Chapter 511: The Great House of Helene (Patreon)

Two hundred warriors of the Cairn tribe, led by their Dusk King marched into the Villa District. Marek glanced at his warriors standing in the rain. They were covered in blood, some their own, most their enemies. They had crossed several districts and fought hundreds of Hollow Shade soldiers and battle mages to get here. Most of his warriors had perished, but every life sacrificed was worth it. 

They stood in front of the silver gates of an enormous manor, far larger than the neighboring manors.

Of course, it had to be, thought Marek.

This was after all the manor of the Helenes, one of the wealthiest merchant families in the entire Ebon Realm. They were not just a Great House, they were a Ruling House, one of seven that sat on Hollow Shade’s Council and ruled over the city. 

Once, long ago, after the fall of the Ebon Lords, the Helenes were only a Minor House, but their leader at the time betrayed their liege, the Royal House of Thorn. It was thanks to that betrayal that the current Ruling Houses were able to defeat House Thorn in the civil war. House Helene was elevated not only to a Great House, but they managed to claim a seat of power in the newly formed City Council, earning the title of one of seven Ruling Houses.

Tamora had told her son Marek the story many times as a child. He should have learned back then to never trust his aunt, Alessandra, or any Helene for that matter. Their family’s power was formed from betraying others. His mother had paid the price for trusting her sister. His entire tribe had paid the price when Alessandra had sent a small army of mercenaries to slaughter Tamora.

Alessandra hadn’t known about Marek. He survived the slaughter and for the last decade, he had done everything to reach this gate.

Marek glanced at Alessandra’s decapitated head hanging from a banner pole carried by one of his men. He had killed his aunt, he had avenged his parents’ deaths, but not the deaths of the countless Cairn people who had been murdered by Alessandra’s soldiers. If he simply left things here, his cousins would one day seek revenge. And the Cairn tribe might suffer again. 

The words of Caligo haunted him. Whichever Cairn adults survive tonight’s battle will die by my hand tomorrow.

Marek shook his head. It was too late to turn back now. He needed to end this tonight. The bloodline of Helene would end with him. He raised his hand in a signal, “Destroy it.”

“Yes, my king.” A battle mage stepped forward and channeled Green. Stone spires burst from underneath the silver gates and ripped them off the hinges with a screeching of steel.

A small retinue of guards stood on the stone pathway leading towards the manor, a final line of defense. They wore gilded armor emblazoned with the sigil of Helene, a horse in mid-stride. Their swords practically shined under the magestone light, unblemished by battle. The guards hid their expressions behind their gilded helms, but Marek could see it; the faint trembling, the shifting of the feet, and the way their eyes flitted back and forth. They were afraid. 

These weren’t soldiers. These were men who had never had to fight a battle in their lives. Ornaments to look pretty and impressive when other nobles came to visit.

Marek couldn’t help but smile wryly. He knew the Helenes had no standing army, but he still had expected more. He supposed they never expected a war, they never expected anyone would dare tread on the doorstep of the Great House of Helene.

He raised his orichalcum spear and pointed at the guards. “Kill them.”

The valley warriors roared in response and charged past him. The guards broke formation as the warriors neared and tried to run, but it was too late. The valley men and women had known battle since childhood. They were upon the guards in an instant, cutting them down from behind.

By the time Marek reached the manor’s front door his men had already finished. He channeled a Brown strengthening spell and kicked the door open. The wood cracked and shattered in a burst of splinters.

The front hallway was empty, but he could hear the sounds of footsteps from within. Marek turned around and gestured to half his men, “Go around and cut off any exits. There is only one gate, but they still might try to jump over the wall. The rest of you, search the house.”

“What shall we do when we find them? Shall we bring them to you?” asked one of his battle mages.

