SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Chapter 435: Chapter 435: The Fall of the Thal’zar [XLIX]

The chamber gradually emptied.

One by one, the remaining heads of the allied houses withdrew, the echo of measured footsteps fading beyond the heavy doors. The guards stationed outside did not move from their posts, but the tension that had filled the room during collective discussion settled into something quieter, denser.

When the doors finally closed, only two figures remained seated at the long table.

Valttair du Morgain.

Elenara au Sylvanel.

Two of the Eight, left alone to decide the fate of the eighth.

The torches along the walls burned steadily, casting restrained light over the documents still spread across the polished surface. Kaedor was dead. His authority, once absolute within Thal’zar, had ended on the battlefield. The seat he occupied could not remain vacant. A void at that level would invite instability, speculation, and intervention from forces neither of them wished to empower.

The balance of the world depended on continuity.

And continuity required a name.

Ten candidates stood between them and resolution. Seven heirs. Three wives. Bloodline intact, hierarchy broken.

This was not a matter of inheritance in the traditional sense. It was not about legitimacy or sentiment. It was about selecting a figure who could be placed at the head of House Thal’zar without disrupting the structure that governed the Eight Great Families.

Someone capable enough to maintain internal order.

Someone limited enough to remain within boundaries.

Someone who would not fracture alliances or seek independence at the wrong moment.

In short, someone who could be guided. Or rather, controllable.

Elenara’s fingers rested lightly over the organized documents before her, already arranged long before the rest of the council had concluded. Valttair remained seated opposite her, gaze lowered briefly toward the table as if weighing pieces already in motion.

Elenara adjusted a single sheet with precise movement, aligning the stack before her until every edge matched.

The documents had been prepared in advance. Backgrounds. Alliances. Temperament. Marriages. External ties. Internal rivalries. Nothing on that table was partial. Every candidate had been reduced to record and assessment.

Order.

Across the polished surface, the names lay arranged in deliberate sequence.

Heirs

Adrian du Thal’zar (41)

Helena du Thal’zar (36)

Lucien du Thal’zar (28)

Maris du Thal’zar (25)

Darian du Thal’zar (22)

Corin du Thal’zar (15)

Elise du Thal’zar (11)

Opposite them, separated by a subtle shift in parchment tone:

Wives

Isolde du Thal’zar (63)

Vera du Thal’zar (52)

Celine du Thal’zar (46)

Ten names.

Ten possible directions for a house that could not be allowed to drift.

The air in the chamber felt heavier now that discussion had narrowed from global implications to surgical selection. This was not public debate. This was architecture.

Elenara’s expression remained unreadable as she rested her hand lightly atop the first document.

Valttair’s gaze moved once across the list, not lingering on any particular name, yet missing none.

Elenara lifted the first document without hesitation.

”Adrian du Thal’zar,” she said evenly. ”Forty-one. The eldest son. The expected successor under normal succession.”

She turned the page slightly so Valttair could see the summary beneath the name.

”He is married into two minor lycan houses. Both alliances are stable on paper. In practice, he has maintained numerous external affairs despite those bindings. His conduct is... indulgent. Socially reckless. Politically careless.”

Her eyes flicked briefly toward Valttair.

”He believes authority would legitimize his behavior rather than restrain it.”

Valttair did not take the page.

”Discarded,” he said.

The word fell cleanly between them.

”He is not someone we can shape. Grant him a seat and he will interpret it as validation. He will test limits. He will create noise.”

His gaze shifted briefly toward the edge of the table.

”If he is allowed to continue his current life—wealth, excess, distance from decision-making—he will remain occupied. As head of Thal’zar, he becomes a variable.”

Elenara inclined her head slightly.

”Agreed.”

She placed Adrian’s document aside and removed it from any further consideration.

The first name had fallen.

Elenara drew the next document forward.

”Helena du Thal’zar,” she said. ”Thirty-six. She chose her own husband rather than accepting a negotiated match. That alone speaks to her temperament.”

She allowed a brief pause before continuing.

”She is intelligent. Disciplined. Capable of understanding the structural position she would occupy. Of all the older heirs, she would adapt fastest to external pressure.”

Valttair listened without interruption.

