...

Inside a lavish carriage draped in dark silks and adorned with intricate vein-like patterns, three youths sat amid the gentle sway of their journey. The air was thick with unspoken worries as they rattled through the sprawling landscapes of the Leonandra fief—a region notorious for its oppressive heat and suffocating humidity due to the vast sea named Howl that bordered its shores.

The weather weighed heavily on them all. The boys had shed their traditional black suits and blood-red ties for more casual attire—shirts with sleeves rolled up to the elbow, revealing toned forearms glistening with a sheen of sweat. Persephone, however, remained in her raven-black dress, layered with lace and accented with silver chains that contrasted starkly against her porcelain skin. Her canine-kin ears, as black as her flowing hair and adorned with small ribbons, stood alert, betraying the tension she tried to mask.

Persephone gazed lifelessly out the window, her crimson eyes reflecting the overcast skies and turmoil within her. The landscape blurred past—a mosaic of sun-scorched fields and distant, shimmering waters. Each passing mile seemed to deepen the weight on her shoulders.

Styx leaned forward, his fiery orange eyes filled with concern as he watched her. His dog-like ears, poking through messy locks of dark hair, twitched with unease. "Persephone," he ventured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we could do that thing you like so much? You seem... tense." He slightly blushed while saying it.

Lethe sighed dramatically, rolling his weary dark orange eyes as he slumped back into his seat, his slik black hair falling into his face. Shadows seemed to cling to his attire, giving him an ethereal presence. The silvery streaks of his rings caught the dim light with every gesture. "Styx, last time you tried that, you ended up ruining her dress," he drawled lazily.

Styx shot him a sharp look, his ears standing upright. "And you think sitting around moping helps? You're not doing any good, Lethe."

Lethe smirked, a hint of mischief playing on his lips. "Just facing reality, brother. Administering our future fief isn't exactly a walk in the park. Pretending otherwise won't change that, and—" he tapped his temple "—one has to think a lot about it, something you may never do."

Styx narrowed his eyes, about to explode in anger. Still, before the carriage went up in flames, Persephone turned away from the window, her expression a mask of controlled composure despite the storm raging inside her. "Both of you, enough," she said, her voice tinged with weariness yet firm. "I'm fine... I just need some time to think." She clenched her dress slightly, her fingers gripping the fabric as if to steady herself.

Styx clenched his fists, a subtle warmth radiating from his body. "I just hate seeing you like this, dear. We're supposed to face these challenges together."

Lethe turned away from Styx, noticing that he was genuinely worried, and decided to join his brother. His gaze momentarily softened as he glanced at her. "We all feel the weight, sis. But fretting won't help any of us. Don't shut us out."

She offered a small, appreciative smile before her eyes hardened with determination. "That's why we need a plan," she said, making space and tapping on the seat beside her while warmly smiling at Styx, who moved to sit beside her, his hand gently caressing hers. "Thank you."

Lethe chuckled softly, nodding at Styx, who was the most aggravated when she became restless. 'How cute,' she mused, knowing that he always tried to help but could at most provide either emotional support or muscles. He could offer little when it came to administration and governance, where her problems lay.

However, Persephone wasn't opposed to his closeness; she found comfort in it. She gave Lethe a subtle nod toward the other side, but he shook his head with a teasing smile. "Not now, dear. We need to focus on a plan first."

Persephone sighed, her eyes regaining a spark of life. "Let's revisit our situation," she began, her voice as smooth as silk, filling the carriage with a calming presence. She hoped to soothe Styx's nerves; his tense posture gradually relaxed as she spoke. Within minutes, his head gently settled onto her lap, his eyes closing as she continued speaking in softer tones, her fingers stroking his hair.

Since their recent journey through Veilerteeth, she had visited every corner of their territory, speaking to their subjects and evaluating Alexander's claims. They were true—each one of them. People were leaving, lured away by opportunities in other fiefs. Artisans, merchants, and farmers—all crucial to their fief's vitality—were departing due to rumors and unseen promises. And she could do nothing to stop it.

