I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 831: Kneel… [Golden Ticket Chapter Bonus]

Elowen Ashwood looked up from her parchment, her emerald eyes darting from Jack’s unreadable face to the King’s towering frame.

Her mind raced through the political calculations: total annihilation at the hands of an immortal vanguard, or surviving as high-ranking advisors to an absolute monarch with the potential to place an Ashwood maiden in the royal bedchamber.

Without uttering a single word, Elowen reached for the silver stylus resting beside the document.

She brought the sharp tip to her index finger, pricking the pale skin until a bead of crimson welled up, and pressed her blood firmly into the signature seal. She channeled her mana, watching as the parchment absorbed her life force with a faint, golden flare.

Sylvea Starling followed immediately, her small hands shaking so violently that her signature was jagged, her blood smearing slightly across the seal before it locked.

Nerida Solyus did not hesitate; the bronze-skinned warrior pricked her thumb with her dagger, pressed her seal onto the page, and met Rhys’s gaze with a sharp, respectful nod.

One by one, Sirius Anake, Daemon Archon, Selene Alyon, and Yandor Sideris pressed their blood into the charters, binding their houses to the new order.

Only three councilors held out.

Calix Meridan sat with his teeth clenched, his pride refusing to let him pick up the quill.

Astraea Ouroboros stared down at the table, her slate-gray eyes cold and motionless, while Sable Malakor leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed tightly over her crimson bodice.

Sable’s amethyst eyes conveyed a strong sense of defiant hostility as she gazed directly at Jack.

“My brother, Leandros, was the greatest military mind this continent has produced in two centuries,” Sable said, her deep, melodic voice dripping with icy venom.

“House Malakor does not kneel to ultimatums delivered by human mongrels. We hold the southern legions. We hold the iron mines of the Western Ridge. You have butchered my kin, but you hold no legitimate claim over our bloodline. We will never endorse a bastard Vileblood upon the throne of Caeloria.”

CREAK.

The heavy side doors of the annex swung open with a soft, melodic hiss.

Every eye at the table snapped toward the entrance.

Stepping gracefully through the doorway was Miriame Malakor.

The young noblewoman was breathtaking. She wore an immaculate, flowing gown of pure white silk that cascaded to the floor, embroidered with silver moonlilies along the sleeves and hem.

Her glossy dark hair was styled into an intricate, sweeping crown braid that framed her pale, aristocratic face.

Yet what drew the breath completely out of Sable Malakor’s chest was the piece of jewelry resting against Miriame’s collarbone.

Suspended from a delicate chain of enchanted platinum was a colossal, teardrop-shaped sapphire surrounded by fourteen brilliant-cut diamonds.

The gem pulsed with a deep, rhythmic blur of mana that resonated with the royal palace’s foundational arrays.

Sable’s breath seized in her throat. Her knuckles turned white where she gripped the table, her amethyst eyes widening to their absolute limit.

“The Lirze of Caeloria…” Sable whispered, her voice cracking in pure, uncomprehending shock.

It was the supreme heirloom of the founding dynasty.

The sacred betrothal jewel presented exclusively to the woman chosen to become the future Queen of Caeloria.

For three hundred years, it had remained locked within the royal vault, untouched since the day Maelor had crowned Morvana.

Jack Kaiser stepped to Rhys’s side as Miriame walked forward with regal grace.

She stopped beside the young prince, resting her slender, ringed hand gently and openly on Rhys’s forearm, her dark eyes fixed on her aunt with absolute, unwavering resolve.

“Miriame Malakor has formally accepted Prince Rhys’s proposal of marriage,” Jack announced, his voice echoing through the silent annex with the finality of a bronze bell.

“In a short time, they will be wed before the realm, permanently uniting the martial bloodline of House Malakor with the sovereign authority of the High Crown. Prince Rhys has accomplished every requirement demanded by your ancient charters: he cleared an S-rank dungeon solo, he conquered the Cordelia Academy Finals, he secured the betrothal of your highest pureblood house, and the subterranean demon crisis has been completely eradicated.

All that remains is the formal endorsement of this Council, and besting a guard captain in a dungeon run to be universally recognized as the undisputed First Heir to Caeloria.”

Jack looked across the duskwood table, his lips curving into a sharp, victorious smirk.

“Though, to be entirely frank with you… this vote is merely a formality at this point.”

Jack raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

“All nobles who support Prince Rhys’s claim… kneel.”

VUUUUUUM.

The pale gold parchments signed by the seven councilors suddenly ignited with a brilliant, blinding silver-blue spiritual radiance.

Elowen, Sylvea, Nerida, Sirius, Daemon, Selene, and Yandor let out simultaneous, choked gasps as an irresistible, crushing metaphysical force seized their physical bodies and their spiritual cores.

The documents they had signed were not mere legal parchment; they were Soul Contracts, forged through the ancient authority of the S, permanently binding their free will, their mana, and their life force to King Maelor and his male bloodline.

Instantly, the seven councilors were hauled out of their seats by an invisible gravity, their knees slamming down onto the hard duskwood floor in a single, synchronized, resounding crash.

Sable Malakor stared in paralyzed, wide-eyed horror as seven of the most powerful lineage heads in the kingdom knelt upon the floor like common servants before the young half-blood.

She looked at her niece, wearing the Queen’s royal jewel, standing proudly beside the new heir.

She looked at Jack Kaiser, whose heterochromic eyes bore down upon her with the weight of an immortal conqueror.

The realization that House Malakor was already bound to the new regime through Miriame, and that further resistance meant the absolute extermination of her remaining kin, crushed the last remnant of Sable’s defiance.

With trembling hands, Sable reached forward, picked up the quill, and pricked her index finger, pressing her blood firmly into the glowing seal.

Beside her, Calix Meridan and Astraea Ouroboros broke completely, smearing their blood across their respective parchments.

The moment their seals locked, the Soul Contracts seized their spirits. Calix, Astraea, and Sable were pulled from their chairs, their knees striking the floor alongside the others.

“We recognize Prince Rhys,” Sable choked out, her head bowed low toward the dark wood of the floor, her voice trembling with forced submission. “House Malakor endorses the First Heir.”

“All hail Prince Rhys!” the ten councilors chorused in unison, their voices resonating with the absolute, compelled obedience of the Soul Contract. “Hail the true Heir to Caeloria!”

Rhys looked down upon the ten kneeling heads of the Great Houses.

The political chains that had bound him to the dirt for years had been completely shattered, forged anew into an unyielding foundation beneath his boots.

Jack Kaiser lowered his hand, his dark coat settling smoothly over his shoulders as he stepped away from the table, turning his gaze toward King Maelor and his champion.

“The Council is secured,” Jack said, his heterochromic eyes gleaming with dark, focused intent. “Now, let us go find a guard captain. I have the perfect dungeon for you to set foot in.”

Shout Out to Hokianga_Dunn, Paggong, VissX, Christian_George_5891, Zenter_Kartal, and Tim_Van_Blarcum_1307 on Golden Tickets!