“Bring the Helenes to me. Kill the rest.”

~~~

Terrified shrieks and painful cries echoed throughout the hallways of the Helene manor. Marek walked from room to room, the planks underneath him creaking with every step. His warriors dragged out maids and servants from closets and underneath beds. They kicked and screamed, begging for their lives. But the warriors drew their blades and stabbed them without any remorse.

Marek shook his head. These people were innocent, but so were the parents of his warriors. They were all only children when Helene’s soldiers had attacked. The only guilt they had was belonging to the losing side.

“Get back!” shouted a man from another room.

Marek walked and ducked underneath the doorway. The man was waving a dagger around, as two warriors slowly closed in on him. The man stiffened at the sight of the giant dire human. Marek’s presence seemed to swallow the entire room.

The man paled. He gripped the dagger with both hands. “Y-You… S-Stay back! All of you stay back!” 

“Wait,” said Marek.

The two warriors glanced at their king questioningly.

“Your clothes, they’re nicer than the others outside. Who are you?” asked Marek.

The man licked his lips and swallowed. “I am Henry, son of Helene, and I—”

Marek hurled his spear. The glassy black spearhead skewered Henry and pinned him to the wall. Henry choked blood and spasmed for a few heartbeats, then fell limp. Marek walked over and yanked the spear out. The body fell over unceremoniously.

“That’s three cousins. There should still be one more. Rose, I think. Keep searching for her,” said Marek.

The warriors glanced at the unnaturally giant gaping hole in Henry’s chest before nodding and sprinting away. Marek didn’t blame them. The spear had blasted a hole through his cousin’s chest almost as if an explosion had erupted in his heart. It had flared with power right before he struck. It wasn’t the first time it had happened tonight either.

The spear was growing stronger, he could feel it humming with energy in his hand. Ever since he had entered the city he could feel the spear awakening from its slumber, soon it would whisper its name to him, and he’d be able to call upon its true power.

A warrior rushed into the room. “My king! We found her!” 

Marek gripped the spear tightly. “Lead the way.”

She nodded and led him to a small storage room hidden behind the kitchens. A woman and man kneeling in front of a few valley warriors. The man’s lip was split open from when no doubt he had been punched for fighting back.

The two said not a word, but the defiant anger in their gaze was clear. Marek looked them over and spotted a silver horse medallion lying around the woman’s neck. 

“Leave us. Go search for any other stragglers,” ordered Marek.

His warriors bowed and walked out.

The man and woman wore nothing else, save a pair of fine silken night clothes. 

“You two were sleeping? You two were sleeping as your city burned and your soldiers died defending the wall…” Marek looked down at them, “Is that right?”

Neither spoke, but the man spat blood at his feet in defiance. Marek ignored him and glanced at the woman, “Is this your husband, Rose?”

She glared at him but still said nothing.

Marek nodded with a smile and planted his spear right underneath the man’s jaw.

“Wait, no! Stop! Please!” yelled Rose.

Marek pulled the spear back slightly. “So is he your husband, hm?” 

“...Yes,” she admitted.

The man swallowed hard and glanced at his wife, “Rose, don’t—” 

Marek smacked across the face with the back of his hand. His head snapped back and he tumbled over. He groaned in a daze, a pair of bloody teeth lying a few paces away.

“Tom!” Rose cried out.

“Tom, is it? Don’t worry, I have no interest in Tom,” said Marek dispassionately.

“What do you want!? I’ll give you anything! Just please, spare him!” Rose begged.

“Do you know who I am?” asked Marek.

Rose narrowed her eyes. “You’re valley-born. And a dire human…”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re Marek, the war lord of the Cairn tribe. You’re the one who killed my mother during the parley.”

He leaned in close, “Yes, but do you know who I am?”

Rose frowned. “What? I don’t— I don’t understand what you’re getting at. What do you want!?”

“What do I want…?” He stepped back and stared at the wall in thought. “I’m not sure I even know anymore… I’ve given up so much to get here. I’m not sure there’s enough left of me to want anything anymore.”

Rose looked at him, confused, but she thought it best to not say anything.

Marek noticed her gaze and sighed. He reached underneath his tunic’s collar and pulled out a silver medallion. “Do you recognize this?” 

Rose’s eyes lit in recognition, “That’s…” She glanced at her own medallion hanging from her neck.

“Yes, it’s the same as yours. But it is not your mother’s, is it?”

“...No.”

“Nor is it your brother’s or sister’s. No, this medallion once belonged to my mother, Tamora Helene.”

“Your… mother?” she furrowed her brow.

“Yes, cousin.” He held the medallion between two fingers, “This was hers until she reached out to your mother. When Alessandra found out she was alive, she had my mother murdered.”

Rose’s eyes widened in understanding and horror. “Then this— All of this, it’s because of Tamora.”

“I am the son your mother failed to kill.”

Tears slipped down Rose’s cheeks. She bit her lip, “You already killed my mother. Your revenge is over.”

Marek scoffed softly. “Revenge…? Revenge is a strange thing. It never ends with only one death. It always comes back to haunt us. If I let you go, you will come back to finish what your mother started.”

“No, no I won’t! I swear it!”

“Only a fool would trust a Helene.”

“Gods, I’ll do anything. Please, what can I say to make you believe me?” she whimpered.

“Even if I did believe you, the Helene line has been a blight on this world for too long. I know, I’m one of you. So, I’m here to end it. Once and for all.”

Rose bowed her head and closed her eyes. “...Then spare my husband, please, he has done nothing to you.”

“You’re right, he’s done nothing… Neither had I, when your mother’s mercenaries came to my tribe.”

“Wait! Please, for Stjerne’s sake, wait!” she cried.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Tom smiled shakily at her. He looked away and stared at the empty crates in the corner of the room. “I promise.”

Marek slammed the butt of the spear into Tom’s temple. His head cracked open in a burst of blood and brain matter.

“NO!!” Rose shrieked.

A stifled cry escaped a crate. Marek frowned. He drew close and slowly opened the wooden lid. A small boy was crouched inside. His blue eyes were filled with tears. The child looked up at him and Marek saw the terror in his face.

Marek froze at the sight and shame gripped his heart.

Rose tackled him from behind. “Tristan, run away!”

Marek stumbled back a step. He yanked the woman’s hair and flung her aside. Rose grunted in pain but she staggered to her feet and rushed him again. He pulled his arm back and thrust the spear into her chest. She gasped a hollow raspy sound and her legs buckled underneath her. He tried to pull away, but she grabbed his arm with her trembling hands.

“R… Run…” she mumbled. 

“Get off me!” He pushed her away and she fell haphazardly next to her husband’s body. Marek turned back to the crate, but the boy was already gone.

