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

Chapter 157: Chapter 157: THE RETURN OF THE LION (1)

​Ten days after the successful test of Garrick’s Fury, the snow along the southern path began to thicken. The wind blew, carrying white powder that danced in the air, as if welcoming the arrival of a long-awaited figure.

​In the distance, a small convoy appeared on the horizon.

​A luxurious carriage bearing the crest of House Sudrath—the Howling Wolf—moved slowly along the snowy road. It was escorted by nineteen elite soldiers. Five of them wore the signature camouflage cloaks of the Ghost Squad, with Gauss rifles slung across their backs. The other fourteen were infantrymen clad in nylon-magitech armor, their Sudrath Spears held in constant readiness.

​Among the guards moved a figure who traveled in silence, drawing no attention—Nyx, the deputy leader of the Nightshade Sentinels, disguised as an ordinary escort. Her sharp eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, ensuring no threat approached her master.

​Inside the carriage, Lucian sat upright, though weeks of travel had tested his physical endurance. Beside him, Thorne occasionally rubbed his temples—a sign that even a soldier of his caliber felt the weight of exhaustion.

​”Your Grace,” Thorne broke the silence, ”we are almost there.”

​Lucian only nodded. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, where the industrial chimneys of Iron Hearth were beginning to loom through the haze. Smoke mingled with mana-steam billowed into the sky, creating a stark contrast against the pristine white of the snow.

​”For weeks,” Lucian finally spoke, his voice low and resonant, ”I have missed this sight.”

​Thorne offered a thin smile. ”The smell of iron and smoke?”

​”The smell of home.”

​The Southern Gate of Iron Hearth soon came into clear view. Citizens passing by stopped in their tracks, staring at the procession with various expressions.

​An old merchant nudged his wife. ”Look, it’s Duke Lucian! He has returned!”

​His wife narrowed her eyes to see better. ”Thank the heavens... the rumors in the market said he was being tried in Sol-Regis. We feared he would never come back.”

​By the roadside, a young child ran closer, his eyes sparkling at the sight of the fully armed soldiers. ”Whoa... that’s so cool!” he chirped.

​His mother pulled him back quickly. ”Don’t get too close, child. Those are the soldiers.”

​The boy didn’t care. He continued to wave his small hand enthusiastically at the convoy.

​From behind the carriage curtains, Lucian watched the scene. For a fleeting second, the corner of his lips lifted—so subtle it was almost invisible. But Thorne, sitting beside him, knew. It was a smile.

​”Your people missed you, Your Grace,” Thorne murmured.

​Lucian did not reply. He simply continued to look out, observing his city, his people, and the home he had not stepped foot in for far too long.

​A middle-aged woman among the crowd suddenly shouted, ”Welcome back, Your Grace!”

​Others joined the cheer. Not everyone—many still watched in silence, or even with indifference. But there were enough who welcomed him warmly.

​Lucian gave a slight, dignified nod in their direction. It was more than enough.

​At Iron Hearth Castle, news of Lucian’s arrival had preceded him.

​Aurelia stood at the main gate, flanked by Rhea, Raveena, Raphael, and Grimm. Her white hair was perfectly styled, and a magnificent dark blue cloak draped over her frame. At fifty-one, she remained as graceful as the day Lucian first saw her decades ago. But beneath her composure, her fingers were tightly interlaced—nervousness, anxiety, and an unspoken longing gnawing at her.

​Grimm, the loyal old head butler, stood beside her with a rigid posture. Despite his advanced age, his eyes were sharp as he supervised the servants preparing for the Duke’s reception. ”Duchess, warm tea has been prepared in the drawing room. Along with the Duke’s favorite light snacks.”

​”Thank you, Grimm.” Aurelia smiled faintly. ”You always know exactly what we need.”

​Grimm bowed politely. ”It is my duty, Duchess.”

​Rhea stood with one hand resting on her hip—unconsciously, the position slightly shielded her belly, which was beginning to swell. Ember was nowhere to be seen, but Rhea knew she was nearby, watching from the shadows. As the overseer of the Nightshade Sentinels, she always ensured the family’s safety, even when not on official duty.

​”You should be resting,” Rhea muttered to herself, feeling a slight bout of dizziness. But she brushed it off. Her father was coming home. That was more important.

​Raveena clutched the hem of her cloak anxiously. Her black hair was slightly disheveled—a sign that she had sprinted from her room the moment she heard the news. Caelus, who had been training with her, would likely follow later. But for now, only one thought occupied her mind: Father is home.

​”Sister Rhea,” Raveena whispered, ”will Father be angry?”

​Rhea looked down at her youngest sister. ”Angry about what?”

​”Well... about Roland. About the Marcus issue. About—”

​”Father has forgiven Roland,” Rhea interrupted firmly. ”He explained everything in his letter. Father was angry, yes. But he is also our father. He will always forgive us.”

​Raveena exhaled a long breath of relief. But in her eyes, a lingering trace of worry remained.

​Raphael stood with his chest puffed out. At fourteen, he was already learning the ways of a future knight. But behind his stoic posture, his eyes twinkled like a child waiting for his father’s return. He had trained relentlessly while his father was away. He wanted to show that he had changed—that he was no longer the hot-tempered brat who used to cause trouble at the academy.

