Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby-Chapter 156: The Greymoore Elders

The king’s sudden order had a vastly different impact on the independent and vassal werewolf clans. In the past, their young warriors had to work under the ten great clans or enlist in the military to have even a slight chance of entering the Trial of Yggdrasil. Some wealthy independent clans resorted to buying slots for their most promising youths.

But this time, the king’s directive changed everything.

He directly tasked the Arbiter Clan with organizing a grand competition to select the ten strongest warriors among all eligible werewolf youths. Following the command, the Arbiter Clan issued a worldwide announcement: all werewolves under the age of one hundred were invited to participate in the preliminary selection round, to be held in the coliseum at Lunergarde during the first ten days of the following month.

Entry required only a fee of 10,000 dollars.

The rules were simple. Each participant would face off in a one-on-one duel against a newly developed robotic warrior. Victory meant immediate advancement to the second round, which would begin on the 11th.

These robotic warriors had been developed under the supervision of the Lychos Clan, in collaboration with various werewolf scientists. The king intended for this robot army to serve under his direct command in the future. Though rumours of these machines had circulated for years, this would be their first appearance in public. The competition served two purposes: to help in the selection process... and to conduct a real-time field test of the robot warriors. The data gathered would be used to improve future models.

No one truly knew the robots’ combat capabilities. Yet countless young fighters around the globe were ecstatic. Many believed they could triumph and earn their place in the Trial. Even those uncertain of final victory saw value in the challenge... an opportunity to test their abilities and gain recognition. The entire werewolf world began preparing in a state of excited anticipation.

Meanwhile, the army under the Warlord Clan received a separate order. Ten of their strongest members under one hundred years of age would also be granted a place in the Trial. The news came as no surprise... joining the army had always been a viable path to ascension. Unlike the open competitions, internal selection within the army was straightforward; power rankings were already well known. Identifying the top ten was merely a formality.

While the global werewolf community buzzed with enthusiasm, the Greymoore Clan was in disarray.

The recent Stockport Scandal had shaken the very foundation of their thousand-year political legacy. In a single stroke, many of their longstanding allies... powerful political families... were exposed for corruption and criminal activities. Their downfall was swift, and chances for a comeback in the near future were bleak.

Though the Greymoore Clan still retained a few supporters in the House of Commons and Lords, their key figures were gone. Despite having investments in multiple industries, their primary business had always been construction, heavily reliant on government contracts... contracts that were often secured through their political influence.

The impact of their recent losses had already begun to show. In the last few weeks alone, they had lost several major government tenders... contracts they would have easily secured in the past. The clan members, already demoralized after the humiliating duel defeat, grew increasingly restless. As their frustrations mounted, they demanded the Elders come out of seclusion to address the crisis.

When Grand Elder George Greymoore heard of the unrest, his fury was immediate. He summoned the Elders for an emergency meeting.

The gathering took place in a luxurious villa nestled within the woods of East Sheen Common, in the London Borough of Richmond. Unlike the Raynor Clan, where a single matriarch or patriarch held central authority, the Greymoore Clan was ruled by its Elder Council. Only those who had lived more than five hundred years and held prominent roles in the clan’s history could become Elders. The Grand Elder wielded ultimate authority and had the power to appoint the acting clan leader, whom they called patriarch or matriarch. While the council mostly lived in isolation due to their age, they would intervene in critical moments.

Now, the time had come.

Alistair Greymoore, the current patriarch, stood in the grand hall of the villa. His head hung low, eyes avoiding the stern gazes of those seated before him. Seven imposing old men and two elderly women sat in a semicircle of high-backed chairs. Though one chair was reserved for Alistair, he dared not sit without permission.

"Alistair," Grand Elder George said sternly, "don’t just stand there. You know why we’re here. Tell us everything... from the beginning."

Clearing his dry throat, Alistair began.

"It all started with Ethan Raynor’s aggressive expansion into the construction industry. He began in Manchester. Within just five years, he dominated that market, then expanded into Trafford, Salford, Oldham, and Rochdale. The real trouble began when he entered Tameside and won contracts we had intended to award to the Brown Family."

He paused, looking at the Elders. "You all know the Browns of Stockport. We’ve supported them for centuries. They were both a business and political powerhouse in that region. But then, Ethan met with Stockport’s mayor and began efforts to replace Oliver Brown as MP. I knew a conflict was brewing. I was searching for a peaceful resolution."

A female Elder spoke coldly. "Why didn’t you reach out to Fiona Raynor? Ethan may be young and reckless, but Fiona has always been diplomatic. She’s even ceded business opportunities to smaller clans in the past. It was just a small territory. I’ve worked with her myself... many times. You should’ve let me negotiate."

