Chapter 61: The Vance Estate
The iron-rimmed wheels sliced through the brown slush of the main courtyard, sending sheets of muddy water across the granite flagstones. Old Garrick hauled back on the heavy leather reins, bringing the four black warhorses to a smooth halt before the pavilion stairs.
Rain streamed off the driver’s oilskin hat and ran in gray rivulets down his thick, bristling beard.
"Lord Leo," Garrick called out, touching the brim of his hat with a weathered knuckle. "Young Master Julian read the lockdown bells from three provinces away and had the horses saddled before the academy messengers even cleared the north gates."
"Good timing, Garrick," Leo said, stepping forward with his hands resting casually in his dark coat pockets. He glanced back toward the two carriages and gave a brief nod. "Valerie, Maya. Take the second carriage. Dry off inside."
Before Valerie could take a single step forward, brisk footsteps splashed across the wet stone walkway. A young nobleman in the silver-and-white mantle of House Voss strolled down the granite stairs, flanked by two armed retainers. He held a silk umbrella aloft, a smug smirk twisting his sharp features.
"Look at this pathetic sight," Dorian Voss sneered, eyeing the soaked warrior women with open disdain. "The proud Knight Captain and the sacred Spiritist, begging for scraps in the rain. Did your holy Hero finally throw you out into the street?"
Valerie stopped in her tracks, her jaw setting hard as her gauntleted fingers tightened against her empty scabbard.
Dorian’s gaze shifted toward Leo, his smirk deepening with malicious mockery. "And Leo Vance, collecting discarded trash from the gutter. Did you think taking in Noel’s broken cast-offs would elevate your standing? My brother Caelum sends his regards. My father and House Voss will strip whatever scraps your family has left."
Beside Valerie, Maya shrank back slightly, her pale fingers gripping the damp sleeves of her robes.
In the original novel, minor cadet branches of House Voss always preyed on isolated students during academy crises. They used public humiliation to extort concessions from vulnerable nobles who had lost their backing.
Leo did not take his hands out of his dark coat pockets. He took one slow, measured step forward.
A sudden, crushing wave of downward pressure rippled across the wet flagstones.
CRACK.
The granite beneath Dorian’s boots gave way with a sharp snap. The invisible pressure slammed down like an iron weight, snapping the silk umbrella and driving the young noble to his knees in the freezing slush.
"Gah!" Dorian choked out, his face driven directly into the muddy water as the crushing force pinned his chest flat against the stone.
His two retainers froze instantly, their hands shaking on their sword hilts without daring to take a single breath. "You are too noisy," Leo said, his voice flat and completely indifferent.
Leo walked past the squirming noble without breaking stride, his heavy boots stepping cleanly around the puddle. "Tell Caelum to bring your father next time."
Valerie stared at the gasping cadet in stunned silence, her heart beating steadily against her ribs. Under Noel’s leadership, every noble threat had meant endless bowing, excuses, and humiliating compromises.
Yet Leo had broken the arrogant young master in three seconds without raising his voice or drawing steel.
"Into the carriage," Leo ordered.
"Yes, my Lord," Valerie answered quietly, stepping up the iron carriage ladder with Maya right behind her.
Elara, Celestia, and Seraphina entered the first carriage. Leo climbed in last, taking his seat across from the three maidens as the carriage doors clicked shut against the storm.
The cabin was warm and dry, heated by brass foot-warmers and lined with thick velvet drapes. Elara sat with her spine straight, adjusting the leather straps on her gloves while a faint, delicate frost-flower bloomed against the warm glass near her shoulder.
"Your family moves fast," Celestia remarked, leaning back against the leather cushions. "To have carriages past the gates before the elder council even sealed the district."
"My cousin Julian runs our capital affairs," Leo replied. "When the academy gates close, the battlefield shifts to the council halls."
Beside him, Seraphina held her silver prayer beads loosely in her lap. For the first time in years, she wasn’t rolling them frantically in prayer; her shoulders rested easily against the cushions, leaning slightly into the solid warmth of Leo’s coat.
Garrick cracked the reins above, and the heavy carriage surged forward through the outer gates. The twin black carriages rolled out through the grand archways of Azure Crest Academy, leaving behind the locked gates and the ruined underground tunnels.
Outside the rain-streaked windows, the main highway into the capital was packed with retreating wagons, academy escorts, and noble retinues fleeing the lockdown.
At every stone bridge crossing, newsboys under oilskin tarps shouted broadsheet headlines into the gray afternoon.
"Emergency broadsheet! Royal Academy underground tunnels collapsed!"
"Hero Candidate Noel severely injured! Dissolution of the Holy Hero Party confirmed!"
"Grand Elder Morzan declares three-month campus quarantine!"
