Chapter 7
That gaze… this is the Damnern I know., Elyra told herself, a cold spike of panic twisting in her chest.
"…What business do you have here?" Damnern asked, his tone flat.
It was dangerously calm—the terrifying kind of calm that preceded an execution. Beneath the surface lingered a suffocating wave of killing intent, sharp enough to raise immediate goosebumps along the messenger's spine.
"Haha… truly formidable," the purple-haired man with dark violet eyes forced out a strained, nervous laugh. "The Fifth Strongest Warrior more than earns his title."
Damnern did not blink.
The messenger cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably under that gaze. "It seems I arrived at a rather poor hour. I certainly didn't expect that merely crossing your threshold would earn me such a welcome…"
"State your purpose," Damnern cut in, his voice dropping an octave. "Now."
The man's practiced smile stiffened. Slowly, deliberately, he raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. "Easy. I'm not your enemy."
"That depends entirely on what you say next."
Silence blanketed the backyard, heavy and suffocating. Finally, the messenger reached into his coat and produced a heavy, wax-sealed parchment bearing an unmistakable emblem.
"A direct decree from His Majesty, King Arveth Neltan."
Damnern's eyes narrowed into slits before he snatched the document straight from the man's hand with zero pretense of courtesy. The messenger swallowed an irritated retort. So this is how he treats royal envoys...
Damnern scanned the contents of the parchment. In seconds, his expression darkened into a scowl.
"…Troublesome," he muttered under his breath.
Eldern blinked, stepping a fraction closer. "Papa?"
Damnern folded the decree with a sharp crease and turned his cold gaze back to the envoy. "You've delivered it. Good. Now leave."
The messenger's eye twitched. "You really despise interruptions during family time, don't you?"
"I've warned the palace countless times." Damnern's gaze grew razor-sharp. "Do not bring work into my home unless the kingdom is actively burning."
The man sighed, running a hand through his purple locks. "Unfortunately, the royal court rarely cares for personal boundaries."
"Are you testing my patience?"
"N-Not at all!" The messenger straightened his posture instantly, holding up a palm. "If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave."
Without waiting for a formal dismissal, he turned on his heel.
"Gabnor," Damnern called out flatly.
The estate's guard captain materialized nearby, bowing smoothly. "Yes, Lord Damnern."
"Escort him out."
"At once."
As Gabnor guided the hurried envoy toward the gates, the man quickly wiped a bead of cold sweat from his neck. What is wrong with that man...? he thought, his heart still hammering. For a second there, I genuinely believed he was going to kill me just for showing up.
Back in the clearing, Damnern let out a long, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "…Annoying."
Elyra tilted her head, feigning innocent curiosity.
"Was it something serious?" Elina asked, stepping closer.
"Unfortunately."
"More royal duties?"
Damnern offered a faint, weary nod. "It appears the palace has decided to drag me into yet another bureaucratic mess."
Beside him, Eldern tightened his small fingers around the hilt of his wooden sword, his expression dropping. "…Then training is over?"
Damnern looked down at his son and sighed again, softening slightly. "Yes. We'll cut it short for today."
Eldern's shoulders drooped. "…I understand." Though he tried to mask it, the bitter disappointment in his voice was unmistakable.
"Who was that man, dear?" Elina asked gently, trying to restore warmth to the air.
"Jai Gendro," Damnern replied, crossing his arms. "The top disciple of the Third Strongest Warrior—the Twin-Blade."
"And what did the letter say?"
"Don't worry your head about it." Damnern tossed the decree casually toward the maid, Sasha, who caught it with practiced ease. "Work stays outside these gates."
Despite his dismissal, a dark knot of curiosity tightened inside Elyra's mind. That night, sleep abandoned her entirely, the phantom image of the royal crest lingering stubbornly behind her eyelids.
Unable to lie still anymore, she slipped out of her bed and padded quietly down the dim corridor toward the bathroom. As she passed, she noticed a thin sliver of golden light spilling across the floorboards from beneath Damnern's study door.
