(The White Castle, Riven’s POV)
The next two days passed in a blur for Riven, as nearly every waking hour was spent familiarizing himself with the White Castle, its countless halls, sprawling courtyards, hidden passages, and the people responsible for keeping the ancestral seat of House Dawnriver running.
Every few minutes he was introduced to another steward, captain, administrator, servant, or a chef whose name he was expected to remember.
By the end of the second day, Riven had already met the captain of the castle guard, the chief steward overseeing the household, the master of the stables, the keeper of the treasury, the head librarian, the chief physician, and dozens of servants whose responsibilities ranged from preparing meals to maintaining the castle’s armoury.
Thanks to his photographic memory, forgetting a face proved impossible.
The same, however, could not be said for everyone else.
Many servants quietly stole curious glances towards him whenever they believed he was not looking, while whispers followed him through the corridors wherever he walked.
"The Young Duke..."
"He doesn’t look much like the Duke at all does he..."
"They say he has lived a life of extreme hardship until now..."
Although the conversations immediately ceased whenever Riven approached, they resumed just as quickly once he disappeared around the next corner.
As for the first time in his life, Riven experienced what it felt like to become the subject of gossip rather than the one overhearing it.
’This endless chatter, it’s driving me to the edge...’
He thought after just a couple days, as he quickly realized that this routine was extremely tiring.
However, thankfully for him, within the White Castle, the Duke’s word was law.
If he declared the boy to be his son, then to question Riven’s bloodline was to question the Duke himself.
And naturally nobody possessed the courage to do so.
Yet while Riven slowly settled into his new home, the news of his arrival refused to remain confined within the castle walls.
Messenger birds departed Minas Tirith before sunset on the very evening of his arrival, as by second morning, reports confirming that Duke Drew Dawnriver had acknowledged a previously unknown male heir had already begun circulating throughout the Eastern Province.
While by the end of the week, nearly every major noble house within the Empire had learned the same startling truth.
House Dawnriver was no longer without an heir.
—------------
(Somewhere within the Eastern Province, House BlackThorn)
"Bullshit!"
Patriarch Garrick Blackthorn roared, as the report crumpled within his clenched fist before he violently swept every remaining document from his desk.
Scrolls scattered across the floor.
An ink bottle shattered against the far wall.
Even the heavy oak chair opposite his desk toppled sideways beneath the force of his outburst.
"So you’re telling me that the senile old bastard secretly fathered a child with some nameless concubine outside the Empire..."
He snarled, as the veins bulging along his neck became increasingly visible.
"And after all these years, he suddenly decides to bring the boy home?"
The Patriarch laughed bitterly.
"Just how much planning has that old fox done behind our backs to preserve his bloodline?"
His fists slowly tightened.
"Just how many more obstacles must we remove before the Eastern Province finally becomes ours?"
Standing quietly opposite him, Seraphine Blackthorn allowed her father several long moments to vent his frustration before speaking.
"Father..."
She said softly.
"Please calm yourself."
Garrick turned sharply towards her.
"Calm myself?"
He repeated.
"Our greatest opportunity in two decades has just slipped through our fingers."
"It has not."
Seraphine replied without raising her voice.
"Drew Dawnriver acknowledging a son and that son inheriting the Dukedom are two entirely different matters."
Those words caused Garrick’s breathing to slow ever so slightly.
"The laws of the Empire remain unchanged," Seraphine continued, as she calmly picked up one of the scattered reports before placing it back upon the desk.
"Before anyone may inherit one of the Four Great Dukedoms, they must first graduate from the Imperial Academy, receive Imperial recognition as a noble, and demonstrate that they possess the ability to govern their assigned territory."
She gently folded both hands before her.
"That process takes years.
And during those years..."
A faint smile gradually appeared upon her face.
"...many unfortunate accidents can happen."
She concluded, as Garricks expression softened.
"The boy has only just appeared.
He has not yet earned the loyalty of the Eastern Province Bannermen.
He has not commanded an army, nor has he officially entered noble society."
"And most importantly....
Although he has earnt no ally, he has inherited every enemy Duke Dawnriver has spent decades creating."
Silence settled between them.
"Father, this is merely a roadblock on our way to inheriting the east.... Not the end."
She assured, as for several long moments, Garrick said nothing.
"...Very well."
He muttered eventually before letting out a deep sigh, as he regained control of himself.
"Then we shall ensure the boy never lives long enough to become Duke."
He said, as Seraphine nodded in agreement.
—-------------
(Meanwhile, within the Imperial Academy)
The news that a new Dawnriver had been acknowledged reached the desk of the Vice Principal of the Imperial Academy too, who was quite pleased to read that the boy appeared to be of admission age.
"So..."
Chadwick muttered, as he leisurely leaned back in his chair while the corners of his lips curled into a faint smile.
"Looks like another Dawnriver brat will be joining us next summer."
He remarked, as although the report would have unsettled many nobles throughout the Empire, it failed to stir even the slightest concern within his heart.
Instead, he found himself mildly entertained.
The Imperial Academy stood above the authority of any individual noble house.
Whether one entered its gates as the son of a Baron or the heir to one of the Four Great Dukedoms, every student eventually discovered the same truth.
Inside the Academy, noble blood carried far less weight than people imagined.
"It has been... what? Fifteen years since the last Dawnriver brat actually managed to graduate?
Or has it been more?
I can’t recall, since the last one died here so tragically."
He wondered aloud, as he struggled to remember the exact number.
"I suppose the old man finally realized that leaving the East without an heir wasn’t the brightest of ideas."
He chuckled, before placing the report back upon his desk.
"I certainly hope this one proves to be more entertaining than the last."
He muttered, as memories of previous Dawnriver students briefly surfaced within his mind.
They had all arrived carrying the same unshakable confidence.
The same fierce pride.
The same belief that the Dawnriver name alone placed them above their peers.
Some had adapted to the academy life.
Others had been broken permanently by it.
Either way, by the time they graduated, every one of them had learned that the Academy answered to no Duke.
"It doesn’t matter who you think you are before you enter these gates, boy."
Chadwick said with an amused smile, as he lightly tapped the report with one finger.
"Once you’re inside the Imperial Academy... You’ll play by my rules."
He concluded, as without another thought, he pushed the report aside and returned to the mountain of paperwork awaiting his attention, already looking forward to the arrival of House Dawnriver’s newest heir.