The Solar Hall trembled with the angry voices of the Heralds.
Their white robes, marked with the symbols of the gods, glimmered beneath the light descending from the golden dome. They were the spiritual authority of the kingdom, the direct masters of the heroes… and now the open adversaries of the nobility.
King Felipe, seated upon his throne of ivory and steel, kept his brow furrowed as the Heralds stepped forward.
"Your Majesty," thundered the Herald Primus, his voice carrying a force that felt almost sacred, "how can a noble of your own realm act with such irresponsibility? The blood of thousands stains his hands."
The king drew a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure.
"The Douglas Duchy never sought such an outcome. It was an accident born from the rise in mana. The situation—"
"Do not deny it!" the second Herald interrupted, striking his staff against the marble floor. "The increase in mana is real, yes—but negligence is as well. An uncontrolled horde crossed their lands without proper containment!"
A wave of murmurs spread among the counselors, nobles, and guards.
The king's gaze hardened.
"Even so, the duke acted. He slew the Omega beast and pursued the horde all the way to Valther."
"Too late!" roared the Herald Primus. "Too late—and entire families died because of it. The gods demand accountability. And we demand it in their name."
Another Herald stepped forward, older, yet surrounded by an aura that chilled the bones.
"The Duchy deserves an exemplary sanction."
A scandalized murmur rippled through the assembled nobles.
The king rose slightly from his throne.
"Impossible. A duchy will not bow its head to a sanction meant to humiliate it. Such a decree could provoke political war—even territorial rebellion."
The elder Herald fixed him with an unblinking stare.
"Then the Duchy shall pay through service… not humiliation."
The hall fell silent.
"Explain," the king ordered.
The Herald Primus raised his staff, and a faint light marked his words like a divine decree.
"That the duke—"
Several nobles murmured Lusian's name.
"—shall accompany the heroes on their missions.That he aid them in cleansing territories infested with monsters.That he provide military and strategic support whenever it is required."
Another Herald added, firm and unyielding:
"And that the Duchy deliver immediate aid to Valther—food, medicine, reinforcements, and resources for reconstruction. It is fair compensation for negligence."
The king opened his mouth to protest—but the elder Herald raised a hand.
"This is not a plea, Your Majesty.
It is a warning."
The guards tensed.
"If a noble may condemn entire cities through irresponsibility," the Herald continued, "then the gods will demand balance. Should the Douglas Duchy evade its duty… it shall be considered heresy."
The king's fist tightened.
"Are you… threatening the throne?"
"No, Your Majesty," said the Herald Primus, inclining his head slightly."We merely point out that even a duke stands beneath the will of the divine.
The heroes are the instruments chosen by the gods to restore order.
And the duke—who failed in his duty—shall serve them."
The entire hall froze.
A counselor whispered under his breath:
"This will change everything…"
The king closed his eyes for a moment, fully aware he had no escape.
"Very well," he said at last, his voice weary."I will summon Duke Douglas.
And if he accepts… he will be assigned to accompany the heroes on their next campaign."
The Heralds bowed their heads slightly, yet their expressions showed no triumph—only severity.
As if this were merely the first of many demands to come.
The light of dawn had barely touched the black walls of the Duchy when a royal delegation arrived at a gallop.
They carried no festive banners, no trumpets.
Only the golden seal of the Kingdom—and a silence far too heavy.
Inside the private hall of the castle, Sofía Douglas broke the wax seal with a sharp motion. Her hands, capable of shattering steel, trembled slightly as she read the contents.
And then came the roar.
A human roar—visceral and furious—that echoed through the walls and into the hearts of everyone present.
"What do these insolent fools think they're doing?!" Sofía thundered, smashing her fist into the stone table and cracking it in two. "My son will not be treated like a criminal! Nor will he serve as a political pawn for those so-called divine frauds!"
The guards kept their distance. The commanders lowered their heads.
Even Larriet, beside her, growled uneasily at the fury of its mistress.
But amid the chaos, a calm voice rose above it.
"Mother."
Lusian approached slowly, clad in the black armor of the Duchy. He felt exhausted; bearing the title of duke was an immense burden—but he had no choice.
Sofía looked at him, still breathing hard, and saw in him the reflection of her late husband.
"I will not allow this, Lusian. I won't let the Heralds use you… blame you for something that was never your fault."
"But it happened under my name," he said in a low voice. "And now… I am the Duke."
Sofía clenched her fists.
It was true. Lusian was right.
Silence settled over the room.
Lusian took the letter, read it fully, then turned back to his mother with a calm that contrasted with the slight tremor in his hand.
"They want me to accompany the heroes. To help cleanse infested territories. To provide troops, resources, and my presence."
"They want to expose your life," Sofía snapped. "To watch you. To humiliate you."
"Not if we decide how it will be done."
Sofía blinked. For a brief moment, the rage fractured—making room for reflection.
"The Heralds and the temples are gaining too much power," she said quietly. "They control resources, armies, and the moral authority of the kingdom. If we refuse their demands, anyone could accuse us of heresy."
"Then we're trapped," Lusian murmured. "We cannot refuse… but we cannot allow them to trample us either."
Sofía nodded, her gaze fixed on the maps spread across the table.
"Exactly. Which is why we will do this our way. We will comply with what they demand—but we will use every resource of the Duchy to ensure it does not weaken our position. Every soldier, every beast, every strategy will come from here. I will decide how and where they are deployed. The Heralds will see nothing until it is far too late to question it."
Lusian took a deep breath.
"I trust you, Mother."
Sofía placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Then we will do this properly. The temples may demand—but the Duchy is still ours. We decide how to face danger."
She began issuing precise orders.
"Albert, you will serve as Lusian's escort commander. Level eighty-five. No one will take advantage of his youth or inexperience."
Albert bowed deeply, showing unwavering respect and loyalty.
"Adela," Sofía continued, "you will go with him. Your magical tiger will remain at his side. Do not allow danger to distract you from your duty."
Adela nodded, and her white tiger let out a low growl.
"Thunder and Umber will accompany you," Sofía said, turning back to Lusian. "With their strength and speed, you will be protected."
Lusian exhaled slowly, nodding, allowing his mother to organize the strategy.
"Mother… thank you," he said, offering a faint smile. "I trust your judgment."
Sofía placed her hand over his shoulder again.
"You are young, yes. But you are my son. This Duchy is yours. We will not allow the Heralds to dictate every step—but neither can we ignore their demands. We will do it our way."
Soldiers began to line up under her command. Thunder neighed sharply. Umber let out a long howl. Adela's tiger moved silently, waiting for the signal of its leader.
"Then you will depart," Sofía declared with authority. "Not as the punished… but as Douglas. Let the entire Kingdom remember who we are."
Lusian drew a deep breath and nodded.
The machinery of the Duchy was ready—organized by the woman who had forged its strength, its mind, and its will.