​”Father will surely be proud of me now,” he muttered softly.

​Raveena smiled hearing him. ”Definitely, Raphael. Definitely.”

​In another wing of the castle, in the Treasurer’s Office, Rumina did not join the gathering at the gate.

​She sat in her chair, surrounded by mountains of paperwork and ledgers. Silas, her loyal assistant, stood beside her with an expression of practiced patience—a look he had refined over years of working under Rumina.

​”Lady Rumina,” Silas began cautiously, ”are you certain you do not wish to greet Duke Lucian? He has been gone a long time, and—”

​”Silas.” Rumina raised a finger without looking up from her papers. ”I am currently calculating the operational costs of 500 dragons over the last few weeks. Do you know the figure staring back at me right now?”

​Silas shook his head.

​”A figure that could make my father faint.” Rumina finally looked up, her eyes slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep. ”I will greet him later. After I ensure we don’t go bankrupt before the war even begins.”

​Silas sighed. ”It is because My Lady is far too responsible.”

​”Or far too stupid for accepting this position,” Rumina grumbled, though her hand continued to write. ”Now, be quiet and help me verify these numbers. If there is a single error, we could lose enough gold to buy ten new tanks.”

​Silas could only nod in resignation.

​At the main gate, the carriage finally came to a halt.

​Thorne stepped down first, opening the door. Then, Lucian stepped out.

​His military uniform was still pristine despite weeks of travel—thanks to the rigorous care of his guards who ensured their Duke maintained his commanding presence. His gray hair was neatly set, and his face remained stoic. But when his eyes met Aurelia’s, something within that iron exterior softened.

​Aurelia could not help herself. She stepped forward, moving past the soldiers, past the protocol, and past everything else.

​”You’re home.”

​Two words. Simple. But they carried a million meanings.

​Lucian nodded. ”I’m home.”

​They embraced. In front of the family, in front of the soldiers, in front of the servants. A Duke and his Duchess, both over fifty years old, clinging to each other like newlyweds long separated.

​There were no over-the-top romantic words. No poetry. Only a tight embrace that spoke volumes.

​”You’ve grown thin,” Aurelia whispered against her husband’s shoulder.

​”And you remain beautiful.”

​”Nonsense.” Aurelia tapped his arm lightly, but did not break the embrace. ”Nonsense as always.”

​”I am serious.”

​Aurelia finally pulled back, looking into her husband’s face. Her eyes shimmered—but she was too strong to cry in public. ”You must be exhausted. I have prepared warm tea and—”

​”One moment.” Lucian turned, searching for someone. ”Rianor?”

​Rhea answered, ”He is on his way. As soon as he heard of your arrival, he left the workshop. It should take him about twenty minutes.”

​Lucian nodded. ”Very well. I shall wait in my study.” He looked at Aurelia. ”We shall catch up later.”

​Aurelia nodded understandingly. This was family business, but it was also state business. She was used to it.

​Raveena suddenly ran forward, hugging her father. ”Father! Welcome home!”

​Lucian smiled—a warm smile he reserved only for his children. ”Raveena. You look healthier.”

​”I’ve recovered, Father. My mana has returned.”

​”Thank heavens.” Lucian stroked her hair. ”You gave us quite a scare.”

​Raphael approached with a steady stride, then gave a sharp military salute. ”Father, welcome back.”

​Lucian gazed at his youngest son. In his eyes, there was a spark of pride. ”You’ve grown, boy. Keep up your training.”

​Raphael grinned widely—a child’s smile successfully hidden behind a mask of maturity.

​Rhea finally approached. There was no hug—that wasn’t her way. But she placed a hand on her father’s arm, a gesture that was more than enough to show her affection. ”Father.”

​Lucian looked at her belly, which was beginning to show. ”How is my future grandchild?”

​Rhea offered a thin smile. ”Healthy. And very active.”

​”I am glad to hear it.”

​Grimm bowed deeply. ”Welcome back, Your Grace. This residence felt far too quiet without your presence.”

​Lucian nodded to his loyal head butler. ”Thank you, Grimm. I trust you’ve kept everything in order while I was away.”

​”It was my honor, Your Grace.”

​Lucian glanced toward the castle. ”Where are Riven and Roland?”

​”Riven is training with Caelus. Roland is likely in his room,” Rhea answered. ”They will be here shortly.”

​Lucian nodded. ”Fine. I will head to my study first. Rianor can meet me directly there.”

​Twenty minutes later, Rianor arrived at the castle.

​He walked briskly—not running, for that would be unbefitting for the head of Sudrath Tech research. But his pace was clearly faster than usual. On his hands, there were still faint traces of oil from the workshop. He hadn’t even had time to clean himself properly. His work clothes were still on, and his hair was slightly disheveled by the wind.

​In the castle corridor, he crossed paths with Raveena.

​”Brother Rianor!” Raveena greeted him. ”Father is in his study.”

​”I know.” Rianor nodded, continuing his stride.

​”Brother, don’t forget to—”

​Rianor had already vanished around the corner.

​Raveena could only sigh. ”—say welcome home first...” she murmured to herself.