Heirs of destruction, p.1
Heirs of Destruction, page 1
Copyright © 2024 T.N. VITUS
Copyright © 2024 T.N. Vitus All rights reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact authorvitusvital@gmail.com. Thank you for your support.
ISBN
Paperback: 979-8-9868415-2-6
E-book: 979-8-9868415-3-3
Cover art and design by: Sarah Lee
Printed in the United States of America
For those who prefer the quiet company of a book and a loud imagination. Who only come up for air after the final page is over. I see you, and I’m with you. Fantasy is real. You just have to keep reading.
Give me a staff of honor in my old age, but not a scepter to control the world.
William Shakespeare
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
The Great Houses Of Adristan
Calendar
Map
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Language Appendix
Acknowledgement
About The Author
Books By This Author
The Great Houses Of Adristan
I. House Lancor
Keeper of Amenities, Fashioner of All Furnishings, and the Strong Bones of Adristan
Ewan Lancor - High Lord of the First House
Laila Redspire - Lady Wife to the High Lord
Ezra Lancor - Heir Apparent to the High Lord, Prince of Segsiege
Freya Lancor - First daughter of the First House, Princess of Segsiege
Ledger Lancor - Second son of the First House, Prince of Segsiege
Doctrina Lucius - Servant of the Order of the Dux Doctrina
II. House Oberon
Keeper of Health, Healer of All Wounds, and the Rejuvenating Breath of Adristan
Isaiah Oberon - High Lord of the Second House
Sage Oberon - Heir Apparent to the High Lord, Prince of Scalesound
Doctrina Quentin - Servant of the Order of the Dux Doctrina
III. House Veservus
Keeper of Intelligence, Knower of All Events, and the Vast Brain of Adristan
Alden Veservus - High Lord of the Third House
Adria Erestine - The Late Lady Wife to the High Lord
Asriel Veservus - Heir Apparent to the High Lord, Prince of Isle Verdale
Rhaella - Daughter of the High Lord, Ward of House Veservus
Doctrina Dogan - Servant of the Order of the Dux Doctrina
IV. House Redspire
Keeper of the Arts, Master of All Styles, and the Beating Heart of Adristan
Allison Redspire - High Lord of the Fourth House
Lilliana Ledova - Lady Wife to the High Lord
Aida Redspire - Heir Apparent to the High Lord, Princess of Sandorne
Asa Redspire - Princess of Sandorne
Alora Redspire - Princess of Sandorne
Adrianna Redspire - Princess of Sandorne
Doctrina Xanthe - Servant of the Order of the Dux Doctrina
V. House Stillgrove
Keepers of Nourishment, Refiner of All Tastes, and the Full Belly of Adristan
Geralt Stillgrove - High Lord of the Fifth House
Regina Normora - Lady Wife to the High Lord
Gerard Stillgrove - Heir Apparent to the High Lord, Prince of the Mainland
Galilea Stillgrove - First Daughter of the Fifth House, Princess of the Mainland
Roman Stillgrove - Second Son of the Fifth House, Prince of the Mainland
Doctrina Ophelia - Servant of the Order of the Dux Doctrina
VI. House Aviatis
Keeper of the Veil, Seer of All Things, and the Triumphant Spirit of Adristan.
Zerin Aviatis - High Lord of the Sixth House
Raven Aviatis - Heir Apparent to the High Lord, Princess of Pearlscape & High Priestess of the Tradition of Lucerianism
Doctrina Beatrix - Servant of the Order of the Dux Doctrina
VII. House Lightpike
Keeper of Wealth, Accountant of All Coins, and the Nimble Hands of Adristan.
Galahad Lightpike - High Lord of the Seventh House
Regis Aviatis - Lord Husband to the High Lord
Hiram Lightpike - Heir Apparent to the High Lord, Prince of Trimount
Ramsey Lightpike - Second Son of the Seventh House, Prince of Trimount
Doctrina Cadmus - Servant of the Order of the Dux Doctrina
IX. House Midar
Keeper of the Peace, Bringer of All Justice, and the Unrelenting Muscle of Adristan.