Their parents remained indifferent in their conversations, clinging stubbornly to outdated traditions while their fief declined—nobody liked being told that their governance put the fief into such a position. Still, instead of at least trying to better the current situation, they simply accused Marisa and her son, making it their fault, blaming them for everything bad that happened to their fief.

The disdain for Alexander was almost palpable, and it showed since they barely supported the siblings' travels to the South. They considered him an ambitious fool, waiting for Wolfsteeth to collapse. But the opposite happened. It grew, and by aggressively expanding, there was no stop in sight—be part of it or be left behind. She sensed that Alexander had started something that couldn't be stopped.

Persephone bit her cherry-red lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "We can't just sit idly by and watch everything crumble," she murmured. "We need every bit of help we can get."

Lethe tapped his fingers thoughtfully on his knee. "So, helping in that campaign the idiot started might be enough, right? I mean, who actually meddles in politics beyond our borders?"

Persephone raised an eyebrow, looking at him incredulously. "The Nightmare, the Butterfly Princess, the Mad Physician—need I go on?"

Lethe groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Okay, okay, I get it." His frustration was palpable. "And now we have to back him up, too?"

Persephone's gaze hardened. "We've had this discussion a hundred times. I understand your worries, but we don't have a choice. We must rely on his goodwill. Any support he receives will benefit us, too."

She had researched Alexander extensively and discovered he would support his friends to the best of his abilities. The more good-willed he was toward someone, the more support he would give, unquestioned, expecting nothing but friendship in return.

'Friendship,' Persephone mused, a concept she had only heard about. Because of her close relationship with her brothers, others were never needed. However, she wasn't naive to think that he wouldn't expect more once the time came.

'I should prepare some letters,' she thought, thinking about how to write a letter to her grandparents, persuading them for support. She wanted to make Alexander seem like someone who deserved the least punishment once he stood trial for his egregious transgression on the border.

Persephone sighed, hoping Alexander wouldn't be that cold and calculative. She would like to deal with someone more genuine than an aristocrat, where every word would be weighed—worse if she became allied with him, there would be no back, but her instinct told her that it was the right move going forward. Yet, that also meant that should he falter in the campaign, it could lead to chaos and a more aggressive stance, making it harder to work with him—it was all or nothing.

Lethe interrupted her thoughts. "Alex's well-being is imperative to us, but what about Sarah? She's his fiancée. Surely she has some sway over his decisions, too? Shouldn't we try to befriend her, too?"

Persephone shook her head. "Sarah cares only for Alex. Her ambitions don't extend beyond his shadow."

Lethe arched an eyebrow. "Is that even workable? I thought all those Architects of Warfare were supposed to be smart and—"

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Persephone cut him off with a sharp look. "Alex earned that title, and Sarah is poised to become the Grand Beastlord."

Lethe leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't get it. Is every guy in our generation a genius? I'm starting to feel like an outsider here." He glanced down at Styx, a small smile emerging. "Well, never mind."

Persephone exhaled, her gaze softening. Canine-kin boys were rarely born. Though her household didn't face such hardships, she empathized with others who went mad because of it. Even imagining life without Styx and Lethe made her heart ache.

She looked between them both, determination steeling her features. "We need Alexander's goodwill, plain and simple. Are we clear?"

Lethe nodded begrudgingly, still not entirely comfortable with the idea. Persephone continued, her voice calmer now. "The next problem is that we brought almost nothing besides ourselves—a hundred gold coins and our wits. But," she smiled faintly, "we have each other. We are strong, and we will become Alex's greatest allies. We'll prove our worth and perhaps nudge him toward supporting us."

Persephone disliked the politics of her ancestors and the Guard Households. She was focused on achieving the most with what she had; whatever pride needed to be discarded was irrelevant.

However, she was more the exception than the rule, as Styx's voice rasped when he woke up. "Feels like we're lowering ourselves to some pup," he grumbled.

Lethe glanced at him, smirking. "Maybe so, but we're securing the most support possible. Besides," he shrugged, "would you rather have allies or enemies? We need merits to become official heirs anyway. We're gaining more than we're losing here, Styx."

