Reborn as a Hated Noble Family, We Start an Industrial Revolution

Chapter 151: Chapter 151: THE LIONS’ BANQUET AND THE ULTIMATE CHOICE

​The wrought-iron chandeliers, now retrofitted with conduits of magitech-electrical energy, cast a warm, steady white glow over the long teakwood table in the Dining Hall of Castle Iron Hearth. The air was thick with the rich, inviting aromas of sizzling lamb satay with thick, savory peanut sauce, steaming bowls of soto ayam infused with aromatic spices, and mounds of fluffy white rice that still sent wisps of steam upward. Under normal circumstances, such a feast would have triggered an insatiable appetite in anyone present; however, tonight, the atmosphere in the room felt as heavy and suffocating as lead.

​Nine core members of the Sudrath family sat in their designated positions. Duke Lucian sat at the head of the table, his face appearing ten years older under the flickering shadows of the mana-lights. Beside him, Duchess Aurelia sat with a perfectly straight back, her slender, elegant fingers holding a piece of cotton soaked in a shimmering blue healing poultice. With agonizing gentleness, she dabbed at the split corner of Roland’s lip—the lingering mark of Lucian’s strike from earlier that afternoon.

​”Hold still for a moment, Roland,” Aurelia whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyes betrayed the raw pain of a mother, yet she did not utter a single syllable of protest against her husband. She understood that Lucian’s burden as the Duke was far heavier than her personal sentiments at this moment.

​Roland remained motionless, allowing his mother to tend to the wound. His eyes were eerie in their calmness, staring straight ahead at his silver plate, which remained untouched and full.

​Lucian cleared his throat—a low, resonant sound that instantly halted the clinking of silverware. Raphael, the youngest son who had recently begun his grueling journey into knighthood, immediately straightened his posture, his fork hovering mid-air.

​”I have not summoned you all here merely for a family meal,” Lucian’s voice echoed through the silent, cavernous hall. ”The courier from Sol-Regis has only just departed. I have received a direct royal decree from King Edward IV. We are summoned to the Annual Summit of Lords at the Palace of Light in seven days.”

​Lucian paused, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his children one by one, measuring their reactions. ”But there is a more pressing reason. Prince Marcus Aethelgard is dead. And he fell by Roland’s hand.”

​An absolute, deafening silence descended upon the table.

​Raveena, who still looked pale and frail from her ongoing recovery from mana-burn, accidentally dropped her spoon. It hit the marble floor with a sharp, ringing clatter that seemed to scream in the silence. Beside her, Prince Caelus—the exiled prince turned Sudrath ally—froze. The blood drained from his face until he was as white as a sheet. He knew Marcus; his older brother was undoubtedly arrogant and volatile, but killing him was equivalent to a formal declaration of war against the Sun Throne.

​”You killed him?” Rianor whispered, finally breaking the silence. He set his steak knife down with a jarring thud. His sharp eyes, magnified behind his spectacles, glared at Roland with a flash of cold, calculating fury. ”Roland, do you have any idea what you have just done? You have just jeopardized my entire production timeline!”

​Roland turned his head slowly to meet Rianor’s gaze. ”I saved the lives of a hundred of our men, Rianor. Not to mention my own.”

​”By triggering a civil war?” Rianor stood up, his voice rising an octave, his logical mind recoiling at the strategic nightmare. ”Your thinking is dangerously shallow! We are facing the Iron Empire in the North. We need absolute political stability and the unwavering support of the Crown. Now, you’ve given King Edward every reason to brand us as rebels! You are gambling with the lives of thousands of Northreach citizens for the sake of your ego!”

​Roland did not flinch, his expression remaining a mask of granite. ”Ego? Marcus brought four hundred Silver Eagle cavalrymen to execute me without a trial. If I had let him live, he would have eventually brought ruin to Northreach because he viewed our existence as a threat to his future reign. I simply cut the problem at its root.”

​”The root?” Rianor scoffed sardonically. ”You’ve just doused that root in gasoline! Now Father has to go to Sol-Regis to offer his own neck? Or do you wish for us all to end up swinging from a gallows?”

​”Enough, Rianor. Sit down,” Aurelia commanded. Her voice was soft, yet it contained a core of authority that was impossible to defy. Rianor gritted his teeth, his chest heaving with indignation, before slowly lowering himself back into his chair.

​Aurelia looked at Roland, then at Lucian. ”What has happened is done. Berating Roland now will not breathe life back into the Prince. We must focus entirely on our next moves.”