Vincent Midar - High Lord of the Eighth House
Madeline Salgrat - Lady Wife to the High Lord
Virgil Midar - Heir Apparent t the High Lord, Prince of Greenisle & Lord Commander of Adristan’s Forces
Doctrina Nicholas - Servant of the Order of the Dux Doctrina
Trigger Warnings
This story contains several sensitive topics, which I’ve done my best to handle with care. If you would like to go into this book fully informed, the trigger warnings are as follows:
Violence, War, Torture, Forced nudity (non-sexual), Branding, Death, Explicit Consensual Sex, Vomit
Calendar
Months of the Year
Map
Days of the week
The Lucerian Calendar is inspired by the stages of stoking a fire. The days are as follows:
Fome Tinder
Incen Ignition
Auct Growth
Increm Flashover
Replet Fully Developed
Cari Decay
Frax Ash
Prologue
“And we name ourselves the governing force of Adristan. Always equals, never tyrants over one another. This power has been vested in us by our own self-determination, against the wishes of an oppressive monarch. Under this new system, eight houses split the responsibilities of ruling, and such a figure will never rise again.”
—Treaty between the founding High Lords of Adristan
The girl did not go easily, and perhaps that was why they had to bind her. To avoid the thrashing and screaming. She was a hitter, which was unbecoming of a girl of her status, but she was young and uneducated in the ways of a Lady. That was why her family had sent her here, after all. Simply donning dresses and curtsying was not enough to qualify one as a Lady. They would know, for Ladies were plentiful after spending time under their guidance.
Something was noticeably different about this one, though. It had been many years since the nation had seen royal blood, but when it was seen, it was undeniable. And the royal blood in the girl standing before them was undeniable. Even as she threw her weight against the bindings, it was clear she was not to be taken for granted. It shone in her eyes and in each wild, commanding movement.
They could see it.
Those minute differences that called back to her predecessors were there and they were clear as day. The order of her birth did not matter, nor did the charge to prepare her for the lifestyle of a Lady.
She was not meant to be a Lady.
She was meant to be a queen.
For so long, this day had seemed unreachable. Years passed—and continued to do so—and the royal line seemingly faded into history. Without a worthy heir, they had to wait in the shadows, biding their time with lesser matters. But they would not be swayed. Not when the fraudulent leaders of both the stronghold and the lesser houses insisted on sitting upon their thrones and hiding behind their parapets. Handing out decrees as though their word was law.
Their betters now sat in seats of power they did not deserve, inferior in every way to the king that had come before. They would not serve false prophets in earnest, but they had to pretend for the time being. They were not fit for war. Not now, at least.
It did not have to come to this. They could have had their needs met peacefully. Diplomatically, even. But the High Lords atop their unearned peaks were not to be reasoned with. Not on matters of ruling. They were convinced that their way was better, purposely ignoring the legacy of rightful heirs to the throne.
But they would be made to remember, even if by force. The girl’s sharp cries rang out across the room as they molded her into the woman—into the rightful heir—she was always destined to
She didn’t want to see at first, and perhaps she wouldn’t for some time. But the truth needn’t rear its ugly head so soon.
Kingdoms weren’t built overnight, and neither were rulers.
They needed time to forge themselves into what their lands and people needed. They needed time to find the strong hand that would guide the future. And though the girl’s hands were weak now, she could be trained. Her spindly, clumsy fingers could be trained into agile, nimble things. She could be taught to slip those deft hands between the cracks that the bloated, greedy ones could not reach through. And her desire to grasp that power would be different.
It would not be greed if it was her right.
The people wouldn’t see it that way at first. Though, given the right amount of time and the girl’s strengthened hand, anyone could be taught to see what was right. And there would be no alternative once the great houses bent the knee. They would be sure of it.
Chapter One
“Once the feigned retreat draws in the enemy forces, we will launch an attack from our hiding post beyond the trees. In order for this to work, we must make camp closer to the mountains to remain better hidden.”
—Battle strategy, from the collected documents of High Lord Alden Veservus
3 Aviatoun, in the Benevolent year 112 A.E.
In the war tent crowded with voices fighting for dominance, Rhaella kept her head down and listened. Though her eyes were on the piece of parchment in front of her, her attention was focused on the rest of the room as she grasped each strand of conversation. There was little she didn’t already know, however, and the men were mostly relaying information she had given them.
It wasn’t so much that she needed to glean any more out of them. Instead, she was pointedly using them as a means to avoid drafting a response to the letter she had received that morning.
War is no time for children’s games. I will speak with the true Hawk of Veservus and no one else.
Although it was only one sentence in a nearly page-long letter, the words jumped out at her. They demanded a response.
The High Lord had made a grand miscalculation when saddling her with the responsibility of impersonating her brother through correspondence, but she hadn’t had the nerve to tell him so at the time. What weight did her opposition carry when she wasn’t even in line to inherit her father’s legacy? That was for Asriel. Her job had always been to be his shadow, never her own.
She told herself the other heirs likely wouldn’t pay attention to who was sending out the strategies when they were winning nearly every battle, so long as they won.
