Journey to Become the Zenith

The Weight of Fallen Nobles

Two days before Videl woke up from mana exhaustion, Lane was almost done doing everything written in the list Victor gave her.

The parchment was folded neatly in her hand as she walked through the quieter streets of Fantom City.

Most of the tasks had been crossed out.

Information gathered. Contacts secured. Minor factions aligned.

Only one remained.

The hardest one.

Convince the fallen noble families to join them.

Lane exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the faint morning chill.

Victor’s instructions were clear—too clear.

She could use any means necessary.

As long as their demands didn’t cross the line... as long as it didn’t trample on their group’s dignity...

She was allowed to do whatever it took.

Her grip tightened slightly around the paper.

”...Tch.”

There was another line written below that.

Bring Brinda with you when negotiating.

Lane’s expression darkened instantly.

”I really don’t want to...”

Her voice was low, almost a mutter.

She stopped walking for a second, staring ahead at the western district.

The place where broken pride lived.

Where nobles who once held power now hid behind faded walls and quiet resentment.

”I can handle this myself...”

Her jaw tightened.

She didn’t want to ask Brinda.

Out of everyone—

That woman irritated her the most.

Too bold. Too shameless. Too... comfortable around Victor.

Lane clicked her tongue softly.

”I’d rather ask Clara...”

But Victor had specifically written not to.

Which meant—

He had a reason.

That alone was enough to stop her.

Lane sighed, brushing a strand of her long black hair behind her ear. Her shoulder less black dress shifted slightly with the movement, revealing the smooth line of her collarbone and the subtle rise of her chest.

”...Fine.”

She muttered under her breath.

”First, I’ll try on my own.”

A pause.

”And if I fail...”

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

”...then I’ll ask that bitch Brinda for help.”

Decision made—

Lane stepped forward.

-------

The western district of Fantom City felt different.

Quieter.

Heavier.

The buildings here were not poor—but they weren’t alive either.

Manors stood tall, but their paint had faded. Gardens existed, but they weren’t maintained with care. Guards stood at gates, but their posture lacked pride.

It was a place filled with people who had once been powerful...

And now weren’t.

There were a total of twenty-six fallen noble families in Fantom City.

Some had lost their titles through failure.

Some through betrayal.

Some simply because they had backed the wrong side.

At the very top of these fallen houses—

Was the Redcliffe family.

Once—

They had stood as an Earl household.

A military family.

Feared.

Respected.

Loyal.

And then—

They fell.

Lane slowed her steps slightly as she approached the Redcliffe estate.

Her eyes lifted toward the large iron gates.

Even in decline—

The estate still carried weight.

Tall stone walls.

A wide courtyard beyond.

A manor built not for comfort—but for command.

She could feel it.

This place used to lead armies...

Her gaze sharpened.

”...And now it rots quietly.”

But their fall...

Was not simple.

It was not just failure.

It was politics.

Dirty, quiet, and precise.

The Kingdom of Skyfall had always been different.

Its kings did not keep harems.

The former Warrior King—

Amara’s father—

Had only ever loved one woman.

One queen.

From that union—

Two children were born.

The elder—

A daughter.

Amara.

The younger—

The only prince of the kingdom.

By tradition—

The prince should have inherited the throne.

But things were never that simple.

Amara had always been...

Better.

Stronger.

Sharper.

More capable.

The ministers saw it.

The generals saw it.

Even the people whispered it.

But the King...

He never declared an heir.

And that—

Was where everything began to rot.

The court split into factions.

Some supported the prince.

Others supported Amara.

And the ministers—

They did what ministers always do.

They chose the side that would benefit them most.

But there was a problem.

The prince...

Was beloved.

Not strong.

Not exceptional.

But kind.

And easy to control.

Which made him—

Perfect.

Lane’s steps slowed slightly as she walked.

Her eyes darkened.

”...So they removed him.”

It wasn’t spoken openly.

But everyone with half a brain knew.

The prince’s death—

Was not an accident.

It was a decision.

A silent execution carried out in shadows.

And the Redcliffe family...

Had been used.

The official story said—

The Redcliffes had attempted to assassinate the prince.

A failed coup.

A betrayal.

A disgrace.

But the truth...

Was far uglier.

They had been manipulated.

Used as a blade—

And then discarded.

The ministers had orchestrated everything.

And when the plan succeeded...

They shifted the blame.

The Redcliffes took the fall.

Lane’s eyes narrowed slightly.

”...Classic.”

They weren’t executed.

Not because they were innocent.

But because they had once been useful.

And because—

Killing them would raise too many questions.

So instead—

They were stripped of their title.

Their power.

Their pride.

And left to live.

Which, in some ways...

Was worse.

The former Warrior King had known the truth.

Of course he had.

A man like that didn’t miss things like this.

But he stayed silent.

Not because he was weak.

But because he understood something most people didn’t.

A kingdom is not ruled by the king alone.

The ministers—

Are the pillars.

Break them—

And the kingdom collapses.

So he chose stability...

Over justice.

Lane stopped in front of the gate.

Her eyes softened slightly.

”...And now Amara knows too.”

The current Queen.

She wasn’t blind.

She had seen it all.

Understood it all.

And still—

She had allowed it.

Because this...

This infighting...

Was part of the throne.

Part of becoming king—

Or queen.

The struggle.

The alliances.

The betrayals.

It wasn’t a flaw.

It was training.

---------

Lane exhaled slowly.

”...Disgusting.”

Her voice was quiet.

But there was no hesitation in her eyes.

Because no matter how ugly it was—

That was how kingdoms worked.

Victor knew that.

That’s why he sent her here.

To people like this.

People who had lost everything.

People who had been used.

People who would either break...

Or rise again.