Elenara’s gaze lowered slightly to the lower section of the report.

”The complication is not Helena herself,” she said. ”It is her mother.”

She did not need to elaborate much.

”Isolde du Thal’zar. Sixty-three. Present in most Councils during Kaedor’s tenure. Vocal. Assertive. Politically active beyond what was customary for a consort.”

Her fingers tapped once against the parchment.

”She carries ambition.”

Elenara glanced up briefly.

”Her name resembles that of one of your wives, does it not?”

Valttair’s expression did not shift.

”Do not divert,” he said calmly. ”I know Isolde. She inserted herself into matters that did not concern her. She enjoyed visibility.”

His gaze hardened slightly.

”Helena would not sit alone. Isolde would stand behind her.”

Elenara held his eyes for a moment longer before nodding.

”Yes. The mother would speak through the daughter.”

That was sufficient.

Elenara lifted the document and, without ceremony, let it fall to the stone floor beside Adrian’s.

Two names removed.

Valttair’s gaze moved further down the list without touching the papers.

”Corin du Thal’zar. Fifteen. Elise du Thal’zar. Eleven,” he said, his tone steady, already assessing before Elenara spoke.

Elenara slid both documents forward so they rested side by side.

”They are young,” she said. ”Too young to command the loyalty of the internal branches. Too young to withstand pressure from external factions. Their positions would depend entirely on whoever stands behind them.”

Valttair’s eyes remained on the names.

”They would not survive the year,” he replied. ”Their older siblings would remove them quietly if ambition outweighs patience. Even if that did not occur, their authority would be hollow. They would sign what is placed before them and struggle to understand the cost.”

Elenara tilted her head slightly. ”We could raise one of them as a long-term instrument. Shape them from now. Secure their loyalty early.”

Valttair exhaled faintly.

”That would require time,” he said. ”Time we do not have.”

Elenara’s gaze sharpened. ”Why not?”

He met her eyes directly.

”There will be a Council,” he said. ”The Eight will convene again. The world will be watching whether we acknowledge it or not. The Council of Sages will question the vacuum. They always do. If Thal’zar remains without a head, it invites speculation, interference, and imbalance.”

His voice did not rise.

”We cannot allow uncertainty. The position must be filled before the next assembly. Stability must appear intact.”

Elenara studied him for a moment before nodding once.

”The youngest are not viable.”

Valttair’s gaze returned to the remaining names.

”No.”

Silence settled between them again, thinner now that half the board had been cleared.

Elenara gathered the remaining documents into a smaller stack and drew three of them forward, aligning them carefully at the center of the table.

”Then we are left with three,” she said.

Lucien du Thal’zar (28).

Maris du Thal’zar (25).

Darian du Thal’zar (22).

The names lay in a quiet row beneath the torchlight.

Valttair’s gaze rested on Lucien first. Twenty-eight. Old enough to command without appearing inexperienced. Young enough to still be shaped by pressure. Then Maris. Twenty-five. Intelligent by report, politically perceptive, less visible than her elder siblings. And finally Darian. Twenty-two. The youngest of the viable trio. Ambition noted. Temperament uncertain.

”These three are within the window,” Elenara said. ”They are established enough to assume the seat without immediate collapse. None of them carry the shadow of Isolde in the same way Helena does. None of them are so young that they would invite immediate internal challenges.”

Each of the three represented a different trajectory. One would seek autonomy. One would calculate carefully. One might move faster than expected. Elenara’s gaze did not leave the three names.

”You know perfectly well we have to choose the one who benefits us the most,” she said. ”It will be the one we use, and it will be the one who votes in our favor at the Council every time. Even if there is no agreement within the family regarding the position of head, we will force them to accept it. It will be easy.”

Valttair did not immediately look at her. His attention remained on the documents.

”We will see whether it will truly be easy or not,” he replied evenly. ”We may have to dispose of one or two more if they attempt to oppose it.”

Elenara’s expression did not soften.

”That is not something I cannot do,” she said. ”I still have the desire to spill more of their blood for what they did, so I will not hesitate. Besides, technically, I am still within my rights under wartime authority.”

Valttair offered no response.

His eyes lowered to the papers before them, studying the three remaining names in silence.