Prince Virgil Midar, though, apparently did pay attention to who was sending him letters.
Rhaella briefly flirted with the idea of lying—of keeping up the ruse until the war was over—but House Veservus could not risk their alliance with House Midar. And they certainly couldn’t risk the invaluable aid of the Midar army either, let alone the good will of their Prince. Her house owed his a great debt. The least she could afford him was some honesty—or at least an approximation of it.
She let her eyes glaze over as a voice on the other side of the tent caught her attention. From anyone else’s perspective, her eyes and full attention remained fixed on the letter in her hands. Her ears, however, latched onto the sounds of one of her father’s men—some Lord or young soldier—laughing too loudly. Too jovial for the grisly scene on the other side of the tent flaps.
Rhaella listened as he told jokes that were crude and ill-timed. She listened to the other men’s responses, whether they encouraged him or told him to piss off. Whatever they said, she cataloged it in her mind. Neatly filing tidbits into categories of important or unimportant enough to relay to her father.
These men were entirely too comfortable around her, forgetting that she was the daughter of their High Lord. Though perhaps if she were legitimate like Asriel, they would remember. But her illegitimacy afforded her the words of loose-lipped men.
Being invisible was her greatest gift, and remaining unseen and unheard was easy enough when those around her assumed she was of no consequence. In fact, they thought her inconsequential enough that, even in her presence, they spoke freely. So she listened.
And so the High Lord Alden Veservus had given his bastard daughter a place at court.
She’d heard enough inside this cloistered tent. Rhaella rose from the corner stool she’d been sulking on and hurried out into the fresh air of the afternoon. None of the soldiers or Lords called out to her. She pocketed their remarks, sorting through which jokes would be worth retelling to Asriel when she saw him. As she crossed the expanse of the camp, she observed the soldiers running drills and formations. There was something so earnest in what they were doing, and the thought drove Rhaella to attempt to ignore how few of them were left.
Virgil had been correct when he said that this was no time for games. Rhaella hated the sounds and smells of war. If she believed in the cause any less, it would be unbearable. But it was only that frail belief in what was to come—that belief as threadbare as spidersilk—that kept her sane.
The presence of her dragon at the edge of the clearing teased her, and she wanted nothing more than to go to him. She saw his scales slinking between the trunks and heard the whisper of his growl as it rustled the leaves. Better to leave Egorion alone, though. If she got too close, she wouldn’t be able to resist taking him to the skies. And since she couldn’t do that, she chose to do nothing at all.
It didn’t take her long to reach her father’s tent, which sat atop a small hill under a couple of trees. She breezed past the guards who stood at the entrance, and she felt the weight of a legacy that was not technically her own as she walked beneath the family crest that was emblazoned on the front. And when she pushed back the tent flap, her eyes immediately adjusted to the shade as she found her father, High Lord Alden Veservus. True to form, he was bent over a pile of letters, furiously transcribing something.
The first words out of her mouth were, “Where’s Asriel?”
“Training with his guard,” her father said without looking up. His pen moved ceaselessly across the page. “Which is where you should be as well.”
“I’m busy. Doing what you always ask me to do.”
He peered up at her. “And have you heard anything?”
She shook her head. “Nothing of value. But if I stop, I’ll miss something that is.”
“Fair enough,” her father said, collecting his pages. And before she could let out a breath, he continued. “But you will make up any missed training after dinner.”
“Yes, because your men won’t admit to treason after their bellies are full.”
Her father sighed wearily. “Did you only come to jest? I’m in no mood, Rhaella.”
Wordlessly, she handed Virgil’s letter to him. His eyes scanned the page quickly the first time, and then she watched as he read it twice more. Once to get a basic understanding, twice to glean the important details, and thrice to gather any hidden meaning the Prince hadn’t said outright.
She fidgeted while she waited, feeling strangely vulnerable with her father’s eyes on her correspondence.
He coughed. “How do you intend to respond to this?”
It was startling, the way he shifted between the roles of her father and of the High Lord of one of the great houses. The muscles in his face contracted differently, his eyes either sharp or soft depending on the situation. And she had learned long ago to discern the subtle nuances in each.
Right now, she was speaking with the High Lord.
“At your discretion,” she answered smoothly. “Although I would suggest that we not continue lying to him. It’s not worth putting our alliance at risk.”
“House Midar would not break our alliance over something as trivial as you concealing your identity.”
“No, but they might stop sending their men to our aid.” She paused. “And we are very in need of men. It simply isn’t worth the risk.”
Casting aside the pile of papers, he looked up at her with a guarded fondness. “Go find Asriel so we can discuss how to proceed.”
