CH283 Ambition and Politics
"I intend to ask Father for some opportunities on your behalf. But before I do that, I want to run my ideas by you, to see if you’re truly interested," Alex revealed.
His siblings immediately perked up—none more so than Wilbert, whose excitement was written all over his face.
"Did Father agree to let me go to the school you recommended?" he blurted out.
"He did," Alex confirmed. "The school will open in a few months’ time. I won’t be around by then, but I’ve already made arrangements with the staff to ensure someone picks you up and delivers you safely. The school is a boarding school, so you’ll only return home a few times a year for set breaks. Make sure you’re ready for that." Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on NoveI[F]ire.net
"Yes!" Wilbert cheered. "Thanks, big brother!"
Alex’s warm smile faded into a solemn expression.
"Remember what I told you, Wilbert. The school is on its way to becoming one of the best learning institutions on the continent. The competition for entry is fierce. I can get you admitted, but whether you remain there and benefit from its top-class facilities will depend entirely on your own effort."
"I understand, big brother. I won’t let you down," Wilbert said earnestly.
"No." Alex shook his head. "This isn’t about letting me down. It’s about not letting yourself down—and securing your future. You want to be the Fury family’s first Magic Armour Designer, don’t you? Then don’t waste this chance. Focus, and grab it with everything you have."
"Yes, big brother!" Wilbert nodded, his expression firming with resolve.
Alex was about to turn to the others when he suddenly remembered something.
"Oh, right. One of the conditions of becoming a student there is that you must leave your family name at the door. Within the four walls of that school, commoner or noble, everyone is equal in the eyes of the institution. I don’t know how strictly they can enforce it, but still—I want you on your best behaviour. Don’t act like the spoiled brats of the nobility. You’re not there to fool around. You’re there on a mission—a mission that will decide whether or not your dream becomes reality."
Alex paused, then let his smile return.
"That said, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have fun or do what you truly want. Just make sure that whatever you do aligns with your mission—and that it’s something you’re ready to shoulder the consequences for, good or bad."
Wilbert nodded quickly.
"Lastly," Alex continued, "although you are forbidden from bullying anyone, if you see someone being bullied, whether you step in or not is up to you. But if someone dares to bully you..."
His ruby-red eyes darkened to a deeper crimson, a trace of the killing intent and bloodlust he had forged on his last campaign slipping free.
"...remind them that you are of the Fury family," he said, voice chillingly steady. "No matter how badly you beat them, as long as you don’t kill them nor destroy their ability to procreate, the family—and I—will stand behind you."
"Yes, big brother," Wilbert replied with as much solemnity as his young face could muster.
Perhaps because of his youth, Wilbert remained oblivious to the oppressive weight of Alex’s aura. To him, Alex was still just a caring older brother.
The others, however, were not so fortunate.
Seraphina, Sophia, and Ulfman exchanged subtle glances. In their eyes flickered the same trace of trepidation, a silent confirmation of what they had begun to suspect—behind Alex’s genial façade lay something far more dangerous.
They could feel their bloodlines shiver under the faint exertion of his own. The Calm Madness that pulsed from him was proof enough: Alex was not only stronger than them, but his bloodline purity was likely higher as well.
Unconsciously, they straightened in their seats, their earlier casualness replaced by a readiness to listen with care and respect.
It was said family was often one’s greatest blind spot. Even someone as observant as him, engrossed in playing the role of the affectionate elder brother, failed to register the subtle changes in his siblings’ demeanour.
He believed affection was the key to winning them over. But the truth was harsher.
As inheritors of the Furor Bloodline, Seraphina, Sophia, and Ulfman respected strength above all else. They would only ever submit to one who proved stronger.
His affection did not win their loyalty. It tempered their rebellion—and made it easier for them to accept the fact that they had already submitted to him.
Still oblivious to the subtle shift in his siblings’ attitudes, Alex turned to Ulfman.
"I know your dream is to become a Magic Armour User, and your ambition is to be the first trueblood Fury to hold the position of Lord Marshall of the Fury Army. The first is simple enough—if you have the aptitude to resonate with a Magic Armour and the will to tame its ego. The second... that’s where the real difficulty lies."
He leaned forward slightly. "Do you know why no trueblood Fury has ever claimed the Lord Marshall’s seat? It isn’t because no one strong or skilled enough has tried. The reason is something else entirely. Do you know what it is?"
Ulfman frowned, thinking hard. "Our bloodline... makes us bad commanders?" he ventured uncertainly.
"No." Alex shook his head, then glanced at Sophia. "Sofi?"
"Politics," Sophia said without hesitation. "The reason is politics."
"Exactly." Alex nodded.
Ulfman’s brows furrowed even deeper. His confusion was plain.
"I think it’ll be better if you explain it to him, Sofi," Alex said.
Sophia inclined her head, then turned to Ulfman.
"The Fury Family has countless branches, most of them locked in a constant struggle for influence over the whole clan. Within that power struggle, three seats stand above the rest: the Family Head, the Elder Council, and the Lord Marshall of the Fury Army."
She paused to let her words sink in.
"The first two are essentially one—since the Family Head is chosen from among the Elder Council, whose seats are claimed by sheer individual strength and controlled military might. The strongest of whom becomes the Head of the Family."
Ulfman nodded slowly, following so far.
"As for the Lord Marshall, in principle, the seat is meant to go to the highest-ranking serving officer of the Fury Army. Naturally, many Furies rise to those ranks. But the Lord Marshall’s chair has never been given to a Fury. Instead, it’s almost always gone to outsiders—most often the Lawsons. Do you know why?"
She didn’t wait for his answer.
"Because no branch of the Fury family is willing to see another branch control the Army. There is always the paranoia that, if one branch took the position, they could use the Army to cripple rival branches and tilt the balance of power. So, over generations, the branches reached an unspoken agreement—to keep the Lord Marshall’s seat in the hands of non-family members."