CHAPTER 299: CH 299: NEW ERA - PART 2

In the grand halls of the Armstrong estate, tension brewed like a storm waiting to break.

The heavy tick of the grandfather clock echoed through the hallway, each second a silent reminder of approaching chaos.

Inside one of the lavish sitting rooms, Emelia sat by the window, watching her younger brother Christan pace the floor like a caged beast. He was biting his thumb again—something he only did when deeply agitated.

"Would you stop that? You’re going to make it bleed."

Emelia finally snapped, unable to stand the sight any longer.

Christan turned sharply toward her, his eyes narrowed and filled with worry.

"You don’t get it, Emelia. Father called Kyle back."

She frowned slightly, though she remained composed.

"So? That doesn’t necessarily mean—"

Christan cut her off.

"It only means one thing. He’s going to name Kyle the heir."

At that, Emelia grew silent. She had the same suspicion gnawing at her mind, but she wasn’t as prone to outward panic as her brother.

She folded her hands neatly on her lap and gave him a measured look.

"Father might have called him back because of the war. He wants all his children near."

Christan scoffed.

"Do you even believe that?"

No. She didn’t. And the fact that Christan had spoken the thought aloud made it all the more real.

Emelia sighed, brushing a strand of platinum hair behind her ear.

"It doesn’t change anything. We’ll prepare. If Father has plans, we’ll make our own."

Christan gave her a look of disbelief before nodding tightly.

"You better. Because if Kyle comes back with any formal announcement, everything we’ve worked for is over."

She was about to reply when the doors to the conference room creaked open. Both siblings turned sharply, expecting a servant or perhaps even their father.

But what entered was a teenage boy, barely past fifteen, soaked in blood.

He walked with a casual air, crimson stains covering his fine white shirt and dripping from his fingers.

A crooked smile stretched his face, as if he found amusement in their horror. And then, with unnatural calmness, he spoke:

"Brother. Sister. It’s been a while."

The air dropped ten degrees in an instant.

Emelia and Christan stood, every muscle in their bodies going taut.

Christan was already reaching for the dagger hidden beneath the table. Emelia, though not as fast, felt a cold fury rise in her chest.

Nigel stood before them, a boy painted in blood and wearing a half-smile that chilled the air more than the stains on his clothes. Emelia narrowed her eyes, not yet sitting back down.

"Nigel? What are you doing back already? Your last letter said you wouldn’t return for another two days."

she said, arms folding across her chest.

The boy sighed and shrugged, as though the explanation were too mundane for his tastes.

"I got bored. And tired. And I don’t like this welcome. I expected at least a hug. Or maybe a change of clothes."

He gestured vaguely at the tension in the room.

Christan’s lips curled into a sneer.

"You look like a corpse dragged out of a battlefield."

Nigel gave him a wide-eyed look of mock offense.

"Is that any way to greet your beloved younger brother?"

"You’re not beloved."

Christan growled under his breath.

Emelia gave him a sharp look to shut him up before turning back to Nigel.

"You were supposed to be on the border. Did something happen?"

Nigel waved it off lazily.

"War is boring when you’re winning. I left the rest to the commanders."

Then his gaze sharpened, far too perceptive for someone his age.

"So... where’s elder brother Kyle?"

Both Emelia and Christan stiffened.

Nigel tilted his head, clearly amused.

"What, no one wants to tell me?"

"You should go bathe. Maybe scrub that personality off while you’re at it."

Christan muttered.

Before the insult could escalate, Emelia stepped between them and gave a dainty cough into her hand. Her voice was smooth and controlled when she spoke, but the warning in it was unmistakable.

"Kyle is... out right now. He’ll be back by tomorrow. You’ll meet him then."

Nigel’s smile faded just a bit.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes. Until then, you should rest. And try not to draw unnecessary attention. If Father finds out you came back without orders, it’ll be your head he’s after."

"Father won’t kill me. I’m too useful."

Nigel said with certainty.

But after a moment of thought, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Still, I guess if I make trouble, it might inconvenience brother Kyle."

That made Emelia blink.

There was something undeniably off about Nigel. He was a prodigy in battle, ruthless even by royal standards, and cunning beyond his age.

But when it came to Kyle—he acted strangely respectful. Even reverent.

Christan noticed too.

"You care about Kyle?"

He asked, incredulous.

Nigel shrugged again.

"He’s the only one who didn’t look at me like I was broken. The only one who didn’t flinch when I... came back the way I did. So I’ll try not to make things worse for him. For now."

He flashed a bloody grin.

Emelia sighed, nodding slowly.

"Then wait here. Bathe, change, eat. We’ll inform you when Kyle arrives."

Nigel gave a two-fingered salute before walking off, trailing blood down the pristine hallway.

Christan cursed under his breath, fingers clenching into fists as he watched Nigel’s blood-streaked back vanish around the corridor.

"It’s not fair. Why does he act like a loyal pup in front of Kyle, but like a demon in front of me?"

He muttered, voice taut with frustration.

Emelia, still seated calmly, gave him a sidelong glance.

"The world isn’t fair, Christan. You should know better than to expect fairness from it."

"That’s not the point. He’s our brother too."

Christan snapped.

Emelia stood and walked toward the window, her voice soft.

"And yet, he chose Kyle."

Christan fell silent, the weight of those words sinking in.

Emelia continued, her tone quiet but firm, "Nigel listens to Kyle because Kyle accepted him when no one else would.

When we all treated him like a ticking time bomb... Kyle treated him like a person."

He didn’t respond.

The memory of their younger brother, covered in blood after a training accident, laughing when no one else could stand the sight of him—how could they have known what he would become?

Emelia turned back to Christan and met his eyes.

"Don’t go after him, Christan. You’re the one with too much to lose here."

"I’m not an idiot. I know my boundaries. I’m not going to throw myself into a mess over a mad dog."

Christan replied with a snort.

Emelia arched an eyebrow.

"You say that, but you look like you’re one step away from storming down the hall."

He exhaled slowly, releasing the tension in his shoulders.

"I just don’t like how easily everything seems to fall into Kyle’s lap. Even the monsters kneel for him."

Emelia’s expression softened, her gaze distant.

"Maybe it’s not ease. Maybe it’s the weight of what he’s willing to carry. Kyle’s path isn’t something I envy."

The silence stretched between them.

Outside, Queen drifted silently above the Armstrong estate, its awareness brushing over the threads of fate connecting the siblings.

It had no heart, no emotions, yet it could sense the brewing storm in the souls of men—and it watched with interest.

This family, fractured yet bound by blood, was now at the center of fate’s unfolding script. And Kyle... Kyle was the one dragging them all toward destiny.

Christan finally leaned back and sighed.

"Fine. I won’t do anything stupid."

Emelia nodded.

"Good. We’ll need to be sharp. Once Kyle returns, things won’t be the same anymore."

And outside, somewhere in the vast threads Queen spun across the skies, another knot tightened.