Inside the Duke's office, the warm candlelight barely cut through the heavy tension between father and son. John Ragnar leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers.
"Do you know why I intend to hold a grand banquet for Janet's birthday?" John asked with a carefully neutral tone.
Sion narrowed his eyes. His senses had sharpened too much lately to miss the undertone. "Yes, Father. You want to flaunt me."
John blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You want the nobles to witness the return of the Ragnar legacy. You want them to see that the bloodline is not only intact but more powerful than ever. For years, they thought the Ragnar house was broken because of a weak son. This party is your declaration of resurgence… that I, your son, am the symbol of it. Did I get it right?"
Silence hung thick for a moment before John broke into a tired but proud chuckle. "You did. You're far more perceptive than before… Sion."
Sion didn't respond. He had no intention of being someone's pawn—not again.
"But before we jump to appearances," John continued, shifting into his military tone, "what is your insight about the traitors? Their roots seem to stretch deeper than we thought."
Sion crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "There's no one group. It's fragmented—like cancer spreading in different organs. The Merchants' Guild is compromised. The Knights' Squadron has sleeper agents. Even the servants in noble houses can't be fully trusted. If you ask me, we're surrounded."
John's expression turned grim. "You're not wrong. So, what's your suggestion?"
"I need a little time," Sion said after a pause. "But I'll propose a layered plan. Surface testing with enchanted truth relics during gatherings, shadow surveillance of merchant shipments, and I'll personally restructure the knights under a new inspection unit. Anyone resisting will expose themselves. I'll write a report with the full plan by tomorrow."
John nodded, satisfied. "Very well. Be prepared… and don't forget about your fiancée. Duke Samuel has written. She's on her way."
Sion flinched slightly, masking the dread bubbling in his chest. Fiancée…? In this mess? "I'll take my leave now, Father."
John nodded in approval, and Sion turned on his heel.
As he exited the office and stepped into the hallway, the weight of noble politics and unknown enemies felt even heavier than his training sword. The stone walls echoed with the burden of his new reality.
From behind him, Luthor's voice drifted faintly through the closing door. "Master, may I ask… what do you make of the young master's transformation?"
John exhaled deeply, his eyes fixed on the spot where his son had stood moments ago. "He's changed. No, not changed… he's become someone else entirely. But whoever he is now—he may be our salvation."
Sion reached his room, his mind a whirlpool of questions. He slammed the door behind him.
"Raphael. Wake up, buddy. We need to talk."
A small ripple of light appeared mid-air as the tiny angelic form of Raphael shimmered into existence, yawning. "Can I not get five minutes of peace with you? What is it this time?"
"The traitors. The politics. The fiancée. What the hell is going on in this kingdom?" Sion snapped.
Raphael floated down to perch on the window sill, peering out at the moonlit estate. "This kingdom is rotten, Sion. You're right. The betrayal isn't recent—it's been seeping in for decades. The Bethel Empire, the Spade Alliance, and even the Titus Republic have their eyes on Clover. But the worst… is Bethel. They've infiltrated with spies, cults, and assassins. They don't just want land—they want Clover to fall from within."
Sion gritted his teeth. "And I'm supposed to fix all this?"
"Yes," Raphael said simply. "You were sent here for a reason. Allen was a tyrant chasing peace with a blind sword. But Sion... you've been reborn to be more. This kingdom needs a new foundation—and it starts with you."
Sion walked to the window beside Raphael and looked at the stars. "So much is broken. The magic system is outdated. Swordsmanship is all show and no substance. Nobles are parasites. And I… I'm supposed to marry someone I've never met?"
"She might surprise you," Raphael offered.
"I hate surprises."
They both chuckled—tired but genuine.
Sion turned back to his room. "Alright. No more whining. Tomorrow I start rebuilding this world. One broken piece at a time."
Raphael smirked. "Now you sound like a king again."
"No," Sion said. "Not a king. A protector."