Chapter 43
House of Blackstone
The mountains rose like iron teeth against the gray horizon, their peaks veiled in low-hanging mist. The road that wound upward was narrow and cold, carved from the same dark rock that gave the region its name.The city of Blackstone loomed ahead, a fortress-city born from necessity, not vanity. Its walls were not adorned with banners or carvings, but with arrow slits and scars from old wars.
Riding beside him, Anya adjusted the reins of her horse, her eyes scanning the ridgeline for movement. Her cloak snapped in the wind,.
"They say the Count of Blackstone is a border noble—neutral to every faction, loyal only to the crown's decree. If he values neutrality so much, why are we here? The Second Princess may be heir, but not yet Queen."
Anya's breath misted in the cold air. "Because of a favour," she said evenly, "the Princess cannot risk sending her guards through the Duke's lines and with my lady owing favour I was chosen to bear the risk."
Ahead, a horn echoed from the walls. Figures appeared atop the wall, silhouettes against the mist. Then a squad of mailed soldiers rode down the slope toward them, shields glinting with the obsidian-and-silver sigil of a mountain split by a sword—the crest of Blackstone.
"Halt!" the lead guard called out. "Identify yourselves. This is Blackstone territory. Unregistered armed companies are forbidden within one league of the city walls."
Anya urged her horse forward and drew back her hood. "Anya of Mistvale," she said clearly. "Sworn blade to Lady Elara Rose, daughter of Count Rose. We bear sealed correspondence for Count Blackstone, by the authority of the Second Princess herself."
The soldiers exchanged startled glances. Their captain dismounted, bowing stiffly. "Forgive us, Lady Anya. Wait here." He sent a rider galloping back toward the gate, dust rising behind the hooves.
Kaelen exhaled, tension bleeding from his grip on the reins. "You make quite an entrance," he muttered.
Anya's lips curved faintly. "Neutral or not, even Blackstone cannot ignore the Princess's seal."
Moments later, the gates groaned open. A young man rode out—a striking figure with raven-black hair, light skin, and eyes the color of storm-forged iron. A silver clasp in the shape of a mountain rose held his cloak. He dismounted smoothly and bowed.
"I am See Adrien, heir to the Count," he said. His voice carried both formality and quiet strength. "My father bids you welcome. You will be escorted to the fortress."
---
The climb through Blackstone City revealed a world built for endurance, not beauty. Kaelen watched the landscape shift as they ascended. Unlike Rose City, designed by hierarchy, Blackstone emphasis necessity.
The West City sprawled outward like a gray fan, its streets steep and narrow. Stone-walled homes clung to the mountain's flank, roofs tiled with dark slate. Merchants and miners moved about briskly, their faces weathered, their clothing practical. The scent of smelted ore and wood smoke filled the air.
The East Camp was smaller but bristled with barracks, armories, and training yards. Soldiers drilled in formation, their movements sharp and wordless. The rhythmic clash of steel rang like a heartbeat.
Above them all, the Castle crowned the mountain—a fortress carved directly into the rock itself. Its towers were squat, its walls thick, every line of its architecture speaking of siegecraft and defiance. Blackstone was not meant to dazzle; it was meant to survive.
Kaelen dismounted as they reached the keep's courtyard. Ser Adrien led them through echoing corridors of dark granite, the torches burning with a steady, disciplined light. When they entered the Count's audience chamber, the weight of command hung in the air like gravity itself.
Count Blackstone rose from behind a massive desk of carved basalt. His hair was streaked with silver, his face a map of old battles. A sword belt rested across his chair even here, as though he might be called to the walls at any moment.
His eyes flicked to Anya first, then to Kaelen. "Lady Anya of House Rose. Ser Renly, the knight who humiliated the Fergusons at the Serpent's Pass." A ghost of a smile crossed his weathered face."You did my border no small favor.The Ferguson raiders have been quiet since."
Kaelen inclined his head. "Merely fulfilling my duty, my lord."
The Count's expression hardened. "Duties are not fulfilled—they are endured. You'll learn that if you live long enough." He turned to Anya. "Now tell me, why has a knight sworn to the Rose banner come unbidden to a neutral stronghold, when half the realm teeters on the edge of civil war?"