Alistair bowed his head slightly. "I did consider meeting her. But before I could act, representatives from the Leroux Clan contacted my son, Lucian. They knew about the tension between the Browns and Ethan. They proposed a duel between Lucian and Ethan to settle things decisively. Everyone knew Ethan was considered a weakling. Despite being an Alpha, he wasn’t part of the Raynor Clan Council, which only reinforced the belief that his foundation was fragile."

He continued, "Lucian had already awakened our bloodline powers. He believed the duel would be easy. Besides, the Raynor Clan didn’t seem to have another Alpha of suitable age to stand for Ethan. He assumed either Ethan would lose... or he’d forfeit the match altogether."

He paused again, gauging the Elders’ expressions... grim and disappointed.

"After Lucian came to me, I initially rejected the idea. I didn’t want to risk provoking the Raynors. But then, the Leroux Clan offered ten million pounds to go along with their plan. I declined again. That’s when they offered something else... an advanced body-strengthening technique from the Fenroth Clan, designed to complement our Earth-based abilities. Plus, one month of specialized training for Lucian in the Fenroth Clan."

He lowered his voice. "That time... I agreed. I truly believed Ethan couldn’t win. I also never imagined they would retaliate by attacking our entire political foundation."

George Greymoore scoffed loudly, his voice like thunder in the hall.

"Fool!" he barked. "For thousands of years, the Raynor Clan has been one of the Ten Great Clans. No one... no one challenged their authority and escaped unscathed. Have you already forgotten what happened in North America? The Leroux Clan killed fifteen Raynor members. In retaliation, the Raynors hunted down over two hundred Leroux werewolves across the globe. Everyone knows the Leroux Clan has been looking for ways to destabilize them since then."

He leaned forward, his eyes burning with fury.

"And you... you let them use my clan as a pawn for some petty gains. Can’t you see? They used you to distract the Raynors while they pursued something else. And you took the bait... for a few coins and a minor technique. What made you think the Raynors would sit quietly after being provoked by a clan as small as ours?"

Alistair lowered his head even further. Although he was technically George’s brother’s grandson, the Grand Elder had always loved him like his own. Seeing the once-proud young man brought so low softened George’s mood... if only slightly.

He sighed and asked in a quieter voice, "Do you even know what the Leroux Clan was doing while you were busy setting up that foolish duel?"

Alistair hesitated, then answered, "Not exactly. But I’ve heard some things. A Chinese-British family with known ties to the Leroux recently launched a large-scale project in Coventry... they’re manufacturing communication equipment. I suspect it’s a front for a Leroux investment."

George’s eyes narrowed. "And how did the Raynors respond to this?"

Alistair shook his head. "They didn’t. No visible reaction, no public statement. It was as if they didn’t care."

"That’s... odd," George muttered. "The Leroux Clan makes a move on British soil, and the Raynors remain silent? That’s not like them. I’ve only been in seclusion for twenty years. What’s changed during that time? Has Fiona Raynor stepped down?" freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

Alistair quickly answered, "No. She’s still the official Clan Head and remains active. But there’s something else... something you should know."

George raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

Alistair continued, "About five years ago, a young woman appeared out of nowhere. She was barely twenty-five back then. She was introduced as the new successor of the Raynor Clan. They call her the Young Miss. Ever since then, Fiona has distanced herself from business and started traveling extensively."

George’s expression darkened. "You mean to say... Fiona handed over the reins to a child?"

"Not exactly," Alistair clarified. "From what I’ve learned, the girl doesn’t run the clan directly. She built her own tech empire... in the United States. A massive one. Just recently, she opened a branch in Manchester. And her personal net worth... reportedly exceeds two hundred billion dollars."

George leaned back slowly, absorbing the information. "Another Raynor prodigy..."

"She’s more of a demon rather than a prodigy," Alistair muttered. "In the business world, she’s infamous. She’s been accused of crushing rival companies, hostile takeovers, even murder. People call her the She-Devil in the States. Others refer to her as Rhiannon, because of her unnatural beauty. And these aren’t just baseless rumours. I’m sure many of the accusations are true."

He hesitated, then added, "In her first month back in the Kingdom, she acquired more than ten companies. Just like that."

As George listened, his face grew steadily grimmer. The air around him thickened, the room falling into a heavy silence.

Finally, he spoke, voice low and cold.

"Now I understand... what has changed in the Raynor Clan."

The most uptodat𝓮 n𝒐vels are published on (f)reew𝒆(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