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

The orange hues on the western horizon were slowly swallowed by the pitch-black night. The freezing chill began to creep in, blanketing the back gardens of the Iron Hearth Castle.

​Click... click... click...

​A row of wolf-carved stone lamps ignited in perfect unison. Their golden-yellow glow banished the dark shadows that had been hiding beneath the manicured lawns.

​In the quietest corner, far from the noisy barracks and the airfield, a single Snow Seruni tree stood like a silent sentinel.

​Rianor Sudrath sat leaning against the stone bench beneath it.

​Beside him, Elara sat calmly in her modified Arcanotech wheelchair. A thick cloak was draped over her fragile shoulders. Her rare purple eyes—which no longer held even a single drop of magic energy—stared straight at the blooming Seruni flowers. There was a mute warmth in her gaze.

​”I heard from the kitchen gossip...” Rianor’s voice broke the rhythmic trickle of the nearby fountain. ”...that my annoyingly stubborn youngest brother finally managed to bring a girl to the castle a few days ago.”

​His tone was quiet, nearly devoid of inflection.

​Elara turned her head. A sweet, suppressed smile played on her lips. ”Her name is Elodie. A girl from an ordinary farming family.” She let out a soft chuckle. ”You should have seen how panicked Raphael was this morning. It was incredibly awkward.”

​Rianor fell silent for a moment. Slowly, the corners of the ice-cold man’s lips pulled upward. An extraordinarily rare sight. ”Hmm. Raphael... it seems he is finally growing up.”

​The silence reclaimed the space between them.

​Trickle... trickle... Only the sound of the fountain’s water filled the distance.

​Slowly, Elara’s pale fingers reached out. She gently touched the thick medical bandages wrapping the entirety of Rianor’s left arm. Her caress was incredibly delicate, as if she were stroking cracked porcelain that could shatter at any moment.

​”Does the wound... still hurt often?” Elara whispered painfully.

​Rianor looked down at his left arm, then shifted his gaze to his wife’s face. He didn’t pull his arm away. He let the warmth from Elara’s fingers seep through the bandages, penetrating his numb skin.

​”Only sometimes. When the temperature drops too extremely,” Rianor answered flatly, refusing to dramatize his pain.

​Elara didn’t cry. There were no hysterical sobs. As the wife of a Sudrath, the red-haired woman merely continued stroking the bandages in silence.

​Rianor drew a slow breath. His gray eyes locked onto Elara’s purple ones.

​”El... it turns out my journey isn’t over yet,” Rianor spoke heavily. ”I have to leave again.”

​Elara’s fingers froze mid-air. Just for a second. Before the gentle, rhythmic caress resumed.

​”To Draconia. I promised Roland I would help sort out his affairs,” Rianor continued. ”I don’t know for how long. It could be weeks... or months.”

​”I understand,” Elara replied softly.

​”You’re not angry?”

​Elara looked up. A single, clear teardrop pooled at the corner of her eye, reflecting the glow of the garden lamps. It wasn’t a tear of protest, but one of absolute acceptance.

​”Who do you think I married?” Elara smiled faintly. ”You are an incredibly busy man, Rianor. I know perfectly well... you would never willingly walk away if the world wasn’t forcing your hand.”

​The woman reached for Rianor’s right hand—his only fully intact arm—and gripped it tightly.

​”Go, if it is your duty. Finish it as fast as you can,” Elara stated firmly. ”I survived waiting for you for months without a single word... I can definitely wait for you again. Besides...”

​Elara pressed the back of her husband’s hand against her cheek. ”...you always know how to find your way back home to me.”

​Rianor didn’t answer with words. He returned the grip infinitely tighter, letting the magical silence absorb both of their exhaustion beneath the shade of the Seruni tree.

​Deep within the guest pavilion area.

​The luxurious room felt excessively quiet. The colossal glass window was left half-open, presenting a sweeping panorama of the mana-lamps twinkling across Iron Hearth.

​Eva leaned against the windowsill.

​Her brown hair was tied loosely, letting a few stray strands frame her pale face. The former Heretic Order member stared at the grandeur of the city with an uncertain gaze. Her eyes were now softened by a strange, lingering awe.

