Somewhere in the Ironvale Kingdom, A horse-driven carriage rumbled along the winding dirt road, every bump making its wooden frame creak. Twenty knights in polished steel armour accompanied the carriage, with their swords sheathed at their waists.
Up ahead, the road was narrow. A small merchant caravan came to a halt in front of them. The waggons were loaded with goods. The traders and their guards hesitated. But then one of the knights raised a banner with a silver crescent symbol in the middle of a deep blue background.
"Make way for the Esteemed House of the Brightmoon."
The merchants snapped out of their daze instantly. Their carriage drivers hurried to steer their carts aside, making way. Everyone lowered their heads in respect as the noble entourage passed through. Once they were out of earshot, one of them muttered.
"The Brightmoon family... The number one noble family in the kingdom."
"It's said that they once had a cultivator among them," another young merchant said, gazing towards the entourage in the distance.
"I wonder who's in that carriage," the first merchant wondered.
"Most likely their heir. Young Lord Cerdic. I heard he is returning from the capital," a guard replied.
"The young prodigy, huh? I heard he is unmatched in studies as well as martial arts."
"Pity they don't have a cultivator any longer."
"Who cares? They rule the country in every way except in name."
The Brightmoon family entourage continued its journey; the merchants' murmurs faded into the distance.
Inside the carriage, Cerdic Brightmoon gazed out of the window. The scenery outside was quite beautiful. Endless fields, towering trees, scattered villages. Cerdic looked to be in peace as he took in every beautiful view. He loved travelling. But it has been a long time since he had a chance.
Six years. That was how long he was stuck in the capital. He left when he was ten to attend the renowned Ironvale Royal Academy. Although most of the noble children were privately tutored. But Cerdic's father—Regulus Brightmoon—insisted on him getting the best education possible.
And Cerdic? He exceeded all expectations. Coming out on top in every exam, becoming unmatched in swordplay, and being renowned among the circle of young nobles. He defeated famous scholars in debates; even some royal knights had problems facing him in a sword fight. Politics. Philosophy, martial arts – he acted everything. He was almost perfect.
If he lacked anything, it was a spirit root. Without it, cultivation was impossible. But nobody felt that was a problem. After all, not even one spirit root holder was found for the past sixty years. It was not even realistic to think of a spirit root appearing in a mortal family these days.
Only the royal family was said to have a remaining cultivator. But no one knew if he still lived. His last appearance was decades ago.
A smile bloomed on Cerdic's face as they turned towards the familiar road leading to the Brightmoon estate. He couldn't hold back his excitement. He felt the carriage was too slow.
He leaned forward and tapped the window.
"Faster, why are your horses moving like turtles?"
The carriage driver hesitated, glancing at the knights. The captain gave a nod. Quickly the knights shifted their formation, and the horses galloped faster.
Cerdic leaned back with a satisfied smile.
As they entered the grand gates of Brightmoon Manor, a welcome party had already gathered in the courtyard. Servants stood in line on both sides of the cobblestone path. Cerdic's family and relatives gathered in the manor's front arches.
The moment Cerdic stepped out, his mother, Seraphina Brightmoon, rushed forward and wrapped him in a warm embrace.
"Cerdic!"
"Mother," Cerdic said softly. "It's good to be back home."
She pulled back and looked at him, head to toe. "You have grown up, not just in height."
"I tried to make you proud," Cerdic said with a warm smile.
Before he could step further, someone crashed into him, and two small arms wrapped around his waist.
"Brother, you are finally back!"
Cerdic laughed, patting the head of his little brother Aldric. The nine-year-old was looking up at him with wide, excited eyes.
"You have grown too," Cerdic said, patting his head.
"I have started sword training," Aldric puffed out his chest. "I will catch up to you soon."
"Really? I like to see that," Cerdic chuckled.
He then walked towards his father. Regulus Brightmoon. "Father," he bowed respectfully. Regulus studied him for a moment and then placed a hand on his shoulders.
