Valdrin sat on a chair in his room, leaning back, lost in thought about the future.
Not long ago, the Windwalker family had proposed a deal to eliminate his brother, Kaelith.
The agreement undeniably benefited him—it guaranteed his complete control over the Darkwind family. His brother would be eliminated, and his territory would be divided. However, this very point posed a significant problem. The land Kaelith controlled wasn't just his; it was part of the Darkwind family's domain. Having it split among the Windwalker family meant a direct loss of power and influence.
To make matters worse, another clause in the deal stated that any territory the Windwalker family conquered during this time wouldn’t be fully returned to the Darkwind family. Instead, it would be subject to negotiations, leaving its fate uncertain. After everything was said and done, the Darkwind family would be significantly weaker, and he knew it.
The agreement required him to send his army to attack his brother, Kaelith, from behind, while the Windwalker family would strike from the front, crippling his brother’s forces. But that wasn’t the only part of the plan. Valdrin was already aware that the Windwalker family had hired assassins—killers who would target Kaelith and the nobles supporting him, creating chaos and preventing his brother from organizing a proper counterattack.
On the surface, everything seemed well-planned. However, despite his own selfish ambitions, Valdrin was reluctant to surrender so much territory. He had spent two days weighing his options, but time was running out. In the end, he leaned toward accepting the deal, though he intended to renegotiate certain terms. His ideal arrangement was to concede only half of the Windwalker family's conquests, forcing them to return the rest. Additionally, he was unwilling to let them seize any further land from the Darkwind family.
Unfortunately, his attempts at negotiation were met with outright rejection. Over the past two days, Alaric, the Marquis of the Windwalker family, had made it clear through his representative that there would be no compromise. It was an all-or-nothing offer. This deadlock was the reason for Valdrin’s frustration. He was unwilling to fully submit to their terms, while Marquis Alaric had no interest in negotiating in good faith.
Valdrin mulled over his options.
"I should just agree to this," he thought. "If I refuse, my chances of inheriting the title of Marquis will shrink. My father won’t live much longer, and once he dies, I’ll lose a significant amount of power and legitimacy. Agreeing to the deal might cost me territory, but at least I’ll secure my rightful title." For Valdrin, personal gain outweighed everything else. His family’s fate was secondary—insignificant, even.
Losing some land wouldn’t cripple the Darkwind family. By his calculations, they would forfeit about a quarter of their territory, but much of it was sparsely populated. The loss would account for less than 10% of the family’s population, under 8% of its mineral resources, and roughly 15% of its farmland—an acceptable sacrifice. Most of the ceded land consisted of forests—valuable, but not assets nobles truly cared about. Their priorities lay in cities, fertile farmland, mines, castles, and other strategic locations.
Having settled the matter in his mind, Valdrin stood up and summoned a servant.
"Bring someone to me," he ordered.
While Valdrin wasn’t exactly a playboy, he did indulge himself from time to time as a way to clear his mind.
His servant bowed upon hearing the request and left the room. A minute later, the door swung open, and someone stepped inside. Valdrin frowned. Usually, everyone was required to knock before entering. The only exceptions were in cases of extreme urgency.
His curiosity quickly turned to alarm. As he turned to look, he immediately stood up from his chair, drawing his weapon. The intruder was an old man—red-haired, wrinkled, and sharp-eyed, with an aura that radiated pure menace.
"Who are you?" Valdrin demanded.
The old man smirked. "You're already dead," he said. "But since you asked, let me introduce myself—I am your murderer."
Valdrin’s blood ran cold. His face turned pale as he registered the sheer presence of the man before him. A golden glow shimmered faintly around the stranger’s body, his aura suffocating.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
"A… Golden Knight?" Valdrin’s thoughts raced in panic. He tightened his grip on his weapon and stammered, "Wait… wait! I haven't done anything to you!"
The old man, Edric, sneered. "Of course, you haven’t wronged me personally," he said. "But you sent assassins after me."
Valdrin blinked in confusion. "Assassins?" He had no idea what the old man was talking about.
Valdrin shouted in desperation, "No! I haven’t! I would never dare to send assassins after a Golden Knight! Please, I’ll do anything—wait!"
But Edric offered no explanation. Without hesitation, he unsheathed his sword and struck.
The blade moved with terrifying speed, slicing Valdrin clean in two. He didn’t even have time to react.
Though Valdrin was a Silver Knight, he was far from an exceptional one. Had he been a more skilled Silver Knight, he might have at least attempted to block the attack. Of course, it would have been futile—Edric’s sword was of golden rank, capable of cutting through any silver-rank weapon with ease.
