Free Web NovelChapter 167: Flints
Far from the capital, deep within the heavily fortified borders of the Flint region, the atmosphere inside the main estate was incredibly toxic.
The Patriarch of the Flint family stood at the head of a massive, black marble table, staring down at a glowing magical communication scroll. The room was completely silent, the various guild masters and military commanders of the region too afraid to even breathe loudly.
"That absolute failure," the Patriarch said, his voice terrifyingly calm despite the sheer amount of killing intent leaking from his body. "The King took my exiled son, handed him a noble title, and gave him the unowned region."
No one in the room dared to speak.
The Flint family had been suffering a string of humiliating losses recently. They had been aggressively lobbying for the unowned region for years, desperately trying to expand their territory to recover their falling prestige.
And now, the King had simply handed it away to the very trash they had thrown out.
"This is not just an insult," the Patriarch continued, his hands gripping the edge of the table until thin cracks began forming under his fingers. "This is a direct declaration of war against our family. The Crown is intentionally mocking us by elevating that talentless mistake."
He spat the name like it was poison.
"Summon the regional commanders," he ordered, looking up with eyes filled with absolute fury. "I want full surveillance on that boy the second he steps foot out of the capital. If the King thinks he can use my own discarded blood to replace us, then I will gladly bury them both."
"Patriarch, please calm down," one of the older guild masters finally spoke up, looking nervously toward the doors. "Speaking such words against the King is incredibly dangerous. If the Crown catches wind of open treason, we will be completely ruined."
"I do not care what the Crown hears!" the Patriarch roared, slamming his fist onto the table. The sheer force of the blow shattered the marble completely, sending jagged shards scattering across the floor.
"He gave our promised land to the exact mistake we banished! Do you expect me to just sit quietly while the King rubs my own discarded trash in my face?"
"We do not have to sit quietly, Patriarch," another commander interrupted quickly, trying to defuse the terrifying aura filling the room. "The King gave him the land, yes, but he is completely unprotected. He has no army, no infrastructure, and no political backing outside of the Crown."
The Patriarch’s aura stopped expanding, his furious gaze snapping toward the commander.
"We can simply claim the region through a formal territory war," the commander explained, swallowing nervously. "It is entirely legal under the kingdom’s laws. That boy is nowhere near strong enough to defend a massive region by himself. We can march our forces in, crush whatever pathetic defenses he sets up, and take the land by right of conquest."
The absolute rage in the Patriarch’s eyes slowly began to recede, replaced by a cold, calculating gleam. He straightened up, brushing the marble dust off his dark coat.
"A territory war," he repeated, the idea actually working to calm his temper. "Yes. The King wants to test his new toy? Then we will happily break it."
Later that afternoon, after the tense meeting finally concluded, the Patriarch walked out to the private training grounds located behind the main estate.
The vast field was strictly reserved for the direct bloodline of the Flint family. He stood at the edge of the grounds, crossing his arms behind his back as he watched his children practicing their combat skills and magical formations.
A rare, genuinely proud smile slowly replaced the lingering anger on his face. This was the true strength of his family.
"Father!" a bright voice called out from across the field.
He turned his head, watching his youngest daughter, Uriel, jogging over to him. She was dressed in light training gear, wiping a thin layer of sweat from her forehead as she stopped right in front of him.
"You are pushing yourself too hard again, Uriel," the Patriarch said, his tone softening considerably as he looked at his youngest daughter. "Your magical circuits need time to rest between training sessions." ƒгeewёbnovel.com
"I am fine, Father," she replied quickly, catching her breath. Her bright eyes looked up at him, filled with a sudden curiosity. "I saw the military commanders mobilizing at the main gates. Did something happen in our borders?"
The Patriarch’s smile slowly faded, the cold reality of the situation returning to his mind.
"Just a minor political dispute," he explained, keeping his voice carefully controlled. "The Crown has finally assigned an owner to the empty region, and we are simply preparing to challenge the claim."
"Oh," she nodded slowly, still looking slightly confused. "Who did the King give it to?"
The Patriarch’s calm facade cracked slightly, his sheer hatred for the situation slipping through.
"He gave it to that exiled mistake we threw away years ago," he said, his voice dropping into a cold growl.
Uriel froze, her eyes widening in complete shock.
"Hajin?" she asked, her voice dropping into a quiet whisper. The memory of her brother standing next to the Princess flashed through her mind, closely followed by the terrifying image of the wolf girl who had kidnapped her across the ballroom.
"Yes," the Patriarch nodded, his expression turning hard. "But you do not need to worry about it. He is entirely unprotected. We are going to initiate a formal territory war and take the land by right of conquest."
Uriel swallowed nervously, looking back out at the training field. She knew her father believed Hajin was weak, but after seeing him at the banquet and feeling the sheer terrifying presence of Juna, she wasn’t entirely sure a territory war was going to be that easy.
But underneath the lingering terror of the Juna, Uriel’s heart was secretly being swayed.
She reached up, her fingers lightly touching the top of her own head. She clearly remembered the gentle pat Hajin had given her during that chaotic confrontation. For some inexplicable reason, she simply could not get that single gesture out of her mind.
In a Great Family where every interaction was calculated and cold, it was the very first time someone had ever patted her with such genuine, unguarded warmth.
’I want to meet him again,’ she thought softly, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.
"You may return to your training, Uriel," the Patriarch suddenly interrupted, snapping her out of her deep thoughts. "Do not let rumors from the capital distract you."
"Yes, Father," she replied quickly, bowing her head before jogging back toward the center of the field.
The Patriarch watched her leave, his expression immediately darkening into a vicious scowl. He turned his gaze away from his children, staring out toward the distant horizon where the unowned region lay waiting.
’Enjoy your stolen title while you still can, Hajin,’ he thought, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. ’I will make sure your pathetic little territory war ends with your head displayed on a spike.’
