The Dirrium nobility act : The Architect of Ambition
The Royal Academy of Dirrium was a sanctuary of white marble and soaring arches, designed to make the elite feel untouchable. In the center of the Great Library, Prince Kaelen Hilin Kutomia—the second son, the "spare" overshadowed by his exiled brother and a distant, changing father—sat staring at a map of the world.
Kaelen was sharp, but his ambition was a raw, unguided thing. He felt the kingdom slipping away into the hands of "administrators" and "merchants," and it burned him.
"The border lines are wrong," a calm, resonant voice remarked.
Kaelen jumped, turning to see Leornars standing behind him. The Grand Administrator looked unassuming in his scholar's robes, yet his presence seemed to pull the very light from the room.
"Lord Leornars," Kaelen said, straightening his posture. "I didn't hear you enter."
"In a world of noise, silence is the only way to truly see," Leornars replied, stepping closer to the map. He pointed a long, pale finger at the Western Reach. "Your father has abandoned these territories to slavers and bandits. He is weakening the bloodline of the state. He is... tired, Kaelen."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "I've noticed. He isn't the man who raised me. He speaks of 'unity' and 'restructuring.' It's as if he's forgotten what it means to be a Kutomia."
Leornars let out a soft, sympathetic sigh. "It is the tragedy of age. But a prince in his prime... a prince with the right perspective... could reclaim that glory. If only he had the resources."
Leornars pulled a small, silver-bound book from his sleeve. "This is a private ledger of the Royal Treasury's 'hidden' reserves. Your father doesn't know I kept it. It contains the keys to a private legion of Golem-Knights, powered by Deep-Iron."
Kaelen's breath hitched. "Why are you showing this to me? You are the King's most trusted ally ."
"I am a no servant of this Kingdom, Kaelen. Not necessarily the man who currently wears the crown, and I follow no throne but mine" Leornars said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The King is a sinking ship. You are the lifeboat. If you were to 'discover' these resources and use them to secure the borders, the people wouldn't see a second son. They would see a True King."
Leornars leaned in, his eyes locking onto Kaelen's. "I can help you bypass the Council. I can mask your movements with my illusions. I will be your shadow, providing the math while you provide the spirit."
"You would do this for me?" Kaelen asked, a dangerous spark of hope igniting in his chest.
"I seek balance, Prince," Leornars said with a thin, ephemeral smile. "And a kingdom led by a stagnant old man is... inefficient."
As Kaelen walked away, clutching the "hidden ledger" like a holy relic, Stacian stepped out from behind a row of ancient scrolls.
"The 'hidden' reserves?" she asked, her tone dry. "You mean the Deep-Iron we stole from the Viscountess?"
"Precisely," Leornars said, his expression turning instantly cold. "I'm not giving him a legion. I'm giving him a leash. The Golems are programmed to respond to my mana-signature, not his. By the time he 'reclaims' the borders, every inch of that land will be fortified with my technology and manned by my machines."
"And when he tries to take the throne?"
Leornars clicked his silver pen. "He won't take the throne. He will be 'invited' to lead a vassal state under the protection of Avangard. He will think he is the hero who saved Dirrium from his father's 'madness,' when in reality, he is simply the foreman I've hired to oversee my new territory."
He looked out the library window at the academy courtyard, where Kaelen was already barking orders to his personal guard, his chest puffed out with a deluded sense of destiny.
"He wants to be a legend," Leornars mused. "I will give him the story. I'll even let him keep the crown. But the gold, the iron, and the laws... those belong to the white plague."
"The audit of the Kutomia bloodline," Stacian noted, "is reaching its final page."
"Indeed," Leornars replied. "Let the boy play at war. It makes the transition to a vassal state so much quieter when the Prince believes he's the one who won."