Chapter 109: Power Shift

  The morning air carried a crisp freshness as Thalron and his companions made their way through the elegant streets of Nireen. It was still surreal—walking through the city as someone truly acknowledged rather than ignored or mocked. The victory from the duel had shifted perceptions, albeit begrudgingly. The elves, ever proud and distant, still held their noses high, but now, when their eyes passed over Thalron, they carried something new—recognition.

  Marcus walked alongside him, hands in his pockets, eyeing the subtle shifts in how people treated Thalron. "They’re still pricks, but at least they’re giving you a little respect now."

  Arixa smirked. "That’s about as much as you can ask for from a high elf."

  Thalron gave a short chuckle but said nothing. He was too focused on what lay ahead. The victory had not just been a personal triumph; it was the foundation for something greater. His mother’s house—House Kelcrest—had been reduced to whispers in the shadows, a forgotten name in elven nobility. That was about to change.

  As they approached Sylven’s estate, Thalron noted the contrast between it and the other noble houses. It lacked the opulence of House Ulthar’s marble-clad halls or House Maevren’s sprawling gardens, but it carried an air of quiet dignity. The architecture was regal, yet practical. A house on the rise. A house with something to prove. Just like his own.

  Thalron paused at the steps, taking it all in.

  “Copper for your thoughts?” Vira asked.

  He exhaled, shaking his head. “After today, we’ll lay the groundwork to make both our houses established powers.”

  Vira nodded approvingly, and with that, they made their way inside.

  Sylven received them personally, his demeanor unreadable as always. He had the bearing of a man who knew the weight of every step he took, every word he spoke. He nodded in greeting, his gaze lingering on Thalron just a fraction longer than the others.

  “You put on quite the show last night,” Sylven said as he gestured for them to follow. “The other houses can no longer ignore you, but if both of our houses are to rise, two must fall.”

  The words were spoken so matter-of-factly that for a moment, Thalron could only stare. There was no hesitation in Sylven’s tone—no ifs or maybes. Just certainty.

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  Were gonna get out of here and look around a bit, if you don't mind Lord Slyven.

  Go ahead, Slyven said with a dismissive nod.

  The others excused themselves, giving Thalron and Sylven the space to speak in private. The room Sylven led them to was a study, its walls lined with books and carefully arranged documents. A strategist’s domain.

  Thalron took a seat, folding his hands together. “House Ulthar is the obvious choice,” he said. “They’ve had too much power for too long, and after my duel with Vaelis, they’ve taken a hit.”

  Sylven nodded. “Yes, but that alone isn’t enough. We need something to cripple them politically, not just wound their pride.”

  Thalron leaned forward. “I have something. House Ulthar failed to step in and aid Thane Vulgaris when he tried to claim New York. They let him fall, despite prior promises.”

  Sylven’s brows rose slightly. “And how do you know this?”

  Thalron glanced toward the door where Vira had exited. “Vira has her ways. All we need to do is contact Ragn, New York's spy master...to confirm the information.”

  Sylven’s fingers tapped idly against the wooden desk as he processed the information. “That… we can work with. Betrayal and cowardice are poisons in noble circles. If we can bring undeniable proof to light, we can erode their standing.”

  He leaned back, eyes narrowing in thought. “And then there’s House Maevren.”

  Thalron frowned. “What about them?”

  Sylven gestured toward the window, where beyond the city’s pristine avenues lay the lesser districts—the commoner quarters. “That poverty you see festering in the outskirts? That’s on Maevren’s hands. They’ve been neglecting their duties for decades. The other houses don’t care because it doesn’t affect them, but if it’s formally brought up with evidence? The council will have to act.”

  Thalron fell silent for a moment, memories stirring. He had been young when his mother still held her station, but he remembered that House Kelcrest had been responsible for civil affairs. They were the ones who ensured the well-being of the lesser-born, that disputes were settled fairly, that no one was left entirely destitute.

  “I remember,” Thalron said quietly. “My mother’s house used to manage those affairs.”

  Sylven’s lips curled into a small smile. “That’s why your house must be put back in place. The Kelcrest name was always kind to the lessers.”

  Thalron’s jaw tightened. He hated that term—lessers—but he let it slide. Changing the language of elves wasn’t a battle he could fight today. There were bigger wars ahead.

  The plan was clear: deliver proof of Ulthar’s treachery and Maevren’s mismanagement. With those two houses destabilized, two new powers could rise.

  Sylven turned, fixing Thalron with a sharp gaze. “My house has the financial means, the power, and the influence to take one of the fallen seats. What does Kelcrest have to offer?”

  Thalron didn’t hesitate. He gestured toward the hall where Marcus and the others had gone. “We have the backing of New York and its leadership. And that gives us connections beyond Nireen—resources and allies that the other houses don’t have.”

  Sylven considered this for a long moment, then nodded. “This is good.”

  Thalron could almost feel the weight of the moment settling into place. They weren’t just talking about reclaiming a name. They were planning a seismic shift in power. If they succeeded, history would remember this day as the beginning of the fall of two great houses—and the rise of another two.

  Sylven smirked. “Time waits for no one. Let’s get to work.”