The wind in the capital carried more than chill.
It carried uncertainty.
Corvin moved silently through the backstreets of Eldorune, the great capital of the Kingdom of Valeriand. Once a beacon of order and nobility, the city now whispered with unrest. Though the banners of the royal house still fluttered atop the grand towers, tension threaded the air.
He'd arrived just before dawn, disguised as a traveling scholar—his documents bearing forged seals, his behavior calculated, careful. He kept his eyes low, but his ears open. And while the streets weren't in chaos, a nervous energy clung to the populace.
Merchants whispered about rising tariffs. Nobles seemed more reclusive than usual. Rumors circulated—of council debates turning heated, of noble factions pressing new policies. Still, nothing concrete suggested an uprising. No direct threats. No sabotage.
And most importantly—no sign of unrest targeting House Verentis.
---
Back at the border, Achilles stood on the western tower of Fort Velkar.
His arms were folded behind his back, posture sharp as steel, gaze locked on the endless horizon. The wind lashed against his coat, tugging at his dark hair. Kael approached quietly, holding a scroll in one hand.
"Supply from the capital is still delayed," Kael said.
Achilles didn't turn. "How many weeks has it been?"
"Nearly eight."
"Any response to our inquiries?"
Kael hesitated. "None."
Achilles exhaled slowly through his nose. "Then we don't rely on them. Not if we don't have to."
Kael tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
"My family remains whole. Our estates still stand. We are not alone."
Finally, Achilles turned and walked into the war room.
He activated his system, a light-blue array of mana symbols flaring faintly before his eyes. He wrote a secured transmission, embedding a family crest and encryption seal known only to two others:
:: To House Verentis — Caldus and Irelya.
> Supplies from the capital are inconsistent. Situation not yet dire, but stability demands independent support. Request immediate provisioning of food, healing tonics, cold gear, and general armaments. Prioritize delivery through private channels.
> I do not ask for political leverage. Only practical support. The front remains intact. Border forces hold. But precaution is better than crisis.
> Your son,
Achilles
---
Within three days, a response came.
Delivered by a private courier, sealed in the red wax of House Verentis.
Kael handed it to him with a brow raised. "Your parents replied faster than the entire court."
Achilles broke the seal and read aloud.
> To our beloved son,
We had feared that the capital's silence might burden you. We are relieved you reached out.
You shall have everything you asked for, and more. Ten wagons have already been dispatched from our northern estate, along with mages from the household guard to protect the convoy.
Irelya sends extra clothing and medicinal herbs. She worries endlessly.
Keep strong, our son. Hold the border as you always have. The rest—we will see to it ourselves.
Caldus and Irelya Verentis
A smile tugged at Achilles's lips—brief and rare.
Kael leaned over his shoulder, whistling low. "Ten wagons? That's nearly a month's supply."
"Two, if we ration wisely. Three if we make use of the hunting reserves nearby."
"And they're sending guards too?"
Achilles nodded. "House Verentis doesn't forget its blood."
---
By the next week, the convoy arrived.
Soldiers gathered at the southern gates of Fort Velkar as the covered wagons rolled in under heavy snowfall. Each was pulled by sturdy drake-horses bred in the Verentis highlands—tough beasts trained for cold terrain.
The guards wore the crimson and black of House Verentis, swords sheathed but ready, their presence a symbol as much as it was a defense. Among them rode a familiar face: Captain Thalos, a trusted retainer of Caldus.
He dismounted as Achilles approached.
"Commander," Thalos said, placing a fist to his chest. "Your parents send their blessings. And their full support."
Achilles clasped his arm. "You have my thanks."
"You needn't thank me. You're family."
He turned and motioned to his men. The convoy began unloading immediately: crates of dried goods, bundles of woolen blankets, barrels of distilled elixirs, and several racks of fresh steel blades. Everything Achilles had asked for—delivered without delay.
Kael stood beside him, marveling. "Your family's efficient."
"They always have been."
"You think the court will notice?"
Achilles gave him a sideways glance. "If they do, it's too late to object. This is no rebellion. It's survival."
---
Later that evening, Achilles sat alone in his command quarters, quill in hand, drafting a new logistics schedule.
The soft crackle of fire warmed the room. A tray of tea—another gift from his mother—rested on a side table.
He had expected resistance, perhaps delay.
But not this immediate, familial support.
He looked to the far wall where a tapestry of House Verentis hung—black threads forming a hawk in mid-dive, eyes focused, talons ready.
"They still believe in me," he whispered.
That was enough.
He didn't need the court.
He had the border.
He had his soldiers.
He had his family.
And with those three, Achilles Verentis would hold the line of Valeriand no matter what came.