I Died and Became a Noble's Heir-Chapter 284: Summoned to the capital

The throne room of Elysium’s capital gleamed with crystalline magnificence, every surface polished to perfection.

King Eric sat upon his golden throne, flanked by his three chosen ones, Aurelius with his honey voice, Lyra with her controlled stillness, and Sera whose predatory grin that suggested she was imagining the bloodshed to come.

Before them, a massive magical projection hung in the air like a window into another world.

The image showed Sorne’s walls, Marcus Thorne’s approaching army, and the organized chaos of defenders preparing for siege.

"Fifteen thousand mercenaries," Aurelius observed, his amber eyes tracking everything that was happening. "Marcus has invested heavily in this gambit. Either he’s confident of victory or desperate enough not to care about the cost of failure."

"Desperate men make mistakes," Lyra said quietly, her pale eyes never leaving the projection. "But they also fight without restraint. This will be bloody regardless of the outcome."

Sera’s laugh was like breaking glass. "I hope it’s bloody! Look at all those delicious targets. If I were there, my darling and I could paint such beautiful pictures..."

"Keep your panties on Sera." Aurelius said as he waved his hand in the air.

"Lucky for you, I’m not wearing any. Want to check?"

"As enticing as your offer is, I’m not crazy enough to try anything with you."

"Tch... your loss Aurelius." She said as she stuck her tongue out.

Suddenly the door to the throne room opened.

Duke Alaric Kaiser strode through with Lady Genevieve at his side.

His white hair seemed to glow as he strode in.

His golden eyes blazed with barely contained fury.

But it was the aura surrounding him that made even the chosen ones tense.

"Alaric!" King Eric stood, genuine confusion crossing his features. "What are you doing here? Your territory is under siege!"

"An excellent question, Eric." Alaric’s voice was dripping with annyonace. "I was summoned to the capital by royal decree."

He pulled a sealed document from his coat and threw it at the King’s feet. The parchment landed with more weight than paper should possess, as if it carried accusations alongside words.

"That’s not possible," King Eric said, his voice sharp with genuine alarm. "I sent no such summons."

Aurelius moved with grace, retrieving the document and examining it with eyes that had studied forgeries for decades.

His expression shifted from skepticism to grim certainty as he studied the seals and the signature.

"It’s legitimate, Your Majesty," Aurelius said quietly. "Every verification mark. This document passed through official channels and bears all appropriate seals."

"Then someone in the capital betrayed me," Eric’s voice dripped low.

"Someone with access to royal seals and magical authentication."

"Your internal politics don’t concern me anymore, Eric." Alaric’s words cut like obsidian blades. "We were friends once. Brothers in arms. But you kidnapped my son after he killed Spiralus. Held him here like a prisoner under the guise of ’protection’ from your other nations."

"That was for his own good!" Eric protested. "Every ambitious fool in four kingdoms wanted to recruit or eliminate him after that display of power!"

"He is the sole heir to the Kaiser name," Alaric’s voice dropped to something dangerous, something that made the shadows writhe in corners.

"The only one who can carry our bloodline forward. And you treated him like a political pawn to be moved around your board."

Lady Genevieve’s hand found Alaric’s arm, her touch gentle despite the storm brewing around them.

"Beloved, perhaps we should focus on..."

"Show me the war," Alaric interrupted, his gaze locking onto the magical projection. "Show me what Marcus Thorne thinks he can accomplish against my children."

Aurelius made a subtle gesture, and the projection expanded, details sharpening as the spell focused on specific locations.

The eastern wall where Arydn forces held position.

The northern gate with Veyra’s archers.

The war room where Octavia commanded with the authority of someone born to lead.

Then the image shifted to Marcus Thorne’s camp, and Alaric went completely still.

In the center of the mercenary encampment, surrounded by guards and looking utterly unconcerned about her circumstances, sat Annabelle Kaiser.

She had her sketchbook open, her hand moving not caring for anything around her.

Joseph Meredith stood nearby.

The dark magic erupted from Alaric like a dam bursting.

