Overwhelming Firepower

Viscount Cedric Darenthal, one of the few true neutral nobles in Norvaegard. He was now in a meeting with Marquis Cyrant Drexford, a noble who was known by many to hate the four ducal households.

The Marquis sat across from him, medium build, his frame carrying the weight of a man who had stood on real battlefields.

His attire was refined, almost luxurious, yet it couldn’t hide the hardened muscle beneath. Even worse, his aura seeped out unconsciously, like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath, which made Cedric feel a little uncomfortable.

’To think he came to visit me, I already have a guess of what he wants to talk about, but let’s see where this goes.’ Cedric showed a courteous smile as he spoke.

”To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting the esteemed Marquis Drexford?”

The Marquis’s lips pulled into the kind of smile that held no warmth, the smile of a man who came not to converse, but to convince.

”I wished to speak with you regarding the current balance of power in our beloved Norvaegard,” Drexford said, voice calm yet heavy. ”Surely even you have noticed... The Duchies grow more arrogant by the year.”

Cedric made no reaction. He simply raised his cup of tea, sipping slowly, letting the silence stretch just enough to imply he was listening, not agreeing. Drexford stared at Cedric for a few seconds before continuing.

”Each one holds so much power and does whatever they want. The Runescars have provoked many neighboring kingdoms by always looking for a fight. The Judicars may sound holy and just, but they use their power to push their own idea of righteousness on others. The Aeromonts hold secrets that could possibly destroy our kingdom, but never share the information with other noble houses as if we are all beneath them. Worse of the bunch is the Thorneharts, under the guise of protection, they build up their power that could eventually start a coup!”

Cedric’s eyelid twitched, the smallest reaction, barely noticeable beneath his calm mask. Accusing the Iron Duke of plotting a coup was not a light statement. Among the current Dukes, the Iron Duke and his son were the most popular and well-liked.

Cedric gently set down his teacup, the porcelain giving a soft clink against the table. He breathed a subtle breath in.

”Those are bold claims, Marquis Drexford,” Cedric replied, tone light but measured. ”Dangerous, if spoken in the wrong company.”

Drexford leaned forward, unbothered, perhaps even emboldened.

”I trust you, Viscount. You are not blinded by the shine of hypocrisy, nor are you chained by fear. You see things as they are.” His gaze sharpened.

”The dukes expand their influence every year. Soldiers, wealth, prestige, and now new technologies are spreading under Thornehart’s banner. Those Strange weapons which they care not to share with other nobles.”

”Have they not shared it with the royals, which is why the Iron Wolves exist now?” Cedric’s voice was casual, but his gaze was steady, testing, probing. Drexford’s jaw tightened for the first time.

”Shared?” he scoffed, a bitter laugh leaving his throat. ”They revealed just enough to appease His Majesty, and kept the heart of their invention for themselves. Did they share how to produce those weapons? How do they manufacture ammunition? No! They hoard knowledge, grow factories in the North, and train soldiers under their own banner.”

He leaned back, fingers tapping once on the armrest.

”Do you not find it strange that a household meant to defend now arms itself like an independent nation?”

Cedric swirled the tea in his cup, watching the steam rise. ”Well, the monster waves have been getting stronger, and the intervals have become shorter. There’s also the increase in monster activity all around Norvaegard. Not to mention, they are also the reason why the barbarians have been at peace with us.”

Cedric’s words were logical, objective, but they also subtly defended the Thorneharts. Exactly the kind of response Drexford despised. A faint vein pulsed on Drexford’s temple.

”Don’t you see, Viscount?! Right now, the Dukedom of Stellhart has the strongest military force among the four ducal households, and in some respects is superior to the royal army. Did you hear me!? A ducal household having a stronger army than the royal family! Isn’t that absurd!”

Drexford’s voice had risen. Not enough to be shouting, but loud enough that the maids outside the hall froze mid-step.

Cedric calmly set his cup back down. ”Absurd?” he echoed softly. ”Or necessary?”

The Marquis glared, breath tight, chest rising with unspoken frustration. Cedric continued, unhurried, as though discussing weather rather than treasonous ideas.

”If the North falls, Norvaegard follows. Who has held the line against barbarian tribes for generations? Who fights endlessly against monsters so that the rest of us may sleep soundly in our estates? I might not like how the Iron Duke does certain things, but I cannot deny what he has done.”

