Rebirth: Necromancer's Ascenscion-Chapter 56: A City Built From Blood

The music swelled. Servants ushered the guests into the grand dining chamber. The real games were about to begin.

"Come," Velrosa said, touching Ian’s arm briefly.

"We’ve danced with snakes. Now let’s dine with them."

———

Before there was Esgard, there was war.

Over a century and a half ago, when the Ivorian Empire threatened to devour the southern reaches of the realm, the tides of battle were forever altered by one man—General Aizar.

A man of unrivaled strength.

A tactician without peer, a warrior crowned in blood, Aizar seized the city of Ivory from the heart of the Ivorian Empire and, standing amid the ash and ruin, declared a new capital.

He named it New Esrad—a defiant echo of the true Imperial City that had fallen into chaos and retreat.

Stone by stone, bastion by bastion, he built a city worthy of kings but refused to wear a crown himself. His banner did not rise as emperor, but as shield-bearer of civilization.

And though New Esrad would, in time, be renamed by the people to Esgard—the Guard of the Empire—its foundations were carved in the memory of resistance and forged in the fire of victory.

Decades later, the old capital of Esrad would be reclaimed and restored, drawing back the mantle of imperial rule. But Esgard never bowed again. Its identity had shifted—no longer a substitute, but a sovereign.

A bastion of power unyielding to kings, emperors, or faiths.

Today, it stands as the second greatest city in the realm, rivaled only by the resplendent halls of Esrad. Yet unlike the imperial city, Esgard belongs to no kingdom. Its walls rise independent of crowns. Its politics are not dictated by just nobility, but by strength—raw, unforgiving, and ever-changing.

It is the only city outside the Empire to rival a kingdom in military, economic, and arcane power.

And at the heart of that power sits a table of nine.

The Council of Esgard—formed not by birthright but by might. When Aizar vanished into history, the city refused to anoint a king.

Instead, its ruling power was divided between the dominant factions that called Esgard home: noble bloodlines, merchant princes, warlords, arcanists, and those who commanded loyalty with more than gold.

Each seat of the council is held by an individual whose influence stretches into the bones of the city.

The Council of Nine.

Lady Caldrein Morravel – First Chair

Matriarch of House Morravel, the enforcers of law and binding contracts. Cold, calculating, and merciless in arbitration. Her word can dissolve alliances or turn guilds into pariahs.

Lord Varek Durnhal – Second Chair

Master of coin. His house oversees debts, commerce, and banking. Ruthless in interest, adored by no one—but respected by all who owe. freewebnoveℓ.com

Archmage Serel Vaunt – Third Chair

Supreme authority over magical law and arcane institutions. A relic of the ancient order, veiled in illusions and rumors of lichdom. Keeps the mage towers in line and ensures magic remains regulated.

Prince Liam Xavier – fourth Chair

Foreign blood from the Arderian Kingdom, a neutral power amid internal strife. Handles diplomacy and oversees foreign relations. Sharp of mind and silver-tongued.

Lord Tharros Yvain – Fifth Chair

Commander of the city’s military and outer defenses. A tactician famed for ending uprisings in blood. Scarred by a hundred battles and feared even in silence.

Lady Velmira Saan – Sixth Chair

Mistress of luxury, imports, and trade routes. She dresses in silks from ruined kingdoms and is rumored to own an entire island of concubines and spies.

High Priest Eltharion Vale – Seventh Chair

Representative of the Sanctum of Light in Esgard. The pious executioner in robes of gold. His sermons are laced with holy fire, and his inquisitors never ask twice.

Lord Regor Kaelthorn – Eighth Chair

Overseer of the arenas, the beast trade, and the bloodsports. A man who turns slaughter into profit. To him, the roar of a crowd is currency.

Mistress Thalia Virex – Ninth Chair

Keeper of secrets, mistress of shadows, and spymaster of Esgard. She speaks in whispers and answers to none. Her network reaches even the dreams of nobles.

Nine thrones. Nine tyrants in silk, gold, and steel.

They are the law behind the law, the architects of the city’s silent wars. Their alliances shift with the moon. Their blades strike through proxies. Their smiles are seldom kind.

And tonight, one of those thrones was about to change.

---

The grand dining chamber of House Vallis was still lit with arcane chandeliers and mana-glowed braziers. A table of dark-streaked oak stretched through the hall’s center, flanked by a hundred silk-clad nobles, champions, merchants, and mages.

At the head, where the Council presided, a hush descended.

A steward in gilded red stepped forward, voice amplified by subtle enchantment.

"Honored guests," he said, "by decree of the Council, by writ of vote and blood, the first order of the banquet shall be announced."

Ian stood behind Velrosa, unmoving. His eyes scanned the faces of those gathered—vultures dressed as princes.

The steward lifted a sealed scroll. The wax bore the insignia of the Council: a serpent devouring its own tail.

"The Ninth Seat, until now held by Lady Virex, shall remain. But another has risen. In the wake of political vacancy and new influence, the Eighth Seat shall see change."

Velrosa caught a glance from across the table. Lord Kaelthorn was absent.

The steward continued.

"Let it be known. The new Council Member of Esgard—Eighth Chair and Overseer of the Grand Arenas—is henceforth named: Duke Malrec Lugard."

A wave of polite clapping followed, but beneath it came a ripple of tension.

Ian’s gaze dropped to Velrosa.

She did not clap. Her fingers, hidden beneath the table’s silk, were clenched white around her wineglass.

Lugard.

The same house that had tried to humiliate her with their champion. The same house that had whispered of her ruin and sent spies into her estate.

And now—Council.

Ian didn’t speak.

But in the pit of his stomach, a fire began to simmer.

This wasn’t just politics anymore.

Soon, noble blood must be spilled.