The sky was covered with heavy, dark clouds, as if even nature mourned the death of the duke. A cold wind blew across the mansion grounds, gently swaying the leafless trees. Silence prevailed, broken only by the sound of the few attendees' footsteps as they made their way to the family cemetery. The atmosphere was somber, heavy, laden with the grief that weighed on the hearts of those who knew the late duke.

Aurelio, the only son present, stood beside his father's coffin, which now rested in a stone sarcophagus adorned with the symbols of his house. His face was serious, almost expressionless, as he observed the ceremony, not letting any emotion show. He wore immaculate black attire, contrasting with his pale skin.

The church's mage priest, a tall and slender man with a severe expression and piercing eyes, approached the coffin. He raised his hands, drawing the attention of the few nobles and officers present. His voice rang out strong and clear, laden with the gravity of the occasion.

"Today, we gather to pay our final respects to the great Duke Belmont Vonmain, a man whose bravery and wisdom were essential to the glory of this kingdom," the priest began, his voice resonating in the cold air. "He was a fearless warrior, who fought countless battles for the crown and the protection of his people. A brilliant strategist, who guided our forces in times of war and, in times of peace, brought prosperity and order to his lands."

The attendees listened in silence, some with vacant stares, others with pain etched on their faces. Aurelio remained still, his gaze fixed on the coffin, as if he were still trying to process the reality of his father's death.

"Duke Alistair was more than a leader; he was a symbol of strength and determination. His devotion to the kingdom of Ardia will not be forgotten, and his legacy will live on in each of us, who must follow his example," the priest continued, his voice echoing like a sacred chant. "May the gods receive him in their arms and may his soul find eternal rest."

With these words, the mage priest lowered his hands, and silence once again reigned. Some nobles approached Aurelio, offering their condolences in respectful murmurs before discreetly withdrawing. The king of Ardia, an elderly, corpulent man with a severe expression, approached next, his steps slow and heavy. He wore a royal mantle embroidered with gold, exuding an aura of unshakable authority.

"Aurelio," said the king in a grave voice, placing a firm hand on Aurelio's shoulder. "Your father was an excellent warrior and an invaluable ally to this kingdom. Without him, Ardia would not be what it is today. His loss is a great sadness for all of us."

Aurelio nodded but remained silent, his thoughts a mix of grief and anger. After a pause, the king gestured for them to begin walking through the mansion's gardens, while Alistair Belmont's body was lowered into the family cemetery, surrounded by ancient trees and moss-covered stones.

As they walked side by side, the soft sound of dry leaves underfoot broke the silence that enveloped them. The cold wind still whistled through the trees, bringing a chill to the air.

Aurelio finally broke the silence, his voice low and controlled. "Your Majesty," he began, "how is the joint military campaign against the last beast-men kingdom on the continent going?"

The king responded with a heavy sigh, as if the weight of recent defeats was crushing his shoulders. "As you must know, the beginning of the campaign was promising. We easily conquered some of the border cities, but then... those beasts seem to have unknown weapons, things we've never seen before. We've managed to capture a few, but understanding how they work has been an immense challenge."

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Aurelio, with a tense expression, nodded and added, "I understand that feeling well. A year ago, we sent our troops to the barony of Drakmoor to quell that rebellion... But they had new weapons to defend themselves, surrounding and defeating us."

The king, turning his attention to Aurelio, narrowed his eyes, his voice becoming cold and incisive. "We can't wait any longer, Aurelio. Every day, week, month, and year that your bastard brother continues to proclaim himself king, my authority is drained... Do you think I don't know that two more southern baronies have joined him?"

Aurelio took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the accusation. "I... was waiting for the right moment to tell..."

The king interrupted him with a nervous, almost disdainful tone. "And when would that right moment be, Aurelio? When more than half the kingdom decides to rebel too? When all our efforts to maintain order and power slip away?"

Aurelio lowered his head, acknowledging the scorn in the king's voice. "I apologize, Your Majesty. I... just need more time. It's only a matter of time before we put an end to Miguel's rebellion."

The king shook his head, his eyes full of frustration. "Stop giving me empty promises, Aurelio. You are the new duke now, and for the memory of your father, the former duke, and for the survival of this kingdom, this rebellion must be destroyed. I'm not asking anymore... I'm demanding. You have until the end of winter to resolve this."

Without waiting for a response, the king turned on his heel, his two royal guards following closely, leaving Aurelio standing alone in the mansion's gardens. Boiling with rage, not for the king's words, but for Miguel, who somehow, even from a distance, managed to humiliate him and threaten everything he had inherited.

Aurelio remained there, his fists clenched and his gaze fixed on the horizon, already scheming what he would do to fulfill the king's command... and to take revenge on his brother.

---

Miguel was sitting in a sturdy chair, carved from dark wood, as he observed Arthur, the most experienced blacksmith in Drakmoor, who stood before him. The office, warmed by the heating system Miguel had designed, provided a pleasant refuge against the cold outside. Outside, winter showed its strength, covering the city with a thick layer of white snow. The smoke from the chimneys rose lazily, contrasting with the gray sky.

Miguel had spent the last year planning and assisting in the construction of an imposing building, located near the mines and the wall, with the aim of transforming Drakmoor into a center of metal and weapon production. The building was large and solid, made of sturdy stones and topped with a clay tile roof, capable of bearing the weight of the snow. Inside, there was enough space for up to 30 blacksmiths to work simultaneously. The forges, lined up along the walls, were fueled by large quantities of coal. Sturdy workbenches, forged from iron and wood, were scattered throughout the main hall, ready to receive the red-hot blades and the hammers that would shape the future of the kingdom.

Arthur, who had been the only blacksmith in the city for many years, was now accompanied by his son and four apprentices. But even so, the number was insufficient to fully utilize the potential of that building. Miguel knew this, and his expression was one of concern.

"Arthur," Miguel began, his grave voice echoing through the room. "I designed this place to be the heart of our production, but we are still far from reaching our potential. The city needs more blacksmiths. I'm thinking of trying to convince the other baronies that joined us to encourage their blacksmiths to come work here in Drakmoor."

Arthur nodded, understanding the urgency. "I agree, my Majesty. We have enough iron ore stockpiled to keep the smithy running for two years, even if mining is halted due to winter. But with more blacksmiths, we could produce much more, much faster."

Miguel smiled slightly, satisfied with the response. "You've done an excellent job, Arthur. And I have many ideas for new tools and weapons. We need to be ready for any eventuality."

Arthur bowed, thanking his king for the kind words. "I will do my best to ensure everything continues to run smoothly, Majesty."

Miguel nodded, and Arthur left the room, leaving Miguel alone once again. He picked up his wine goblet, the scarlet liquid reflecting the soft light of the fireplace. As he drank slowly, his mind wandered. He thought of the numerous administrative tasks that needed to be resolved, how Drakmoor was rapidly growing, and the urgent need to delegate responsibilities.

He knew he could not continue taking on so many tasks alone. He needed to appoint more people to trusted positions, people who could help him bear the burden of managing a rising kingdom, especially in such challenging times.

Miguel looked out the window, watching the snow fall silently, covering the landscape in a white mantle. He sighed, aware that winter would still bring many challenges, but determined to overcome them. With each passing day, he felt more prepared to face the future that awaited him, but he knew that to do so, he would need strong and loyal allies.