​Back then, when she was still crawling through the gutters of Sanctum, she was force-fed the doctrine that Northreach was a den of demons. A heretical city where filthy, sacrilegious machines were forged.

​Yet now, as she truly breathed the air in the heart of this city... there was no scent of hellfire. Instead, there was a completely foreign sensation that felt suspiciously like... home.

​Knock. Knock. Knock.

​”Come in,” Eva called out softly.

​Creak. Adul peeked his head in before stepping inside. The young man carried a silver tray. His hair was as messy as ever. Along his jawline, a blue bruise from the battle at Magniora was still clearly stamped.

​However, something was different.

​The borders of Adul’s skin now radiated an incredibly faint, golden-yellow Aura—resembling docile static electricity. The very same Aura that had violently erupted when he recklessly turned himself into Eva’s human shield against Selene.

​”Dinner,” Adul announced, placing the tray on a small table near the window. ”Wheat soup and toasted bread. Lord Roland said you skipped the main dining hall downstairs.”

​Eva turned her head slowly. She scanned the figure in front of her from top to bottom. The transition was undeniably obvious, from the way Adul planted his feet to his shoulders, which were no longer hunched in perpetual fear.

​”You’ve changed a lot, Adul,” Eva muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

​Adul scratched his temple awkwardly, his face flushing. ”Ah, n-not really. Back then against Master Selene... I was just acting on reckless impulse. Pure luck.”

​”Oh, please. Luck had nothing to do with it,” Eva snorted softly, flatly rejecting the cheap modesty.

​The girl stared straight through Adul’s eyes. ”You always had something lethal inside of you, Adul. You were just too much of a coward to pull the trigger. Yesterday, you finally found the right reason.”

​Adul was stunned. His mouth hung half-open. Slowly, the former coal miner looked down, hiding a small smile that hinted at a newfound understanding.

​He pulled up a wooden chair and sat facing Eva. His eyes also drifted toward the window, looking outside.

​”Do you like it here, Eva?” he asked lightly.

​Eva pulled up her own chair. She slowly tore off a piece of the toasted wheat bread, letting the savory taste of butter soothe her empty stomach.

​”I don’t know.” Eva blew gently on her hot soup. Sip... ”But at the very least... tonight, for the first time in my entire life... I don’t have to sleep clutching the hilt of my dagger.”

​She stared at the hot steam rising from her bowl. ”For an outcast like me, that is more than enough.”

​At the absolute highest peak of the Iron Hearth Castle.

​The Northern night wind blew rather fiercely, biting at Raphael’s face as he stood rigidly on the balcony. His fingers were idly messing with the mechanical puzzle in his hands.

​Failed again.

​He was too lazy to go back inside. His head was currently far too noisy with a million things, yet severely bankrupt of any solutions.

​”Still here?” A flat voice abruptly sliced through the howling wind.

​Rianor appeared at the threshold. His shirt billowed slightly in the night breeze, exposing his left arm, which was still wrapped in thick bandages.

​Instead of facing the glittering city lights, the man with ice-cold eyes stepped closer and leaned his back against the balcony railing. Staring straight at Raphael.

​”Where is Raveena?” Rianor asked.

​Raphael scoffed softly. ”Gone.”

​”To?”

​”Sol-Regis. With Caelus. Took the afternoon train.” Raphael twisted the puzzle panels roughly. Failed again. ”She didn’t even pack anything. Didn’t even bother saying goodbye to Lady Elara. Hah, tomorrow’s Applied Magic class is going to be an absolute disaster.”

​Rianor didn’t respond with a long-winded scolding. He merely gave a slow nod, then lifted his chin to gaze at the constellations above them.

​”Wow, you’re not shocked?” Raphael narrowed his eyes at his older brother.

​”I would be far more shocked if she didn’t go.”

​The corner of Raphael’s lips twitched, fighting back a smile. Raveena was indeed insane. The moment someone she cared about was in danger, that girl would happily dive off a cliff first and worry about thinking later.

​”Elara told me about Elodie,” Rianor shot point-blank, without any warning.

​Raphael’s shoulders instantly locked up. ”W-What did she tell you?”