Leo listened to the muffled shouts through the glass, his expression calm and unreadable. The Church would try to control the narrative, but the collapse was already public knowledge.
By dusk, the carriages passed beneath the massive iron gates of the inner city and turned into the wealthy High Crest district.
The convoy rolled through the tall iron gates of the Vance Capital Grand Mansion, pulling up to the wide stone entrance where lantern light illuminated the driveway.
A tall young man in a tailored navy coat stood waiting under the stone entrance with a black umbrella. Julian Vance had sharp brown eyes, neat auburn hair, and the calculating smile of a man who treated politics like open ledgers.
"Welcome home, Leo," Julian said, offering a formal, respectful bow.
A line of estate servants stepped forward immediately, distributing dry wool blankets and hot spiced tea to the arriving party. Julian bowed politely to Elara, Celestia, and Seraphina before turning his attention to Valerie and Maya.
"Welcome to the Vance residence," Julian said smoothly, showing neither surprise nor hesitation at their presence. "Your quarters in the east wing are ready."
A young housemaid with round brown eyes stepped up to Valerie, bowing nervously.
"I am Tilly, my Lady," the girl said in a hurried whisper. "Please permit me to assist with your armor and show you to the bath."
Valerie gave a small, appreciative nod. "Thank you, Tilly."
Once the women were escorted inside, Julian led Leo through the grand hallway and into the ground-floor study.
The heavy oak doors shut out the chill, and the warmth of a roaring birch fire filled the wood-paneled room.
Julian walked over to the side table, poured two glasses of amber frontier whiskey, and handed one to Leo. "The reports from the academy were chaotic," Julian remarked, taking a measured sip. "I take it the situation ended in our favor?"
"The ancient Titan is dead," Leo said, his voice level. "Noel is finished, and his party now answers to me."
Julian let out a quiet whistle, swirling his glass by the hearth. "Impressive. But the capital will not let it sit quietly."
Setting his glass down, Julian spread four wax-sealed folders across the mahogany desk.
"Four developments before tomorrow morning," Julian began, tapping the first seal. "First, the Church of Light has dispatched Senior Envoy Castor to demand the return of Saintess Seraphina. He arrives at noon."
"He will leave with nothing," Leo replied without hesitation.
Julian nodded with a faint smile. "Second, Prince Lucien’s faction has formally petitioned the Ministry of Nobility for a disciplinary tribunal. Lady Celestia already broke their engagement in the dungeon, but Lucien is desperate to save face before the court."
"Lucien was weeping on his knees while I cleared the floor," Leo said dryly. "Let him present his petition."
"Third," Julian continued, his tone hardening slightly. "High Inquisitor Ethaniel Graves has filed a formal inquiry against you, alleging forbidden mana usage during the underground fight."
"And the fourth?" Leo asked.
"Emperor Alaric has summoned the Grand Council in two days to address the academy crisis and frontier defense contracts," Julian said.
Leo looked into the hearth fire, his thoughts aligning with the original novel’s events. Duke Voss had always looked down on House Vance for holding only a frontier barony, completely blind to the truth.
Three centuries ago, during the first great calamity, General Walter Vance had broken the beast tides with cold iron and blood. While capital merchants bought fancy ducal titles with trade gold, the Vance ancestors chose the frontier barony to keep direct military command over the northern gates.
The original land deeds of House Vance had been signed by the first Emperor long before House Voss owned a single merchant shop.
In the original timeline, Duke Voss had leveraged this exact council to strip the Vance barony of nine vital frontier trade grants through forged tax audits. The previous Leo had panicked and lost his family’s standing in a single afternoon. This time, the board was completely different.
"Julian," Leo spoke calmly.
"Yes, Leo?"
"Pull the vault ledgers tonight," Leo ordered. "Every frontier trade receipt, garrison supply record, and border tax ledger from the last three years."
Leo placed his empty glass on the mantelpiece with a clear, solid tap.
"We are not attending that council to defend our grants," Leo said, his voice dropping into a cold, quiet certainty. "We are going to reclaim every piece of land House Voss stole from our grandfather."
Julian let out a low laugh, a dangerous grin spreading across his sharp face.
"Understood, Leo. The certified records will be ready by sunrise."
Later that night, silence settled over the grand estate as the manor lights were dimmed.
Leo walked down the second-floor corridor toward the master suite, his steady footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. A soft rustle sounded from the shadows near the doorway, and Leo paused and turned his head.
Saintess Seraphina stood in the warm lantern glow, freshly bathed, her long golden hair resting against the shoulders of a simple white silk nightgown.
Her cheeks carried a soft flush, and she tucked a damp strand of hair behind her left ear before taking a quiet step across the carpet, lifting her slender hand toward the dark sleeve of Leo’s coat.