Styx grumbled under his breath. "What about my pride?" He looked up at Persephone, his fiery eyes softening as they met hers, yet filled with overwhelming energy, like a volcano about to erupt.

'Lethe and I need to calm him down tonight,' she mused, gently caressing his hair. "As long as we have each other, we'll find happiness, right?"

Styx flushed slightly, nodding as his short tail waggled happily, "Right."

Their unique Divinity Line shaped their personalities toward particular paths. Styx struggled to control his fiery temper, embodying the raw power of their heritage. Lethe was cunning and calculated, his demeanor cool even when chaos loomed. And she... she was the anchor, the one who held them together—empathetic but also pragmatic, willing to set aside pride for the greater good. Because of that, they supported each other in the best way possible, like with Styx, who was like a nervous wreck, sensing the tension.

Determined to turn their situation around, Persephone leaned back and opened their [System Window]. "Let's distribute our free status points and discuss our strategies," she suggested, her lips curling into a smile. "I've gotten a bit rusty, enjoying all this peace."

image [https://raw.githubusercontent.com/Chiruschka/Supersum/refs/heads/main/system_information/219_Heart-Fire.svg]

...

[Divinity Line – Infernal Triad]

The Infernal Triad is exclusive to those who share lineage and purpose. It allows the triplets to channel their powers in tandem. Their combined force transcends the sum of their individual abilities, hinged on each fulfilling a specific role. Alone, they are formidable; together, they are unstoppable.

[(Shared) Mystic Skill – Absolute Dominion]

When perfectly coordinated, they create a dominion within a range that amplifies their strengths. Only able to be activated by Persephone.

...

[Persephone C. Heart-Fire (Support/Link Role)]

- Unique Energy: She lacks Energy veins and a core but can support Styx and Lethe, filtering out adverse effects of their [Energy]—able to soothe their minds.

- First Mystic Skill – Soulbind Conduit

Creates a mental link, allowing perfect coordination and silent communication. (Passive)

- Second Mystic Skill – Chorus of the Abyss

Her haunting melodies enhance their physical prowess and skill efficiency. While singing, she becomes more vulnerable.

...

Styx C. Heart-Fire (Offensive Role)

- Unique Energy: His Wild Demonic Energy manifests as unquenchable flames.

- First Mystic Skill – Blazing Onslaught

Attacks cause explosions and leave lingering, inextinguishable flames. Risk of self-harm if unchecked.

- Second Mystic Skill – Molten Grasp

Transforms [Energy] into molten lava for devastating close combat. Cannot project [Energy] at range during use.

...

Lethe C. Heart-Fire (Defensive/Disruption Role)

- Unique Energy: His Wild Demonic Energy manipulates shadows and disrupts perception.

- First Mystic Skill – Waves of Forgetfulness

Emanates an aura that dulls enemies' concentration and erodes their memories.

- Second Mystic Skill – Ethereal Mirage

Crafts illusions to confuse and distract foes—sometimes forces abnormal statuses on them.

...

After hours of strategizing and allocating their status points, the trio felt a renewed sense of purpose. Persephone closed the [System Window], a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Okay, let's relax today, and tomorrow we'll..."

She was cut off mid-sentence as the carriage abruptly lurched to a halt, throwing them off balance. Styx and Lethe instinctively reached out, steadying her before she could tumble forward.

Her expression twisted in irritation. "What just happened?" she demanded.

From outside, the coachman's voice called out, strained and apologetic. "Beggin' your pardon, m'lords and lady! Some fool stopped dead in the road—we've had a collision!"

Styx's ears perked up, nostrils flaring as he caught a familiar scent wafting through the open window. "That smell... Could it be?"

Lethe narrowed his eyes; usually tired, they became sharper. "Who is it?"

Styx's expression darkened. "Iron-Claw."

Persephone's eyes flashed with recognition and a hint of disdain. "It can only be that barbaric bitch," she muttered, her tone icy. She knew that Alexander had invited all future Lords and Ladies to his campaign and exchange—including those she could hardly stand.