"You have done well." Regulus looked proud. "I had received many letters from your mentors. You have surpassed all expectations. Even outclassing the sons of generals and ministers. I just want to say I am proud of you."
A rare smile of satisfaction flashed across Cerdic's face. Regulus was too stingy when it came to compliments. A praise from him was earned, not given.
"Thank you, Father."
Following that, other family members also stepped forward. Cerdic's uncle Godwin, aunt Eleanor, his cousins Gareth and Victor, and the ageing steward Garon.
Godwin put an arm around Cerdic's shoulders.
"Look at you," he laughed. "You have really grown. I almost didn't recognise you."
Cerdic chuckled. "Uncle, you saw me like a year ago, when you visited the capital."
Godwin waved it off. "So what? A year is still a long time," he said. "Also, you have changed from a year ago. You look much more confident."
"Probably arrogant." Gareth crossed his arms.
"Want to find out?" Cerdic turned to him with a smirk.
"Don't get too cocky." Victor stepped forward. "We had been training too",
"Sure, I will test how far you two have improved."
Regulus and Seraphina only smiled at their banter. But Godwin interrupted.
"That's enough, you brats," he shouted. "Cerdic just returned from a long journey. Let him rest and settle in."
Cerdic's cousins exchanged glances, a bit disappointed. Still, they stood back.
"Garon, have you prepared my chamber?" Cerdic asked the old steward.
"Everything's prepared, young master," Garon replied. "Please come."
Garon had already instructed the servants to clean Cerdic's chamber properly and treat it with fragrant room fresheners.
"Thank you, Garon," Cerdic expressed his gratitude as he entered the mansion. His family followed.
Regulus and Godwin sat together in a quiet chamber, a small table between them. A jug of dark wine was placed on the table with two goblets.
"I hope all this success doesn't get into his head." Regulus said, taking a sip.
"Please, Regulus," Godwin laughed. "That's ironic, coming from you. You are the most arrogant head the Brightmoon family has seen in generations."
"You think so?" Regulus grinned.
"You once threatened to erase the Evernight family from existence. That too over a petty trade dispute." Godwin said, pouring more wine into his goblet.
"Fair point," Regulus laughed. "But still, I don't want him to repeat my mistakes."
Godwin nodded, lifting his goblet. "He worked hard for six years. Let him enjoy the moment. He earned it."
He gulped down the rest of the wine and reached for the jug to pour another.
"That's enough, brother. You're drinking too much." Regulus slid the wine jug away.
"You are underestimating me." Godwin snatched it back. "No way I am going to hold back tonight."
Regulus sighed. He didn't say anything more. Godwin kept drinking. Eventually, he stood up, swaying gently as he held onto the table for support.
"You alright?' Regulus asked.
"I'm fine," Godwin muttered. "You finish—hic—finish the rest,"
"There's nothing left in the jug, you idiot," Regulus muttered as Godwin stumbled out of the chamber.
For a few moments, Regulus sat silently, staring at the fire burning in the hearth. Then a quiet knock came at the door.
"Enter," Regulus said, snapping out of his thoughts.
Garon entered, his expression serious. Regulus gestured for him to come closer.
Garon walked forward and took out a parchment.
"It's about the Evernight family," he whispered. Regulus took the parchment and scanned through the contents. His eyes slightly widened. But then he turned calm.
"How certain are you about this information?" Regulus asked calmly.
"It came from one of the spies we placed in their household," Garon said. "He never failed us before."
Regulus was silent for a long moment. Then he stood up, his eyes fixed on the flickering fire.
"There's only one in a million chances..." he muttered. "But we can't afford to risk our family's safety."
He turned toward Garon, his expression turning steely.
"Finish her off. Quietly. The Brightmoon family must not be threatened."
Garon gave a firm nod. "It will be done."
He turned and stepped out, disappearing into the hallway.
Regulus stared at the parchment one last time, then threw it into the fire.
"I hope this turns out to be a false alarm," he said, sighing.