The great hall of Fort Blackthorn was lit with warm torchlight and filled with the scent of roasted meats, fresh bread, and something suspiciously spiced that made Vincent twitch with excitement every time it passed by.
Darin sat at the long, polished table,an intimidating slab of blackwood so large it could've been used as a bridge—with Grumble curled lazily on his lap and Steve sitting on the floor beside him, tail swishing contentedly as he sniffed the trays of food.
Duchess Mary sat at the head of the table, legs crossed, swirling a fresh goblet of wine.
She looked far too relaxed for someone who'd just met the man supposed to replace her as the North's Guardian. But Darin suspected that was part of the game.
"Eat," she commanded, gesturing to the feast. "It's not poisoned."
Vincent gave a dramatic sniff. "That's exactly what someone who poisoned the food would say."
Mary grinned. "Then you'll go down deliciously."
Vincent sat down anyway. "Fair trade."
The rest of Darin's crew took their seats, Alvin, arms crossed and brooding as usual, the Sorceress, reserved but observant; and a few high-ranking squad leaders from their army who'd been invited as a courtesy.
The cultists were… not invited.
Mary had, very politely, said she "didn't want to find a worship circle around the soup."
Darin stabbed a piece of meat, chewing slowly. His body was sore, his mana was still recovering from the core absorption, and his mind was juggling roughly fourteen political possibilities and at least three "what if this is a trap" scenarios.
Mary took a sip from her goblet, then leaned forward. "So. You fought subterranean war ants. In the Reaper Forest."
Vincent chimed in, mouth full. "Yep. Big ones. Spit acid. Bit Alvin's pants off."
Alvin didn't flinch. "They regenerated."
Mary raised an eyebrow. "The pants?"
"No, the ants."
"Shame."
She turned her attention to Darin again. "And you—absorbed the core of a corrupted abomination that would've turned most men inside out."
Darin shrugged. "It felt like that for twenty minutes."
Mary chuckled. "I'll give you this, you don't exaggerate. Good. I hate liars."
Vincent whispered, "I lied about the pants."
Alvin elbowed him under the table.
The Sorceress, surprisingly, broke her silence. "Darin has a way of making disaster look like improvisation. He doesn't plan. He reacts. And somehow, it works."
Mary tilted her head, her violet eyes sharp. "Is that a compliment?"
The Sorceress blinked. "Unfortunately."
Darin, now officially outnumbered by women who could kill him in eight different ways, decided to change the subject. "So… how exactly are you planning to train me?"
Mary leaned back. "The King wants you trained. Polished. Refined. Theoretically, he wants you ready to defend the North."
She drained her goblet. "I want to retire and drink."
"That's fair."
"But if you're going to take my place, boy…" Her tone shifted, becoming colder. "You're going to earn it. I'm not handing over eighty years of work to someone just because he's 'the King's favorite cult mascot.'"
Grumble yawned on Darin's lap.
Mary eyed him. "That one's terrifying."
"I know," Darin said. "He eats things he shouldn't be able to chew."
"Like ants the size of horses?"
"And that one cursed tree," Darin added, shivering. "It screamed."
Mary chuckled. "Good. I like him."
She poured herself another glass of wine, slower this time. "You've got an army, a beast, a dragon, a pair of nobles, a rare sorceress besides you, and enough enchanted monster parts to fund a civil war. But what you don't have..."
She pointed her goblet at him.
"is experience holding a border where death walks on two legs."
Darin leaned back. "I fought death, and it was slimy. This sounds worse."
Mary's smirk faded slightly. "The North is not the capital. You're not dealing with nobles scheming or priests yelling. You're dealing with raids, politics between races, forgotten gods, cursed mines, wandering beasts, and old alliances older than your cult's scripture."
"Sounds exhausting."
"It is."
She paused.
Then, slowly, her smile returned. "But it's also… fun."
Darin blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"You're in charge now, Darin," she said, voice low. "Your soldiers look to you. That girl watches over you. Your adorable idiot cults follows you like you fart gold."
Vincent snorted wine out his nose.
Mary ignored him.
"You're not just a symbol anymore. You're a force. And the North will either crush you, or you'll make it yours."
The room was quiet for a moment.
Darin swallowed. "So… no pressure, then?"
Mary grinned. "None at all."
Vincent leaned in and whispered to Alvin, "Okay, she might be scarier than the ants."
"She is," Alvin replied.
Mary rose to her feet.
"That's enough for one night. We start drills tomorrow. Terrain familiarization. War table simulations. I want your top commanders introduced to my captains."
She started walking out, then paused.
"Oh. And Darin?"
He looked up.
"You're not what I expected." A beat passed. "But I'm curious to see what you become."
She left without another word.
Darin let out a long breath and collapsed onto the table. "Why is everyone in this kingdom either a warrior goddess or a raving cultist?"
The Sorceress, for once, smiled. "Because the sane ones die first."
Later That Night…..
Darin sat on a hill just outside the fort, overlooking the temporary camps. The soldiers were relaxing, the cultists were holding a quiet prayer circle that involved far too much chanting, and Vincent was halfway through teaching a group of mercenaries how to cheat at cards.
Grumble was curled up beside him. Steve lay sprawled in the grass, snoring gently.
The stars were out. Cold northern wind ruffled Darin's hair.
"So," the Overlord's voice said lazily, "I wonder what happened to her great great grandmother"
Mary?
"Oh yes. The Jade family line. They've always been dangerous. Beautiful. Loyal to a fault. Excellent drinking partners. You should ask her about the time her great-grandmother stabbed me in the ribs."
Romantically?
"Not at all. I was trying to conquer her kingdom. She didn't like that."
Huh. What happened after?
"We got drinks. Then she stabbed me again. Ahh, women."
Darin chuckled under his breath.
Then he looked out at the gathered fires, the soldiers, the beast, the madness… and the strange peace that had followed.
"I think I'm finally getting used to this," he whispered.
"Getting soft on me?"
"Maybe."
A pause.
Darin sat back, closed his eyes, and let the stars fill his vision.