Without hesitation, she opened the carriage door and stepped outside. The bustling streets of Wolfsteeth unfolded before them—a vibrant tapestry of colorful adobe buildings, market stalls brimming with exotic goods, and townsfolk going about their day. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, and the heat pressed down like a heavy blanket.

Amidst the crowd, Persephone's gaze zeroed in on a familiar figure standing before a flower shop. Freya A. Iron-Claw examined the array of blooms with a surprising delicacy, starkly contrasting the volatile aura surrounding her. Her chestnut brown hair cascaded over her shoulders while her annoyingly long tail swayed the dirt from the ground. The air around her seemed to simmer, a mix of barely contained aggression and something more primal.

Persephone's lips curled into a faint sneer. "I knew I smelled barbarians."

Freya turned sharply, her eyes blazing as they met Persephone's. "Persephone, ye connivin' witch!" she spat, her hands balling into fists.

Behind Freya, Bjoern stepped forward—a towering figure with a rugged demeanor softened only by the concern in his eyes. He offered a placating smile. "Let's all take a deep breath. No need fer this to escalate. 'Twas an unfortunate accident, nothin' more."

Lethe and Styx emerged from the carriage, flanking Persephone protectively. Lethe's gaze was cool and assessing, slightly bending forward, while Styx's fists clenched at his sides, barely restrained.

Lethe was the first to break the tense silence. "Ah, Bjoern. Fancy running into you here. Not with your usual company, I see?"

Bjoern's eyes narrowed slightly. "Watch yer tongue, boy. We wouldn't be wantin' any unpleasantness."

As the tension brewed, Persephone recalled the last visit of the Iron-Claw youths—how they had wreaked havoc in their city, thrashing bars and restaurants. It had been a mess she had to resolve, and they had left without so much as an apology.

Persephone's gaze was steely as she regarded them. "Your reckless driving has caused us inconvenience. An apology is in order."

Freya scoffed, crossing her arms defiantly. "Apologize? For yer driver's inability to steer clear? Don't make me laugh."

Bjoern placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Freya, perhaps we should—"

She shrugged him off. "Nay, Bjoern. I won't be takin' blame where it's not due."

Fortunately, Bjoern seemed to understand the need for tact, even if Lethe's comment hinted at his secret—something that happened in their fief, which they had decided not to share with others.

Styx stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "Watch your tone. We're trying to settle this peacefully."

Lethe chuckled darkly. "Though if it's a fight you're after, we can oblige."

No one released any aura or conjured [Energy]; they all knew they were not in their own fief, and any disruption would sour relationships. While they couldn't be punished even if they harmed commoners, Alexander's subjects would harbor resentment toward their future lord for his inability to rein them in.

Before tensions could escalate further, a melodic voice interjected with a hint of playful disdain. "Ah, such passion on the streets of Wolfsteeth. It's almost poetic."

All eyes turned to see a striking girl approaching, her pronounced coyote-kin ears poking out of her golden hair that cascaded over her shoulders in elegant waves. She wore a tailored ensemble—a blend of aristocratic fashion and daring flair—tight pants, long boots, a blouse liberally open to showcase her ample bosom, and a rapier gleaming at her side. Her eyes, a piercing shade of sapphire, held a mischievous glint as her delicately groomed tail swayed gently, barely containing the anticipation.

"Isabella P. Feather-Paw," Persephone acknowledged coolly.

Isabella smiled slyly, her accent a captivating blend of cold precision and playful openness. "Persephone, always a pleasure. And Freya, causing trouble, as usual, I see."

Freya bristled. "This ain't none of yer concern, Isabella. Best ye keep walkin'."

Bjoern stepped forward respectfully. "Just a minor dispute."

Isabella's smile never faltered as she brought her gloved hand to her mouth, biting into the fingertip delicately as if about to remove it. "Oh, I'm sure. But perhaps we could resolve this more traditionally?" Her gaze sharpened, a hint of challenge in her eyes. "It would be a shame to disrespect Alex in such a way—someone I actually respect among you all."

Persephone felt the tension heighten, each word laced with unspoken threats and rivalries. The air seemed to crackle with anticipation.