The Supreme World Conqueror

Chapter 36: The United South

The return journey from Cloudhaven was a triumphal march. Don rode at the head of a truly formidable sight: the disciplined lines of his Black Horned Lion cavalry, now flanked by the proud Gryphon riders of House Griffor and the serene, awe-inspiring Sky-Serpent riders of House Aetheria. The sky above them was a living tapestry of soaring Gryphons and gliding Sky-Serpents, their combined might a visible symbol of the south's newfound unity.

As they neared Adraels Keep, the Gryphon calls and the serpentine cries of the Sky-Serpents mixed with the deep roars of the Black Horned Lions, a symphony of power that resonated through the hills. From the battlements, Earl Dunnel watched them approach, a profound sense of awe and apprehension on his face. In less than a month, his youngest son had accomplished what generations of Earls had only dreamed of: he had forged the disparate, feuding houses of Helimdor into a single, unified power.

In the courtyard, standing alongside Earl Dunnel's forces, were the seasoned warriors of House Thornf. Their presence completed the picture, a quiet testament to their unwavering support as the first to join Don's cause. Earl Jhesarwan Thornf, a shrewd and calculating leader, stood at the head of his banner, his mages' sigils gleaming on their robes.

A grand assembly was held in the courtyard of Adraels Keep. Don stood on a raised dais, flanked by his two new wives. On one side stood Callara Griffor, regal and unyielding in her warrior's mail, her Gryphon, Stormwing, perched regally behind her. On the other was Lady Marell Aetheria, ethereal in her silver robes, her Sky-Serpent, Azureus, a breathtaking presence in the sky above the keep. Beside him, as always, was Caria, his first Empress, a beacon of ferocious loyalty and power. Below, the lords and commanders of the three great houses swore fealty, their combined strength a single, undeniable fist.

Don's voice, amplified by the resonant power of his Black Flame, rang out across the courtyard. "You have seen the enemy. You have seen the rot in the Crown. You have seen that a fractured Helimdor is a weak Helimdor. Today, we stand as one. We will be masters of our own destiny, a united force that will answer to no master but its own will."

He then appointed the new command structure. Earl Varant Griffor, now his Warden of the Mountains, would command all ground forces. Earl Valerius Aetheria, his Admiral of the South, would command the combined naval and aerial fleets. Earl Jhesarwan Thornf, in recognition of his house's magical prowess and unwavering loyalty, was named Grand Magister of Helimdor, overseeing all arcane forces and spell-forged resources. And to his own father, Earl Dunnel Adraels, he gave the ultimate authority over the court's governance, naming him Lord Regent of the Obsidian Court. His brothers, Medrin and Asdrin, were given command over the strategic deployments and logistics of this immense new army. The Obsidian Court was no longer just a name; it was a military and political reality.

---

As the council dispersed, a lone herald approached the dais, his face a mixture of apprehension and urgency. "My lord! A delegation from House Hailch has arrived. They ask for an audience with you and your father."

A palpable silence fell over the courtyard. House Hailch had been destroyed by Tidor, a grim warning of his ruthlessness. That any of them remained was a shock.

Don met his father's eyes, a flicker of surprise in his gaze. He nodded. "Admit them to the private war room."

In the cool, stone-walled chamber, a man stood ramrod straight, his pride a tattered banner that still flew in the face of ruin. It was Earl Dornel Hailch, his face etched with a profound weariness that spoke of lost battles and shattered hopes. His armor was scarred and dented, and he was flanked by a handful of grim-faced, worn warriors—the last remnants of his house. Beside him stood his daughter, Lady Serina Hailch, a young woman of breathtaking beauty, her expression a mix of sorrow and a simmering, vengeful fury.

Earl Dornel dropped to one knee, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Lord Don. I kneel not as a defeated man, but as a loyal son of Helimdor. My house was destroyed. My son, Corvin, was butchered. My lands were seized. For years, we have lived as shadows in the hills, waiting for a champion to rise." He looked up, his eyes meeting Don's, a desperate fire in their depths. "We are but a ghost of a house. But we are willing to bleed for you. We are ready to die for our vengeance."

He rose, gesturing to his daughter and his men. "My men, the remnants of our legions, swear fealty to your cause, Lord Don. We offer you our blades, our loyalty, and our vengeance. In return, all we ask is this: when Tidor's fortress falls, you restore my house to its lands. We will be your vassals, utterly and forever, a loyal sword at your command."

Don listened, his gaze sweeping over the proud, broken Earl and his vengeful daughter. He saw not a defeated house, but a ferocious, desperate hunger that could be honed into a razor-sharp weapon. He saw a loyalty forged in blood and loss, a far deeper bond than any political alliance.

He looked at Caria, a silent question passing between them. Her gaze was fixed on Lady Serina, seeing the same fierce, untamed spirit she herself possessed. Caria gave a subtle nod of assent.

Don stepped forward, his presence filling the room with an undeniable power that promised both a forge and a crucible. "You ask for restoration, Earl Dornel. I offer you more. I offer you a true, unbreakable bond. The south is being remade. And its heart will be bound not just by oaths, but by blood."

He turned to Lady Serina, his dark eyes meeting her vengeful gaze. "Lady Serina, you have lost much. Your house, your brother, your dignity. Join my court, not as a vassal's daughter, but as a queen. Marry me, and your vengeance will be my own. The restoration of your house will be a sacred duty, a foundation of my new empire."

Serina's breath caught in her throat. Her expression shifted from vengeance to a stunned, dawning realization. This was not a mercy. This was a claiming. She saw the absolute power in his eyes, the promise that he would not only avenge her family but elevate them beyond their past glory. She saw an opportunity to turn her loss into a legacy.

She dropped to one knee, her voice trembling with emotion and fierce resolve. "I accept, my lord. My life, my vengeance, my house… all are yours."

Don extended his hand and lifted her to her feet, his touch a silent pledge. The Obsidian Court had a new queen, a new sword forged in the fire of vengeance. With the loyalty of House Hailch now secured, their armies were complete. The lion had gathered every piece it needed. The march on Emberstone could begin.