Chapter 2: The Rise of Alaric Valemont
He poured himself into his work, determined to ascend even higher within the family's ranks. His father's health was slowly diminishing, and the day was fast approaching when the reins of the Valemont estate would fall to him. Alaric has been prepared for this moment his entire life. His education had been rigorous—tutors, generals, and diplomats had all sculpted him into a strong leader. The military had been his proving ground, where he had acquired the respect of troops and commanders alike. His tactical intellect, coupled with his instinctive sense of justice, had made him not merely a respected figure in the family, but a celebrated one in the kingdom.
Alaric's ascension within the family was not only a product of heredity; it was earned. He had fought in conflicts that had preserved the Valemont territories from invasion. His smart decisions had strengthened their relationships with other noble houses. He was the kind of leader the kingdom needed, a man of principle, but also one who grasped the realities of power. His father, Lord Valemont, had often praised him, glad that Alaric would continue on the family's legacy.
But despite all his triumphs, Alaric couldn't avoid the rising shadow of Edwin. His cousin had always been an enigma—present, yet inexplicably absent in all the ways that mattered. Unlike Alaric, Edwin had never distinguished himself in war, nor had he taken an active interest in the family's business. He walked quietly through life, seemingly content to exist in Alaric's shadow, but Alaric now knew otherwise. Edwin's goals ran deep, and his patience for taking power was disturbing.
Alaric's doubts were not without cause. In the weeks following their disagreement, he began to observe minor changes in the estate's activities. Minor decisions—once clearly his to make—were now being questioned by certain advisors who had always been loyal to his father. Orders that should have been implemented immediately were suddenly postponed. Conversations would abruptly halt when he entered a room, and staff who had once regarded him with unquestioning devotion now averted his stare. Alaric recognized that these were not coincidences. Someone was sowing seeds of doubt within the Valemont household, and there was only one person who stood to gain from this—the guy hiding in the shadows, Edwin.
Edwin had always been skilled at manipulating. Where Alaric led with power and conviction, Edwin worked in nuances, eroding from within. Alaric had no tangible evidence of his cousin's duplicity, but the clues were there. The rumors, the growing hesitancy from trusted advisors, the silent rift in the household—it all pointed back to Edwin.
As Alaric traversed this more dangerous world, his father's condition worsened. Lord Valemont, once a towering figure of power, was now bedridden, his intellect deteriorating along with his body. Alaric spent many hours by his side, gathering what little wisdom his father could still offer. It was during one of these visits that Lord Valemont, in a rare moment of insight, talked of the future.
"The estate... the name... it's yours now, Alaric," his father replied, his voice almost a whisper. "You've always been the one. The family will follow you... the empire will follow you."
Alaric felt a lump grow in his throat. He had waited for this moment for years, yet now, standing on the precipice of his father's death, it seemed empty. Not because he wasn't ready, but because he knew the war for the Valemont estate wasn't simply against foreign enemies—it was against his own blood.
"I will protect the legacy, Father," Alaric swore, clutching his father's feeble hand. "I will lead with honor, as you have."
But even as he made that pledge, Alaric knew it wouldn't be that simple. Edwin had already began to make his move. Alaric could feel it, like the tightening of a noose around his neck.
Days stretched into weeks, and the strain on the estate intensified. Edwin, ever the performer, played his role as the devoted cousin wonderfully. He was always present, hanging just on the edge of every conversation, providing phony pleasantries and disguised compliments. But Alaric saw through him. Every grin, every phrase was premeditated, aimed to weaken Alaric's position.
Then came the news that reaffirmed Alaric's darkest suspicions.
One evening, after a particularly stressful family meeting, Alaric's most trusted advisor, Sir Rowan, approached him in private. Sir Rowan was an older man, loyal to the Valemont family for decades. He had served Alaric's father with unshakable commitment, and Alaric had come to trust him absolutely.
"My lord," Sir Rowan continued, his countenance somber, "there is something you need to know."
Alaric nodded, encouraging for him to continue. The two stood in the dimly lighted study, the weight of unspoken facts hanging in the air.
"There are rumors," Sir Rowan began, selecting his words carefully. "Rumors that your cousin, Edwin, has been making secret overtures to certain members of the court. He's been meeting with aristocrats in private, amassing support for... a change in leadership."
Alaric's heart beat in his chest, while his face remained stoic. "Go on."
"It seems he is positioning himself as an alternative to your rule," Sir Rowan replied, his voice low. "He's been telling them that you are unfit to lead—that your father's illness has left you distracted, and that the Valemont estate would be better served under his control."
Alaric tightened his fists, anger flowing through him. This was no longer simply a subtle power play—this was a full-fledged conspiracy. Edwin wasn't content to simply undercut him; he was actively aiming to take the estate for himself.
"Have you any proof of these meetings?" Alaric inquired, his voice firm despite the wrath rushing through him.
"None, my lord," Sir Rowan confessed. "Edwin is careful. He meets with them under the pretense of social meetings, always in neutral locales. But the whispers... they are growing."
Alaric nodded, his mind whirling. He had known Edwin was ambitious, but this... this was treachery. His cousin was no longer merely a rival—he was a direct threat to the Valemont legacy, a legacy that Alaric had spent his entire life preparing to inherit.
"I will not let him take what is mine," Alaric stated, his voice steely. "He may think he's clever, but I will not be outmaneuvered."
Sir Rowan lowered his head. "What are your orders, my lord?"
Alaric glanced out the window, the flickering light of the estate's torches creating shadows across the grounds. The time for patience has past. Edwin had made his move, and now Alaric would make his.
"Watch him," Alaric replied, his voice chilly. "Every move he makes, every word he speaks—I want to know. He may think he's untouchable, but he's incorrect. I will not allow him steal what belongs to me."