Anya stepped forward and placed a sealed envelope on his desk. The wax bore the sigil of the Serpent Crown and the Rose intertwined. "A message from the Second Princess, carried at the request of Lady Elara."
The Count broke the seal with a single stroke of a dagger. His eyes moved swiftly across the page. The room was silent save for the soft crackle of the hearth. Kaelen watched the change come over the man—the rigid military mask easing, the sharpness in his eyes giving way to something thoughtful.
When he finished, Count through his smirk, "So,The King's health declines, and his daughter prepares to hold the realm together on his behalf while the vultures circle." His gaze softened fractionally. "Olivia has taught her well. But I owe Lady Elara more than words—for my son's life."
Adrien shifted behind him, lowering his eyes in quiet acknowledgment. "Father—"
The Count silenced him with a raised hand, then addressed them both. "I cannot abandon my border; if the Stonewatch's troops cross, it will be blood on the grass before the crown can be inherited. But…" He drummed his fingers against the desk, a slow rhythm of decision. "For the sake of old debts, and in faith to the realm, I can lend you men."
He stood, every inch the soldier-lord. "A hundred infantry, disciplined and mountain-trained. Thirty cavalry—not parade riders, but rangers who know the passes."
Relief flickered across Anya's face, though she kept her composure."You have our gratitude, my lord."
"You will need more than gratitude." Count's eyes moved to his son. "Adrien."
The young heir straightened. "Father?"
"You owe Lady Elara a debt. You will command the detachment. See that honour on our house was not misplaced."
Adrien bowed low. "I understand."
The Count nodded once, curtly. "Then it is settled. You leave at dawn. Tonight, you will dine as my guests and inspect the troops."
---
The training yards of Blackstone Fortress came alive under torchlight. Rows of soldiers stood ready, armor gleaming faintly beneath the mountain wind. Adrien walked among them with quiet authority, Anya at his side, Kaelen following a step behind. The troops' discipline impressed him—every motion crisp, every salute sharp. This was not the parade-bred army of Rose City; this was a blade honed by necessity.
"You've seen the plan?" Adrien asked as they concluded the inspection.
"Lady Anya will brief us fully in the morning," Kaelen replied. "But I understand we'll strike the Duke's supply lines first."
"Correct," Adrien said, glancing toward the eastern cliffs. "The Duke's army relies on a single mountain road for provisions. Cut that artery, and the beast will starve."
"Assuming it doesn't bite first," Kaelen murmured.
Adrien smiled faintly. "Then we make sure it won't find the hand."
Dinner that evening was brief but warm—bread, spiced lamb, and the kind of silence soldiers keep before a storm. Count Garran offered a final toast: "To duty, to debts repaid, and to stones that do not yield." Kaelen drank, the wine heavy and bitter, like iron on his tongue.
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Morning came cold and sharp. The banners of Blackstone Clan hung still in the dawn wind. In the fortress courtyard, the combined forces assembled—three official knights, fifty cavalry, and over a hundred infantry, joined by Kaelen's own twenty-man contingent. Horses stamped, steel clattered, and the air hummed with restrained anticipation.
Anya stood before them, voice steady as she outlined the plan. "We strike before the Duke's next convoy crosses the ridge.Renly's squad will move ahead to cut communications. Ser Adrien will lead the main force from the east. Once the enemy's supplies starts to burn, we escap in the woods."
Adrien mounted his horse, raising the Blackstone banner high."By the command of Count, March!" he called.
A roar rose from the troops, echoing off the mountain walls. Kaelen instructed his troops with a hand sign.
As they set out down the mountain road, the mists parted briefly. The sunlight struck the armor of the vanguard, turning them to moving shards of silver. Behind them, the fortress gates closed with a sound like thunder.
Kaelen glanced once toward the horizon—the road that led to war, and perhaps to his future in both worlds to conquer before they conquer me.
By the time the sun reached its zenith, the army of stone and steel was already descending toward the valley, the storm of destiny gathering in their wake.