Chapter 48: The Unshaken Heir
The grand hall of the Everhart estate stood bathed in the soft glow of golden chandeliers, its towering marble columns stretching high into the ceiling. The room, vast enough to host the grandest of gatherings, now served as the meeting place for the most powerful noble houses in the empire.
At the head of the hall, seated on an ornate throne-like chair, was Grand Duke Aldric Everhart. His piercing crimson gaze swept over the assembled nobles, his presence alone suffocating. To his right sat his wife, Lady Selene Everhart, her beauty ethereal, her expression cold and unreadable.
But the one who commanded the most attention stood before them.
Leonhardt Valerian Everhart.
At just ten years old, he stood before the gathered nobles like a monarch in the making—unshaken, composed, and exuding a presence far beyond his years.
His ashen-black hair gleamed under the soft glow of candlelight, subtle hints of crimson flickering as he moved. His fiery red eyes, flecked with gold, burned with an intensity that made seasoned nobles shift uncomfortably.
Today, the Imperial Court had gathered to discuss matters that would determine the future balance of power in the empire. And at the center of it all—was him.
A Challenge in the Hall
The room was thick with tension. Nobles from various houses stood in clusters, whispering in hushed voices. While some looked at Leonhardt with admiration, others watched him with thinly veiled hostility.
Seated among them was Duke Evermore Faydren, a powerful noble with strong influence in the imperial court. His sharp blue eyes, filled with disdain, locked onto Leonhardt as he leaned back in his chair.
"A mere child who hasn't even reached his twelfth year dares to stand among us?"
His thoughts mirrored those of many others. They had come expecting to deal with Aldric Everhart—not his heir.
But the moment Leonhardt stepped forward, all doubts were forced into silence.
"You summoned me, Duke Faydren?" Leonhardt's voice was even, neither disrespectful nor submissive.
Duke Faydren smirked. "I simply find it fascinating that House Everhart has already begun placing its hopes in a mere boy. Tell me, Lord Everhart, do you truly believe you are fit to represent your house?"
Murmurs of agreement echoed through the hall. Some nobles chuckled, eager to see how the young heir would respond.
Leonhardt remained still, unbothered.
"Fit?" He repeated, tilting his head slightly, a slow smile creeping onto his lips. "And what does it mean to be fit, Duke Faydren? Do enlighten me."
The room grew silent.
The boy's words, calm yet razor-sharp, cut through the air.
Duke Faydren's smirk faltered.
Leonhardt took a step forward, his crimson eyes locking onto the duke's.
"If being 'fit' means possessing strength, wisdom, and the ability to command fear—then tell me, which of these do you believe I lack?"
The air turned heavy.
Even among seasoned warriors and aristocrats, none could deny it—Leonhardt Everhart was no ordinary child.
A Duel of Pride
The tension broke when a noble from Duke Faydren's faction stepped forward. Marquis Roland Tervaine, a renowned swordsman, smirked as he rested a hand on his sword.
"A ten-year-old dares speak like a man? Then let him prove himself."
"I wonder," Roland mused, "can you wield a blade as sharply as your words, young lord?"
A clear challenge.
Silence followed.
All eyes turned to Aldric Everhart. The Grand Duke had been watching in silence, his expression unreadable.
Would he allow his son to be challenged?
A moment passed—then Aldric gave a slight nod.
Leonhardt's lips curled into a knowing smirk.
"Very well," he said, stepping forward. "Let's test your theory, Marquis Tervaine."
The Duel Begins
The hall cleared as space was made for the duel. Servants swiftly brought practice swords, but Leonhardt barely spared them a glance.
"Bring me a real blade," he said.
A murmur of shock swept through the hall.
Roland frowned. "Are you sure, Lord Everhart? A real sword may be too much for—"
"Do you intend to fight me with a wooden stick, Marquis?" Leonhardt interrupted, his tone mocking.
Roland scowled. He could feel the nobles watching. If he refused, it would seem as if he were underestimating his opponent—or worse, afraid.
With a nod, he signaled for real swords.
A blade was placed in Leonhardt's hand. It was slightly too large for a child's grip—but that did not matter.
He held it with effortless ease.
The duel began.
A Predator in a Child's Body
Roland moved first, lunging forward with calculated precision. His movements were fast—too fast for a child.
But Leonhardt was already gone.
The moment Roland's blade sliced forward, Leonhardt sidestepped, barely shifting his weight, moving like a shadow slipping between cracks of light.
The audience barely saw it.
A ten-year-old child had just evaded an elite swordsman with terrifying ease.
Roland's eyes widened.
Before he could react—
Leonhardt struck.
A sharp flash of steel—
Roland barely managed to block, his entire body jolting from the force. His arms numbed instantly.
It was absurd.
"Impossible. How is he this strong—?!"
Leonhardt did not stop.
His blade became a storm, relentless, suffocating. Each strike forced Roland to step back. His overwhelming swordsmanship did not belong to a child—it belonged to a monster.
And then—
With a single step, Leonhardt twisted his wrist—
CRACK!
Roland's sword was sent flying from his grip.
He staggered back, panting, disbelief flooding his face.
And Leonhardt did not even look winded.
The hall was silent.
Not a single noble spoke.
Leonhardt turned slightly, his fiery eyes sweeping over the stunned crowd.
Then, with an air of absolute indifference—
He tossed his sword aside and walked away.
The Aftermath
Aldric Everhart watched as his son returned to his side.
For the first time in years, a glimmer of satisfaction flickered in his crimson eyes.
Leonhardt stood before the nobles once more, his voice calm but undeniably commanding.
"Does anyone else wish to question my qualifications?"
No one spoke.
The nobles who had doubted him now stared in quiet horror.
Because they had realized something terrifying.
Leonhardt Valerian Everhart was not just a promising heir.
He was already stronger than most of them.
And he was only ten years old.
A New Era Begins
As the gathering dispersed, Duke Faydren sat in silence, his hands clenched.
"This boy… is not normal."
From the shadows of the hall, unseen figures watched.
The Empire had long feared the Everharts.
Now, they would come to dread them.
Because Leonhardt Valerian Everhart—the heir to the strongest house—was a monster in human skin.
And soon, the entire world would know it.