He tilted his head, eyes serene. ”Should we complain that they became good at it?”

The Marquis gnashed his teeth in irritation as he tried to hold back his killing intent. ”A noble family having too much power that not even the crown has, without any other force to counter it, is utterly foolish.”

A sharp edge slipped into Drexford’s tone, controlled but unmistakable. His fingers tightened on the wooden armrest, faint cracks forming beneath his grip.

Cedric felt the aura pressure grow heavier, like a storm pressing against the windows. Still, his expression did not change.

”Power invites imbalance,” Cedric acknowledged calmly. ”But fear of imbalance births war.” His gaze turned faintly cold for the first time. ”And war, Marquis, is far more foolish than power.”

Drexford’s jaw clenched. He leaned back, crossing his legs, voice lower, as though every word now carried weight sharper than steel.

”Then perhaps,” he said slowly, ”we must ensure balance ourselves.”

Cedric’s fingers halted mid-stir of his tea. The implication hung in the air, poisonous and bold. ”Then do tell me, Marquis, how do we achieve that? What is the reason for your visit here?”

Drexford’s lips stretched into a thin smile as his eyes became sharp, like a hawk’s before it swooped down on its prey.

He set his teacup down with deliberate grace, as if placing a piece on a chessboard. It was quite something that the teacup did not break as he held it while his aura was leaking.

”I propose a coalition,” he said, voice deceptively soft. ”A gathering of like-minded nobles who prioritize Norvaegard over ancient prestige. A network that stands not against the Duchies, mind you, but to stand for the crown as we all should. To ensure the power of the realm does not tilt too far to one side.”

”A balancing force...” Cedric paused for a second before continuing. ”I have heard rumors about such a coalition already existing.”

The second Cedric said those words, the Marquis’s killing intent spread outward. ”Those filth are worse than the Ducal households! Those filth know no honor, and are doing things not of loyalty to the crown or the people of Norvaegard, but for themselves!”

Cedric did not flinch, though a colder edge entered his gaze. ”So, your intention is to form a different faction.” He set his cup down deliberately. ”One you control.”

Marquis Drexford reeled in his killing intent before responding. ”No, we would be equal in the coalition, no matter where we stand. I only intend to unite those who truly care for this kingdom,” he corrected sharply.

”Not scavengers waiting for scraps, nor warmongers blinded by pride. I speak of nobles who understand that if any of the Dukes one day turn their blades inward, Norvaegard might fall before a single spell is cast.”

He leaned forward, voice dropping, conviction sharpening into steel. ”We need a counterweight. A blade to balance another blade. That is why I have come to you, Viscount. You are respected, unaligned, and intelligent. Your voice carries weight among the court. I wish for us to be allies for the love of our kingdom, Norvaegard.”

Cedric closed his eyes in silence and, after several seconds, opened them and spoke. ”I will think about your proposal, Marquis.”

Hearing Cedric’s answer, Drexford knew there was nothing more to say as he stood up. ”I hope to get a positive answer, Viscount.”

Drexford offered a polite bow, though the hostility beneath his eyes never faded.The moment he turned to leave, the air seemed to lighten, only slightly. Cedric remained seated, watching the Marquis’s back as he walked toward the exit.

As the doors opened, Drexford paused without looking back.

”Do keep in mind, Viscount...” His voice was calm, dangerously calm. ”Neutral ground is only safe until two sides begin to march.”

”I will keep that in mind, Marquis.”

Hearing Cedric’s answer, Drexford exited the room. The door closed behind him with a heavy thud, and silence returned to the hall.

Cedric let out the breath he had been holding, quiet, controlled. His hand lowered to the teacup, but the tea had long gone cold.

”A coalition, was it?” he murmured. ”This same as those radicals but more defensive.” Cedrice couldn’t help but sigh. ”I can no longer foresee what will happen next, but I’m sure it will be most unpleasant.”

***

In a different area of Norvaegard, the leader of the so-called radicals, in Cedric’s mouth, had met with Viscount Reval Drenwick, having a rather similar conversation, but instead of a defensive battle, this one was about attacking.

Also, unlike Cedric, who remained ambiguous and mostly neutral, Reval quickly agreed to join.

It was slow, like the first crack in a dam, but it had begun. In one mansion, a defensive alliance was seeded. In another, a blade was sharpened for a strike.

Unlike in the game, this time Lucen Thornehart was alive, armed, and ready. History would not repeat itself quietly.