The capital emerged on the horizon like a threat.
Damien had been gone for a week – seven days that felt simultaneously too long and not nearly long enough. The city's white walls and soaring temples gleamed in afternoon sunlight, beautiful and suffocating in equal measure.
He'd left as a noble managing estate business. He was returning as something else – a demon-slayer with suspicious powers, the Saintess's controversial protector, and a man with corruption literally burning in his chest.
The column entered through the eastern gate to scattered attention. News of the demon attack had spread, but not the details. People stared at the wounded soldiers, at the Saintess riding in protective formation, at the grim-faced Church commander.
And at Damien, riding near the front with shadows that seemed slightly too dark clinging to his horse.
[REPUTATION UPDATE: Capital City]
[Status: Notable Noble → Mysterious Demon-Slayer]
[Public Opinion: Curious (60%), Suspicious (30%), Impressed (10%)]
The column split at the central plaza. Commander Helena's forces escorted Elara and the Church personnel toward the religious district. Damien's path led toward the noble quarter and an inevitable confrontation with his father.
Elara managed to catch his eye as they parted. Her expression was complicated – gratitude, concern, affection, doubt, all tangled together. She mouthed something that looked like "be careful," then Sister Catherine was steering her away.
Aldric, riding with the Church escort, gave Damien a long look that promised their conversation wasn't finished.
Then Damien was alone, riding through familiar streets toward the Valcrest estate with growing dread settling in his stomach.
His father would have questions.
Duke Cornelius Valcrest did not tolerate unauthorized adventures from his heir.
---
The estate loomed ahead, its dark stone architecture a monument to generations of calculated ruthlessness. Damien had grown up in these halls, learning to navigate his father's cold expectations and colder punishments.
The original Damien had feared and hated the Duke in equal measure.
The reincarnated Damien understood him – which was somehow worse.
Margaret met him at the entrance, relief and worry warring on her grandmotherly face. "Young master! Thank the gods you're safe. When word came about the demons – "
"I'm fine, Margaret." He dismounted, letting stable hands take his exhausted horse. "Where's my father?"
"His study. He's been... displeased... about your absence." Her tone suggested 'displeased' was a massive understatement. "Lord Damien, perhaps you should clean up first, prepare your explanation – "
"No point delaying." Damien headed inside. "Best to face it directly."
He climbed the familiar stairs to his father's study, knocked once, and entered without waiting for permission.
Duke Cornelius Valcrest sat behind his massive desk, reviewing documents with the same intense focus he brought to everything. He was in his fifties, silver threading through dark hair, features sharp enough to cut. The resemblance between father and son was undeniable – same bone structure, same calculating eyes.
The Duke didn't look up. "So. My heir returns from his 'estate business in the south.' Curious how that business ended up three hundred miles east in demon-infested ruins."
"Information travels quickly."
"I have sources everywhere. Part of maintaining power." Cornelius finally looked up, his expression unreadable. "Sit. Explain."
Damien settled into the chair across from his father, maintaining careful composure. This conversation would determine whether he faced support or opposition going forward.
"I received intelligence about the Saintess's investigation team being attacked," he said directly. "Deemed it strategically valuable to assist."
"Strategically valuable." Cornelius's tone was flat. "Breaking into demon territory alone to rescue Church personnel is strategic?"
"The Saintess specifically, yes. Building a relationship with her creates opportunities."
"By revealing abilities you've kept hidden from me?" The Duke's voice dropped dangerously. "Shadow magic, Damien? Where precisely did you learn shadow magic?"
So his father had already received detailed reports. Not surprising.
"Mother's family," Damien said, using the cover story he'd established with Commander Helena. "Eastern provinces. She taught me basics before she died. I've been developing them privately."
Cornelius's expression flickered – something that might have been pain, quickly suppressed. He never spoke of his dead wife. "Your mother had no such abilities."
"Her family did. She chose not to develop them publicly." Damien held his father's gaze. "I've been more pragmatic about utilizing available resources."
A long silence stretched between them. Cornelius studied his son with the intensity he usually reserved for political enemies, searching for deception.
"These abilities," the Duke said finally. "They look demonic. The Church will investigate."
"That's fine. The magic killed demons effectively. Hard to argue corruption when the results are dead enemies."
"Unless you're playing a deeper game." Cornelius leaned back. "Tell me, son – are you actually trying to sway the Saintess, or is this some elaborate plot I'm not seeing?"
The directness caught Damien off-guard. His father was many things, but rarely this blunt.
"Both," he admitted. "I'm building a genuine connection while recognizing its political value."
"Honest answer. Good." Something that might have been approval entered Cornelius's expression. "The Church won't allow it, you realize. They'll see you as corrupting influence and move to isolate her."
"They already see me that way. I'm managing the situation."
"By charging into demon territory and revealing secret powers?" The Duke's tone was dry. "Your management needs work."
"It got results."
"Yes. It did." Cornelius tapped his desk thoughtfully. "Reports say you killed three dozen demons single-handedly. Commander Helena was impressed despite her suspicions. The Saintess is publicly defending you. Even the hero apparently respects your combat ability."
"You're well-informed."
"Always." The Duke stood, moving to the window overlooking the city. "I've been building House Valcrest's power for thirty years, Damien. Careful cultivation of influence, strategic alliances, calculated risk. And here you are, throwing chaos into carefully balanced systems by becoming... what, exactly? A demon-slaying shadow mage with romantic designs on the kingdom's most protected woman?"
"An adaptable asset taking advantage of emerging opportunities," Damien suggested.
Cornelius actually laughed – a rare sound.