Marquis Rhaegor Darkwind groaned as his eyes fluttered open. A sharp pain surged through his back, spreading through his aged body. He gritted his teeth, cursing the weakness that had overtaken him.
“Ahh, the damn drugs have worn off again! Call the doctor!” he bellowed, his once-mighty voice now a ragged shadow of its former power.
The years had not been kind to the marquis. Decades of grueling battles and relentless toil had finally caught up with him, leaving his body a ruin of its former glory. These days, he relied heavily on powerful drugs to dull the unending pain.
Moments later, the family physician entered, carrying a small vial of shimmering liquid. Marquis Rhaegor grabbed it with trembling hands, downing its contents in a single gulp. He grimaced as the bitter concoction slid down his throat, but although it was unpleasant, its effects were amazing; within moments, the pain receded to a bearable level.
“Get out,” he snapped, waving a hand at the doctor. “And send for Valdrin.”
The physician bowed deeply and left the room.
...
Half an hour later, Valdrin Darkwind entered.
The eldest surviving son of the marquis, Valdrin, was a striking figure with blond hair and sharp black eyes. As the heir to the Darkwind family, he carried himself with authority, though his every movement hinted at a simmering aggression beneath the surface.
“Father,” Valdrin greeted, bowing respectfully before approaching the marquis’s bedside.
Rhaegor wasted no time on pleasantries. “What news of the negotiations? Did they succeed?” A few weeks ago, Rhaegor ordered Valdrin to send diplomats to the Windwalker family to reduce tensions.
Valdrin's voice was filled with contempt as he spoke. "Alaric Windwalker is an uncultured barbarian who refuses to meet with us. There is no chance of resolving this peacefully, Father. The only way to settle this is on the battlefield. The king may disapprove, but we cannot back down now. If we do not act, our family will be destroyed."
The marquis clenched his fists, his face darkening with rage. “Damn them! They’re exploiting my temporary weakness!” he growled. “If I were at my full strength, those Windwalkers would not dare to interfere in our affairs!”
The tension in the room was palpable as Valdrin continued his report. “Count Maeric, Viscount Gareth, Baron Korwyn, and many other lords within our own Darkwind territory are openly defying your orders. They’re rallying behind Kaelith as the next successor. Father, this rebellion is no longer a mere annoyance. We cannot ignore their defiance any longer.”
The mention of Kaelith, Rhaegor’s second legitimate son, caused the marquis’s expression to sour further. Kaelith was a rising Silver Knight and a formidable contender for the family’s leadership. Unlike Valdrin, who had a reputation for his heavy-handed tactics and centralizing power, Kaelith was more diplomatic and charismatic.
But what made Kaelith particularly dangerous was his support network. Backed openly by the majority of the Darkwind nobles and covertly by the Windwalker and Stonefist families, Kaelith posed a significant threat to Valdrin’s claim to the marquisate.
Valdrin’s tone grew urgent as he continued, “Father, we must act now. If we delay any longer, Kaelith’s faction will grow even stronger. Count Maeric and the others are already defying you openly. Please reconsider your stance!”
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The marquis sighed heavily, his frail body sinking deeper into the plush cushions of his bed. “This is not the time for battle,” he muttered, shaking his head. “My condition is too fragile. And where is that damned mage? Why hasn’t he arrived to heal me yet? I paid him enough gold to fill a river!” Rhaegor said, extremely frustrated.
Ordinary doctors can no longer treat him; the best they can do is relieve his pain. Silver Knights can live at most 250 years; if they have hidden injuries, they may die sooner than that. Rhaegor participated in many battles and was injured many times in his younger years; he would be lucky to live past 230 years old.
For someone like Rhaegor, only those who can use healing magic, who can heal internal injuries perfectly, can help him; unfortunately, mages are extremely rare, even as the marquis of Darkwind territory with hundreds of knights under him and deep pockets, he still could only ask for a mage but not easily get one.
Seeing his father reject his proposals one after another, Valdrin gritted his teeth in rage. As long as his father was alive, he could still win; however, once Rhaegor died, the loyal knights under him would immediately flip to Kaelith; in that case, Valdrin could only run away and take refuge in the royal territory.
For years, he had begged his father to take a more aggressive approach, but Rhaegor’s reluctance to act decisively had allowed their enemies to grow bolder; each day that passed, the chance of Valdrin's ultimate succession would reduce.
"I have to do something, anything!" Valdrin racked his brain and smiled after thinking of a plan.
“If we cannot fight outright, we must resort to more... subtle methods,” Valdrin said to his father, his voice low and dangerous.
The marquis raised a weary eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Valdrin leaned closer, his expression cold and calculating. “Edric Windwalker. The boy is already gaining a reputation as a prodigy. If his talent is like his mother’s, he could become a formidable knight—perhaps even a Silver or Golden Knight one day. We cannot allow the Windwalkers to produce another monster like Lyria.”
The plan to assassinate talented geniuses of other noble families, especially those belonging to the Windwalkers, was nothing new; however, previous versions of the plan remained as plans and never materialized simply because the Darkwind family feared retaliation.
The marquis’s eyes narrowed. Memories of Lyria Windwalker, the current Countess of the Windwalker family, flashed through his mind. He had underestimated her once, allowing her to grow into one of the most powerful knights in the kingdom.
“I regret letting that girl Lyria grow to maturity,” Rhaegor admitted bitterly. “If only I had acted sooner...”
Valdrin seized the moment. “We cannot make the same mistake again, Father. Edric must be dealt with before he grows too powerful. We should arrange for an assassination—clean, discreet, and untraceable.”
The marquis considered this for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. “You’re right. Eliminate the boy. But ensure no loose ends—this cannot be traced back to us.”
A sinister smile spread across Valdrin’s face. “It will be done,” he said confidently.
Valdrin's plan was simple: Since his father is not willing to start a war, he has to provoke the Windwalkers into starting it. Assassinating Edric is just a way to enrage the Windwalkers; if not enough, he would start assassinating other promising geniuses; at some point, they would be enraged enough to start the war finally.
Once the war between the Windwalkers and the Darkwind family starts, it would significantly weaken the position of Kaelith; after all, the many nobles who follow and support him are still part of the extended Darkwind family and wouldn't want to see their land occupied by the Windwalkers. The only reason they are allies with the Windwalkers is the succession fight; once the war starts, if they lose it, there may not be a marquis of Darkwind left for succession if the Windwalkers win the war.
Valdrin had said that he would cover all traces, but doing so would be counterproductive to his plans, so he decided to leave behind traces to prove the Darkwinds killed Edric.
Valdrin's actions were extremely risky. There was little chance of success, and failure meant the Darkwind family might be completely wiped out. However, Valdrin didn't care; if he couldn't inherit the title, nobody should; he was ready and willing to burn it all if he failed.
From Valdrin's view, he is clearly the legitimate successor chosen by his father, the eldest son, who waited over fifty years for it. His brother Kaelith is a traitor who allied with enemies, like the Windwalkers, to subvert the legitimate successor. In Valdrin's eyes, Kaelith's victory is even worse than the destruction of the whole Darkwind family; he would be happy to burn everything down if it prevents Kaelith from owning it.
Bowing deeply, Valdrin left the room to plan for the assassination.