” Joran protested. “Can’t I be envious?”

  She rolled her eyes. “We’ll come with you. It’s better to see a friend’s face than walk into a new place alone.”

  Orin smiled—genuine, unguarded. “Being old has its perks, it seems.”

  “Yes,” Rhea replied lightly. “They say old and wise go together.”

  “You wish,” Joran muttered.

  Rhea elbowed him again—harder.

  They laughed.

  Kael stretched, rolling his shoulders. “I’m going to rest. I won’t train today.”

  The room froze.

  Everyone stared.

  “…What?” Kael asked.

  They whispered among themselves.

  “I’m not sure that’s Kael.” “Kael not training?” “Is that a stranger wearing his body?”

  Kael narrowed his eyes. “You know I can hear you, right?”

  They shrugged together.

  Kael smirked. “Besides, I have Tarin. He’ll handle all my tiring work.”

  Tarin frowned. “That hurts.”

  Then he smiled. “But money heals my wounds.”

  Laughter filled the hall again—warm, easy, alive.

  Orin cleared his throat. “I’ll prepare to leave tomorrow. I’ll stay the night.”

  “So will we,” Joran said.

  Rhea nodded in agreement.

  One by one, they headed toward their rooms, footsteps echoing softly.

  From the shadows near the doorway, Daren stepped forward.

  He watched Kael’s retreating figure, the echoes of laughter still lingering in the vast chamber.

  “Finally,” Daren murmured, “this place feels alive again.”

  His smile softened.

  “You can rest well,” he whispered to no one. “Your son is happy.”

  The hall fell silent once more.

  But this time, it was peaceful.