It was a flood, a tsunami of shadow and death that poured from his body like water from a broken vessel.

The throne room’s temperature dropped so fast that frost formed on crystal walls in branching patterns.

The pressure was overwhelming. It was suffocating, any normal person would choke under the pressure that radiated off of his body.

Sera gasped, her confidence cracking as she felt the weight of Alaric’s fury. Even her battle-lust couldn’t find pleasure in his power.

Lyra’s bow appeared in her hands despite her not reaching for it, muscle memory responding to threat before conscious thought could intervene.

Light erupted from the chosen one’s form, brilliant and blinding, creating a sphere of radiance that pushed back against the tide of darkness.

His amber eyes blazed with divine authority as he channeled his patron’s power, creating a barrier that protected King Eric and his fellow chosen ones from the crushing pressure.

"Alaric, control yourself!" Aurelius’s voice carried a command that brooked no argument. "This is the royal throne room, not a battlefield!"

But Alaric wasn’t listening. His golden eyes had gone completely black, pools of absolute void that drank in light and offered nothing in return.

The dark magic continued pouring from him in visible waves.

Marcus Thorne had taken his youngest daughter. His sweet, innocent Annabelle who saw beauty in everything and believed the best of people.

That bastard had used courtship as a weapon.

He had manipulated her trust and had her stolen away while Alaric was conveniently absent.

The throne room’s crystal walls began to crack under the pressure, hairline fractures spreading like spiderwebs through material that had stood for centuries.

Her hand found his face, fingers tracing the line of his jaw with a gentle touch.

Her other hand caressed his arm, finding the tension in muscles that wanted to destroy everything in reach.

"Alaric," she whispered, her voice cutting through the roar of power with intimacy. "My love, look at me."

She pressed closer, her body against his, and kissed his neck with a kind tenderness. Her lips found the spots she knew would ground him, and would pull him back from the edge of letting his power consume everything. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

"Our daughter is clever," Lady Genevieve continued, her voice was a lifeline pulling him back from the abyss. "I bet she told Marcus exactly what would happen if he threatened our family. She’s not afraid because she knows you’ll come for her."

Her words penetrated where commands and threats couldn’t. The dark magic began to recede, slowly at first, then faster as Alaric’s consciousness reasserted control over his bloodlust.

"She knows Jack will come for her," Lady Genevieve pressed her forehead against his, her golden eyes meeting his black ones without fear. "She knows her father and brother are forces that Marcus Thorne cannot comprehend, let alone fight."

The darkness withdrew like a tide going out, pulled back into Alaric’s body through sheer force of will. His eyes shifted from absolute black back to golden, though they still carried storm clouds promising violence to come.

Aurelius slowly lowered his defensive barrier, though his body remained tense and ready. He’d felt the full scope of Alaric’s power for just a moment.

Chiron Stormblood’s reputation as the strongest man in Erebon might need reevaluation.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Alaric’s voice was hoarse, strained from the effort of pulling back power that wanted to obliterate everything. "That was... unseemly."

King Eric remained seated on his throne, though his knuckles were white where he gripped the armrests. "Your daughter has been taken. I’d have done worse if someone touched my children."

He gestured to Aurelius, who was still watching Alaric with new wariness and respect.

"Find out who forged that summons. I want names and I want to know how deep this conspiracy goes. Someone in my own court betrayed Duke Kaiser, and I will know who."

"It won’t matter soon," Alaric said quietly, his gaze returning to the magical projection showing Annabelle in the mercenary camp.

"Marcus Thorne will lose this war. And when he does, I will teach him what happens when someone threatens House Kaiser."

Lady Genevieve squeezed his hand gently. "After the war, beloved. First, let our children prove what they’ve learned. Octavia has this well in hand."

"Does she?" Alaric’s voice carried doubt born from fatherly concern rather than lack of faith in his daughter’s abilities. "Six thousand against fifteen thousand. Even with a defensive advantage..."

"Watch," Lady Genevieve said simply, her own eyes tracking to the projection. "Our children will surprise you."