Curiosity winning over caution, she crept closer and peered inside. The room was empty—until a shadow fell over her.
"Still awake, Papa's little shadow?"
Elyra nearly jumped out of her skin as Damnern materialized behind her without a sound.
"N-Not yet…" she muttered hastily, instantly dropping her gaze to the floor.
"Oh?" Damnern chuckled, a note of fond amusement in his chest. "Did Elyra miss Papa? Is that why you came looking for me?"
OF COURSE NOT! Elyra screamed internally, fighting the urge to glare.
"Actually…" Damnern continued casually, leaning against the doorframe, "His Majesty wants Papa to take on a new title. Count of the Willowess Region."
Elyra froze.
"T-That wettew...?" she mumbled in her clumsy baby voice, masking the sudden tremor of shock running through her veins.
"That's right," Damnern nodded, a hint of resignation in his tone. "A royal decree is not something Papa can simply refuse."
Elyra remained motionless, her mind racing.
"Hehe…" Damnern chuckled softly, patting her head. "What am I saying? You're far too young to understand any of this."
Before she could process the revelation, he effortlessly scooped her up into his arms, carrying her back down the quiet hall. Despite her instincts screaming for her to push away, Elyra forced her tiny body to relax against his chest.
The next morning, pale sunlight filtered gently through the lace curtains of the nursery.
Elyra sat cross-legged at the edge of her small bed, staring down at her tiny, uncalloused hands.
After watching Eldern train yesterday... I tried attempting to manifest a clone, she whispered to herself, a bitter frustration rising in her throat. That's when I realized it. My Clone Manifestation ability is entirely gone.
For years, that unique power had been her absolute lifeline, her decoy, and her only shield against death in the Noxes organization. Now, it was stripped away, leaving her stranded inside the fragile body of a toddler.
If I still had that power, gathering intel outside these walls would be effortless...
She paused, her eyes narrowing as the pieces clicked together.
The Count of Willowess... After I assassinated him, the region was left without a direct successor. What was his name again? Elvion? Elovon? Ah, whatever...
Either way, I'm no longer Ferwel's dog.
Just then, light footsteps echoed down the corridor. Recognizing Eldern's familiar rhythm, Elyra scrambled upright and popped her head out the door.
"Eden!"
Eldern halted instantly, backing up a step to peer into her room with a warm, bright smile. "Good morning, Elyra. What is it?"
Tilting her head with calculated innocence, she batted her bright blue eyes. "What wegion do we wive in?" she asked, struggling just enough with her pronunciation to sell the act.
Eldern blinked, caught off guard by the random question, before a soft, proud laugh escaped him. Rather than finding it odd, he looked genuinely charmed by her sudden inquisitiveness.
"We live in Willowess, Elyra," he answered gently, leaning against the doorframe. "Why are you asking all of a sudden?"
Elyra flashed a totally innocent, harmless smile. "Nothing."
So all this time, I've been living right here in the Willowess Region… she thought darkly. And now, Damnern Solv is going to become its Count?
Not long after, Damnern formally broached the subject with Elina over breakfast.
"Darling, there's something I need to share with you," he said quietly, setting down his cup.
Elina looked up from her book, her expression serene. "What is it?"
"The King issued another decree," he paused, watching her reaction. "I've been granted a peerage. I'm to be made a Count."
Elina blinked, genuine surprise flickering across her features. "A Count…? You?"
Damnern nodded slowly. "I've been appointed to govern Willowess. The region has sat without a lord for two years, ever since the passing of the late Count Elvion Ornen."
A heavy quiet settled over the room as Elina processed the news. Then, a soft, unwavering smile graced her lips.
"No matter where we go or what title they give you... as long as you stand for what is right, I will always be by your side."
Damnern looked at her, his stern features softening into a rare, genuine warmth.
The grand investiture ceremony for the new Count of Willowess was officially scheduled for the following week in Valcreat, the opulent royal capital of the Kingdom of Neltan.
To be Continued...