​Riven, the eldest son who had been silently observing the exchange like a hawk, finally spoke. ”The legions are ready to move if the situation in Sol-Regis deteriorates, Father. I can have the cavalry and mobile infantry stationed at the southern border of Northreach within seventy-two hours.”

​Lucian shook his head slowly. ”That would only confirm the allegations of treason. I will go to Sol-Regis. However, the original plan has changed. Roland, you will not be accompanying me.”

​Roland’s brow furrowed. ”Father, the responsibility is mine. I should be the one to explain—”

​”No,” Lucian cut him off firmly. ”If you set foot in Sol-Regis, Edward will have your head mounted on the palace gates before you even have a chance to speak. I need you here.”

​Lucian leaned forward, his intensity shifting. ”Your task is to guard Seraphina. That Dragon Princess is the absolute key to our alliance with Draconia. If something should happen to me in the capital, you must ensure that those dragons remain on the side of Sudrath, rather than turning wild and incinerating our own city in a fit of rage.”

​Roland remained silent for a moment, then lowered his head in a gesture of submission. ”As you wish, Father. I understand.”

​On the other side of the long table, Rumina looked preoccupied, her mind clearly racing through spreadsheets. Her fingers tapped against the wood in a rhythm that matched the calculations in her head. ”If the King officially severs trade ties with us, we will lose all access to the southern textile and grain markets. Our revenue from mineral exports will plummet by forty percent within a single month.”

​”And what is the contingency, Rumina?” asked Rhea. She was leaning back weakly in her chair, occasionally pressing a hand to her stomach to combat the waves of morning sickness from her six-week pregnancy.

​”I will accelerate the contract negotiations with Madam Vernazza of the Emerald Union,” Rumina answered without hesitation. ”We can no longer afford to be economically tethered to Aethelgard. We need external partners who are hungry for our technology and our luxury goods. Madam Vernazza may have been swindled by Roland with glass goblets four years ago, but she is a businesswoman first and foremost. She will forgive Roland’s past transgressions if I offer her a total monopoly on Lustrous Mirror trade in her territories.”

​Lucian nodded, satisfied with Rumina’s cold-blooded analysis. He then turned his attention toward Caelus. ”Prince Caelus. The letter from your father is a summons for every noble under the Sun Throne. That includes you. You have a choice to make tonight.”

​Raveena turned her head toward Caelus. She didn’t say a word; her body was still weak, and her voice seemed to have failed her. However, her large, clear eyes reflected a profound, hidden sadness. She knew that if Caelus returned to the capital, they would likely find themselves on opposite sides of a barricade. Sudrath would be labeled as rebels, and Caelus would be forced into becoming a royal tool to suppress them.

​Caelus looked at Raveena, then at Lucian. He took a deep, steadying breath. ”The Palace of Light is no longer my home, Duke Lucian. My family has always viewed me as a disappointment, a spare part. If I return now, I will merely be used as a political pawn to exert pressure on House Sudrath.”

​Caelus stood up and offered a respectful bow. ”I shall remain in Northreach. I stand here as a knight of Sudrath, not as a prince of Aethelgard.”

​Raveena let out a long, silent breath of relief, a faint, genuine smile gracing her pale features.

​”A brave decision, lad,” Lucian remarked, his voice softening slightly.

​Suddenly, from the deep shadows in the corner of the room where the chandelier light couldn’t reach, a man stepped forward. He wore tight black tactical gear covered by a charcoal-grey cloak. His face was a mask of indifference, his eyes cold as if he had long ago shed all human emotion.

​”Preparations are complete, Master Duke,” the man’s voice was sharp and clinical.

​”I need eyes in the darkness of Sol-Regis,” Lucian continued, acknowledging the newcomer. ”Nyx, you will lead a specialized detachment to infiltrate the capital. I want to know exactly what the Solari faction is plotting behind closed doors.”

​Riven looked at Nyx with a measuring gaze. ”He looks competent enough. But the twenty elite guards I’ve assigned you won’t be enough if the Church decides to intervene with their Paladin divisions.”

​”We are not going there to wage a war,” Aurelia reminded them gently, her voice acting as a balm to the rising tension. ”We are going there to negotiate the future of our people.”

​Despite the crushing weight of the conversation, Lucian signaled for them to begin eating. Raphael, the hungriest of the lot, immediately dug into his soto ayam, even as his mind was filled with images of clashing steel and dragon fire. They ate together—a long-standing Sudrath tradition to maintain their strength regardless of the storms that awaited them on the horizon.

​That night, in the Dining Hall of Iron Hearth, the battle lines were drawn. Not against the Iron Empire far to the North, but against the very Crown they had served for generations.