Noir—or Eryk, as he had to remind himself—stood before the grand doors of the council room. He could feel the tension radiating from the room even before he entered. This was where decisions were made, where the fate of noble houses was debated, and from what he had gathered, it was the place where the Lavelle family's last hopes clung by a thread.
His hand hesitated on the handle for a moment. How had it come to this? Days ago, he had been dying in an alley, bleeding out from a bullet wound, cursing the world. Now he was walking into a council meeting, wearing a body that wasn't his, with expectations he couldn't possibly meet. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
The council room was as grand as the rest of the estate, though there was a sense of age and wear in the details. The heavy wooden table that dominated the center of the room was scratched from years of use, and the shelves of books lining the walls were worn, some of the leather bindings cracked with age. It was a place that had seen better days, much like the family that owned it.
Lord Lavelle sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable as he studied a series of maps and documents spread out before him. A few advisors flanked him, their faces grim. Noir stepped inside, and the weight of the room's atmosphere settled on him immediately.
"Eryk," Lord Lavelle said, not looking up from his maps. "You're just in time. Sit."
Noir nodded and took a seat across from him. As he sat, he glanced at the maps on the table. They showed various noble houses, marked with symbols Noir didn't recognize, along with key locations in the kingdom. It was clear this wasn't just a casual gathering—this was about power, alliances, and survival.
"The gathering is only days away," Lord Lavelle began, finally lifting his gaze to meet Noir's. "This is our last chance. We need to secure support from at least two of the major noble families. Without their backing, we'll be forced to sell more of our land, and once that happens, our downfall will be inevitable."
Noir listened in silence, trying to make sense of the political landscape he had suddenly been thrust into. The names of noble houses were tossed around—House Vale, House Solis, House Thorne—all of which seemed to hold significant influence. But from what he could gather, the Lavelle family was barely clinging to its position.
"There are those who will try to take advantage of our situation," one of the advisors said, his voice low and cautious. "House Vale, in particular, has been circling like a vulture for months now. If we're not careful, they'll move in to acquire our lands at a fraction of their worth."
Noir frowned. This felt oddly familiar—like the criminal underworld he had once inhabited. The power struggles, the betrayals, the constant maneuvering for control. It seemed that nobility wasn't much different from the world he had left behind. Only the stakes were higher, and the consequences more far-reaching.
Lord Lavelle's voice cut through his thoughts. "You must be careful, Eryk. We cannot afford any mistakes. You'll represent our family at the gathering, and your performance will determine how the other houses see us. If they sense weakness, we're done."
Noir nodded, though his mind was racing. He didn't know the first thing about noble gatherings or alliances. He had lived his life taking what he wanted, never staying long enough to deal with the fallout. But this… this required finesse, patience, and tact—qualities he had never needed as a thief.
"Are there any houses we can trust?" Noir asked, trying to sound as though he was familiar with the political landscape.
Lord Lavelle sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Trust is a rare commodity in these times. House Solis may be sympathetic to our cause, but they've kept their distance since the fall of our fortunes. House Thorne might be willing to listen, but they've aligned themselves with Vale more recently. No, Eryk, we can trust no one completely. Not in these times."
Noir nodded again, but inside, he felt the familiar stirrings of unease. It was all too familiar—the lack of trust, the constant suspicion. He had lived his entire life surrounded by people who would betray him for a few coins, and now, even in this new world, he couldn't escape it.
…..
As the meeting wound down, Lord Lavelle shared more of the Lavelle family's history—how they had once been the most powerful noble house in Valentris, wielding influence over trade, politics, and military decisions. But that power had waned over the years, thanks to a series of political missteps and alliances with untrustworthy houses.
"The Lavelle name still carries weight," Lord Lavelle said, his voice hard with determination. "But that weight is diminishing. And if we don't act soon, it will disappear altogether."
Noir didn't respond immediately, his thoughts drifting to his past. The Lavelle family's downfall reminded him of the many thieves and gangs who had tried to rise to power in the underworld, only to be taken down by a single wrong move. Power was fleeting, and the higher you climbed, the further you had to fall.