~~~

Nora smiled sympathetically, “Just a little further.”

“I’m right… behind you,” said Freya between ragged breaths. The battles at the shade wall and medical encampment had taken their toll on her body. Even with the cold rain falling over her, she could feel her inside burning up. Her body was at its limit.

“We can rest once we get to my home,” said Nora.

Freya scoffed. “You know you don’t look much better than me, either.”

“Trust me, I know. I can barely walk straight,” Nora admitted softly.

“Get down!” Freya abruptly tackled her to the ground.

“Ow! What are you—?”

A dragonbane flew overhead and passed by.

Nora felt a chill run through her body at the sight of the monster. “What… What in all the bloody realms was that thing!?”

“The creatures that destroyed the wall,” Freya muttered grimly. “What is it doing in the Villa District? None of our main forces are anywhere near here.”

“It was flying towards the north side of the district…”

“What? Do you know anyone over there?”

“House Mora’s manor is on the north side. Feli… You don’t think…?”

Freya shook her head. “Relax. There’s no way a monster like that would be going after an ordinary human like Feli.”

“You’re right, I’m just being paranoid,” Nora mumbled. 

Freya leaned on Oginum and pushed herself to her feet. “Let’s get going then—”

A small boy turned the corner and slammed into the dwarf.

Freya frowned, “Hey, kid, what are you—?”

The boy looked up at her, breathless. His cheeks were burning red and his eyes were pink from tears. 

“Tristan Helene…?” Freya muttered in recognition. “What are you doing here? Where are your guards? Where are your parents?”

“What is a Helene doing here?” Nora whispered.

He tried to speak but he couldn’t stop crying.

“...It’s okay.” Freya hugged him and glanced around warily, “Everything is going to be okay.”

“Mom, Dad, they…” He buried his head into her chest and sobbed quietly. 

“What happened?” Freya whispered.

“Get away from the boy!” shouted a valley warrior. Several more warriors rushed into the street.

Freya grabbed Tristan and pushed him behind her. Nora stepped up next to her and raised her hands, ready to cast at a moment’s notice.

Freya hefted Oginum and tried her best to hide her exhaustion. She snarled at the warriors, “I’ve killed plenty of you tonight, what’s a dozen more?”

“You won’t find any victory here, dwarf.”

Freya and Nora stiffened at the voice that had haunted their dreams for the last year. Marek stepped out from behind his warriors, orichalcum spear in hand. “I’ll say it once, hand over the child.”