​”You brought her to the castle. To the library. To the lake.” Rianor counted them off one by one on his right fingers. ”Three locations. In the span of just one week.”

​Raphael averted his gaze downward. ”That’s... well, it’s nothing.”

​”It took Roland years just to make that much progress,” Rianor remarked flatly.

​Raphael snapped his head up. ”Seriously?”

​”And Roland still hasn’t truly succeeded even now.” Rianor tilted his head slightly. ”You move faster than the most accomplished diplomat in this kingdom. That’s... well, not bad.”

​Raphael fell silent. His brain stalled for a moment, processing whether that last sentence was a compliment worth being proud of, or a sharply veiled jab. Rather than acting awkward, he chose to aggressively twist the puzzle in his hands again.

​Click.

​This time, one panel slid smoothly into the correct slot.

​”Hmm. You’ve almost solved it,” Rianor commented.

​Raphael stared intently at the complex metal contraption in his palm. ”You intentionally made this thing insanely difficult, didn’t you?”

​”Of course I did.”

​Raphael clicked his tongue. Tch. But strangely enough, the young man carefully slipped the puzzle back into his trouser pocket.

​He turned around, leaning his back against the iron railing, aligning his shoulder right next to Rianor’s. The two brothers now both looked up, watching the sea of stars above Iron Hearth.

​”Brother,” Raphael called out, his voice barely audible.

​”Hm?”

​”Have you... ever felt terrified?”

​Rianor turned his head slowly. ”Terrified of what?”

​”Like what I’m feeling right now.” Raphael stared at his own calloused palms. ”Brother Riven left. Raveena left. You... you’re definitely going to leave and follow them too. And me... I can only sit here. Waiting.” His voice carried a faint tremor. ”Without being able to do a single damn thing.”

​Rianor didn’t answer immediately. His gray eyes, which were usually hyper-calculative, now stared blankly toward Polaris, the brightest star in the northern constellation.

​”Back in Luminara,” Rianor murmured. His voice was raspy, as if the very words were scraping against his vocal cords. ”I was tortured. Shackled. Burned alive.”

​The man’s gaze dropped, staring at the thick bandages on his left arm. ”Every night, I could only curl up in the corner of my cell. Waiting. Without being able to do a single damn thing.”

​Raphael was stunned. His breath hitched. His brother... practically never opened his mouth to talk about the hellhole named Luminara.

​”And just so you know, I was terrified.” Rianor turned his head, looking deep into his little brother’s eyes. ”Absolutely terrified. Every single second of it.”

​Raphael swallowed hard, the saliva suddenly tasting as bitter as bile. ”Then... how did you get through it?”

​”I locked my mind onto one single thing.” Rianor threw his gaze back toward the glittering city below. ”I kept reminding myself that I had to go home. Because... there was someone waiting for me at home.”

​Raphael reflexively followed the direction of his brother’s gaze. Far down below, the streetlamps of Iron Hearth radiated a warmth that contrasted sharply with the freezing night air.

​In one of those corners of light, Elara was perhaps still awake. And in another corner... Elodie might be staying up late, running her fingers over the pages of her old book.

​”The duty of ’waiting’ doesn’t mean you ’can’t do anything’, Raphael,” Rianor said softly, yet his words echoed powerfully in his brother’s ears. ”Guarding and waiting... that is also a part of the battlefield. And you are not shouldering it alone. Mother is here. Elara is here. Elena.”

​”And Kaelven,” Raphael chimed in spontaneously.

​Rianor furrowed his brows. ”That toddler can only bang on the dining table with a spoon.”

​”Hey, that’s something. He’s got hidden talent as a drummer.”

​Rianor didn’t laugh. Not even a chuckle. Yet... if you looked straight into those usually ice-cold irises, there was a glimmer of warmth expanding within them.

​The two of them stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the northern balcony.

​Just two brothers who both knew the bitter taste of fear, who both understood the crushing weight of waiting, and who both chose to plant their feet firmly—refusing to run away from reality.

​Far below, Iron Hearth blinked peacefully in the embrace of the night. As if the city knew that tonight... on its highest balcony, there were two pairs of eyes standing vigil, waiting for the dawn to arrive.