CHAPTER 39
– Council of Blades
The chamber was packed.
High nobles, generals, scholars, and representatives of every major house in Estie sat in the great circular hall, arranged like pieces on a game board.
At the center stood the Emperor, dressed in imperial black, his gaze sharp and unwavering.
And I stood below the platform, my hands folded calmly before me.
Everyone was watching.
Everyone was waiting.
“This is not a small matter,” the Duke of Linden growled. “You’re asking for an unknown child to be recognized as heir to a former royal bloodline.”
“He is not unknown,” I said. “He is my son.”
“You hid him for ten years.”
“To protect him.”
“You defied the law.”
“I followed the Tower’s orders.”
The room stirred.
Whispers. Raised brows. A few uncomfortable coughs.
“You expect us to believe the child created a mineral that rivals orichalcum?” the Finance Minister asked, disbelief in every syllable.
“I don’t expect belief,” I said.
I reached into my cloak and held up a sealed crystal box.
“I brought proof.”
A silence fell.
I walked up the steps and handed the box to the Emperor.
Inside was the mineral. Gleaming softly. Whispering of power.
The Emperor opened it slowly.
A few council members leaned in. Their eyes widened.
“…It’s real,” murmured the head alchemist.
The Duke of Merin narrowed his eyes.
“Even if the mineral is real, how can we confirm the child made it?”
I pulled a scroll from my satchel.
“Jayster’s notes. Structure calculations, failed attempts, mana tuning experiments—recorded in his own hand.”
“You forged them?”
“You can verify the mana traces.”
The Emperor nodded to the palace mages.
Two of them stepped forward and placed their hands on the scroll. A faint blue light shimmered across the parchment.
“…It’s authentic,” one of them said.
“He wrote this,” the other confirmed. “No adult could have restructured the formulas like this. It’s—”
He paused, awestruck.
“—pure genius.”
The room buzzed again.
A few voices still resisted.
“He’s a child.”
“He’s still just a Tower experiment.”
“He could be dangerous.”
I looked up.
“My son is not dangerous. He is gifted. And if Estie turns him away, others will not.”
That silenced them.
They knew I was right.
They always had.
The Emperor raised a hand.
“Enough.”
Everyone fell quiet.
He looked at me for a long moment. Then he turned to the court scribe.
“Prepare the decree.”
“…Your Majesty?”
“The child will be recognized as Jayster d’Arvenia. Heir of the House Arvenia. Mage of Estie.”
The scribe began writing.
Gasps rang through the room.
“You’re legitimizing him?” the Duke of Linden demanded.
“Yes.”
“But—!”
“You forget,” the Emperor said coldly, “who rules here.”
The Duke shut his mouth.
The decree was sealed.
A ripple of power swept through the hall.
It was done.
Jayster d’Arvenia now existed—legally, politically, and irrevocably.
I bowed my head.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor met my eyes.
“Raise him well, Lirien. He will have many enemies.”
“I know.”
And I would fight every one of them.
Far away, in a dusty tower, Jay sat in the corner of a library with a stack of books almost taller than him.
He sneezed, rubbed his eyes, and yawned.
He had no idea what had just happened.
No idea that, in a palace miles away, his name had just been written in history.
No idea that he had just become the most sought-after child in the empire.
But he smiled as he turned another page of alchemy notes.
Because something deep inside him felt lighter.
As if something had shifted.
As if someone, somewhere, had said his name—
And meant it.