The gap between Silver and Golden Knights was immense. Even ten highly skilled Silver Knights working together would only be able to put minimal pressure on a Golden Knight. To truly restrain a Golden Knight—one who wasn’t particularly skilled—it would take at least twenty-five well-trained Silver Knights.
In the end, Valdrin’s struggles meant nothing. Against a Golden Knight like Edric, he never stood a chance.
Valdrin's body, now severed in two, collapsed onto the floor. His limbs twitched for a few moments, and though his upper body retained a flicker of consciousness, it wasn't long before the light faded from his eyes.
Edric stepped forward, careful to avoid the growing pool of blood. The floor was drenched in crimson, but he paid it no mind. His gaze swept across the room, searching for anything of value. There was little worth taking—except for one thing.
Valdrin’s sword, a finely crafted silver-grade weapon, lay untouched. He hadn’t even managed to lift it before death claimed him. Since the blade remained unscathed, Edric took it. Along with a handful of gold coins scattered about, he pocketed his spoils. Though not particularly valuable, gold was always useful.
Without wasting any more time, he left the room. Moving swiftly through the building, he ascended to the roof, where he once again cast Eagle’s Wings. A moment later, he soared into the sky, disappearing into the night.
...
Valdrin was dead—assassinated without anyone even noticing.
His body was discovered just minutes later when his servant arrived with his favorite girl, expecting to entertain him for the night. The moment they saw the gruesome scene, both screamed and fled in terror.
His death was the final nail in the coffin for the war. With Valdrin gone, his forces were left leaderless. His father, Rhaegor—the current Marquis—was in no condition to take command. Drugged into a near-constant stupor, he was rarely lucid and incapable of issuing orders.
To make matters worse, just a day after Valdrin’s assassination, Kaelith launched an attack on Darkwind City. With their commander dead and no one to replace him, Valdrin’s forces crumbled without a fight. The city surrendered immediately.
Kaelith entered Darkwind City without spilling a drop of blood. Many of its residents welcomed him with open arms. Unlike Valdrin, who had done little to aid them, Kaelith had always been a champion of the common people. He had fought relentlessly against the Windwalker family, earning their admiration. Meanwhile, Valdrin’s neglect and selfishness had turned him into a hated figure.
With no resistance, Kaelith assumed control over the domain. Though he had yet to officially claim the title of Marquis—since Rhaegor was still alive—he now held all the real power.
Kaelith wasted no time in reversing his brother’s policies. He immediately reinstated the nobles whom Valdrin had stripped of their positions, restoring stability to the Darkwind family. With the entirety of the family's power now in his hands, he issued a stern warning to the Windwalker family—retreat immediately, or face total war. If they refused, he would not stop at merely reclaiming the land they had taken; he would push beyond the borders and crush them completely.
Unlike Valdrin, who had remained passive, Kaelith was determined to change the course of the conflict. However, he also offered a path to peace. If the Windwalker family withdrew immediately, he would forgive everything, letting go of the bloodshed that had taken so many lives.
One reason Kaelith was willing to let go of vengeance was a discovery he made after taking control of Darkwind Castle. He learned that it had been Valdrin—his own brother—who had ordered the slaughter of civilians, pinning the blame on the Windwalker family to paint them as monsters. In reality, they hadn’t committed nearly as many atrocities as people believed. Though Kaelith despised what his brother had done, he chose to keep the truth hidden. Valdrin may have been evil, but he was still family, and Kaelith refused to tarnish the Darkwind name further. But in his heart, he knew—he could not seek revenge against the Windwalker family for crimes his brother had orchestrated.
Marquis Alaric Windwalker, stunned by the sudden turn of events, had no choice but to accept the ultimatum. Fighting a fractured Darkwind family had been one thing, but now that Kaelith had unified them, a war would only end in disaster. Understanding this, he ordered a full retreat, pulling his troops back to Windwalker territory.
With the enemy gone, Kaelith wasted no time reclaiming Darkwind lands. He retook the castles, secured the borders, and, in an act of goodwill, opened the family treasury to aid those who had suffered. He promised to rebuild homes, restore livelihoods, and ensure the people could return to normal life.
Though his father, Rhaegor, was still alive, everyone knew the truth—Kaelith was now the real leader of the Darkwind family. The only thing preventing him from officially inheriting the title of Marquis was his father’s lingering existence, but that was nothing more than a formality. In the eyes of the people, the Darkwind family already had a new ruler.