But unlike those thieves, the Lavelle family wasn't fighting for personal gain. They were fighting for survival. And somehow, Noir was supposed to be the key to that survival.
…..
Later that evening, Noir found himself walking through the estate's gardens, his mind heavy with the weight of the day's revelations. He had learned more about the Lavelle family's troubles than he had anticipated, and now the burden of their expectations weighed heavily on his shoulders. Could he really pull this off? Could he navigate a world he didn't understand and save a family that wasn't even his?
He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned to see Lilia approaching, her expression one of concern.
"Eryk," she said softly, stepping closer. "You've been quiet since the meeting. I know it's a lot to take in."
Noir forced a smile, though it felt strained. "It's… overwhelming," he admitted. "There's so much at stake."
Lilia's gaze softened, and for a moment, Noir saw a glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes. "I know Father puts a lot of pressure on you, but you don't have to bear this burden alone. We're in this together."
Noir's heart twisted. The way she spoke, with such sincerity, made him feel a pang of guilt. He wasn't Eryk, and he wasn't part of this family. He was an outsider, a thief who had stumbled into a life that wasn't his. But Lilia didn't know that. To her, he was her brother, someone she cared about, someone she trusted.
"I'll do my best," Noir said, his voice low.
Lilia studied him for a moment, then stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. "You seem… different since your illness. I can't explain it, but it's like you've changed. You're distant."
Noir tensed. She was observant, more so than he had realized. If he wasn't careful, she'd start asking the wrong questions, questions he didn't have answers for.
"I've just been thinking a lot," Noir replied, trying to sound casual. "About our family, about the future."
Lilia didn't seem convinced, but she nodded slowly. "Just… don't shut me out, Eryk. We're all we have."
Noir felt a lump form in his throat as Lilia turned and walked away. Her words lingered in his mind long after she had gone.
…..
The next day, Noir found himself in the estate's training hall, where Lord Lavelle had arranged for his magic lessons to begin. The room was vast, with high ceilings and walls lined with weapons and magical artifacts. A faint hum of energy filled the air, a reminder of the power that flowed through this world.
An older man stood waiting for him in the center of the room. He was tall, with a stern expression and a commanding presence. This, Noir assumed, was his magical instructor.
"Eryk Lavelle," the man said, his voice deep and authoritative. "I am Master Theron. I will be guiding you through your magical training. Your family's Crimson Eyes are a gift, but they must be cultivated carefully if you are to wield their full potential."
Noir nodded, though he had no idea what the Crimson Eyes were truly capable of. He had felt the magic within him—felt it pulse beneath his skin like a sleeping dragon—but he didn't know how to control it.
"Magic is an extension of your will," Master Theron continued, pacing in front of him. "It responds to your emotions, your intent. But it must be harnessed through discipline. Without discipline, power is nothing more than a spark waiting to ignite."
Noir listened intently as Theron explained the fundamentals of magic in this world. It was a complex system, built on the manipulation of energy and the cultivation of one's magical core. The Crimson Eyes, Theron explained, were a unique trait passed down through the Lavelle bloodline, allowing those who possessed them to see the flow of magic in all things.
Noir's head spun with the new information, but he remained focused. He needed to learn this, needed to understand how to control the power within him. Because without it, he was vulnerable. And if there was one thing Noir hated, it was being vulnerable.
…..
That night, as Noir wandered the estate's halls, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. The air felt thick with tension, and his instincts told him something was off.
He turned a corner, heading toward the library, when a shadow moved in the corner of his eye. Noir tensed, his hand instinctively going to his side, though he had no weapon to draw.
"You don't belong here."
The voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but it sent a chill down Noir's spine. He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out the figure in the shadows.
A man stepped forward, his face obscured by the darkness. "You think you understand the Crimson Eyes, but there's more to that power than even your family knows. Be careful, Eryk. Power always comes with a price."
Noir's heart raced, but before he could respond, the figure melted back into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.
Noir stood there, his mind racing. Who was that? And what did he know about the Crimson Eyes that the Lavelle family didn't?
Whatever the answers were, Noir knew one thing for certain: nothing was as simple as it seemed in this new world.