The Sovereign Chronicles novel Chapter 43

Kaelen resumed his journey at dawn, avoiding every Spirit Beast, hunting party, and occasional mercenary band he could. He pushed himself to the limit, all while acclimatizing to the brutal ecosystem of the wild.

Two days later, he crossed the boundaries of The Sacrificial Peaks and plunged into the far more dangerous, primordial depths of the Veilwood Forest, making a beeline for The Ironcrag Quarry.

The deeper he ventured, the deadlier the environment became. He witnessed bizarre and terrifying Spirit Beasts.

He caught a fleeting glimpse of The Spectral Hart before it dissolved into the mist; he watched a fifty-foot-tall Crag Troll tear through the ancient mountains; in the dead of night, he saw a troop of Moon-caller Apes absorbing lunar Aether; he even witnessed a majestic, serpentine leviathan commanding the storms above a roaring river.

Through sheer willpower and heightened survival instincts, Kaelen navigated the horrors.

On the eighth day of The Grand Hunt, he finally arrived at The Ironcrag Quarry!

This sprawling mountain range, nestled in the northeastern expanse of the Veilwood Forest, was a massive mining complex stretching over twenty miles.

It housed five colossal Aetherium Crystal mines, supplying The Azure Sky Sanctum with a staggering amount of wealth every year. A portion of the crystals fueled the Sanctum's disciples, while the rest was traded to the outside world for priceless alchemical herbs and elixirs.

Even before Kaelen drew near, he could feel the suffocating, feverish heat of the industrial labor camp.

Over two hundred thousand thralls were worked day and night, bleeding for the Sanctum's resources. Every single one of them hailed from The Stormhold Citadel. They once lived prosperous, peaceful lives. But because of the 'incident' eight years ago, they had been condemned to slavery, toiling away in this isolated, inescapable hell.

Eight years! Eight long years!

Standing on a high ridge overlooking the quarry, Kaelen stared in silence. A sudden wave of cowardice washed over him. He was terrified to get closer. Terrified to see the unimaginable torment his people were enduring.

What truly happened eight years ago? Kaelen still didn't know the full truth.

"Because the tribute The Stormhold Citadel was escorting to the Sanctum was hijacked, incurring the wrath of the Grand Elder." That was the official story Captain Tyrus had given him years ago. But thinking about it now, it couldn't possibly be that simple.

Kaelen scaled a taller peak nearby and concealed himself in the canopy, waiting for nightfall while staying highly alert. The woods surrounding the mines were teeming with high-tier Spirit Beasts and ruthless mercenary bands. They constantly lusted after the priceless Aetherium shipments, occasionally launching suicidal raids on the quarry or ambushing transport convoys.

To combat this, The Ironcrag Quarry had its own military force. Part of it consisted of formal Azure Sky disciples, but the other part was The Stormridge Guard—a militia assembled by Captain Tyrus, handpicked from the Citadel's captive warriors. Tyrus's men were treated like dirt and burdened with the most grueling tasks. They had to fiercely protect their enslaved kin while simultaneously patrolling the perilous perimeter against beasts and raiders.

Midnight.

Timing it perfectly, Kaelen slipped down the mountain and stealthily approached the mining compound.

He had never been here, but Celine's map detailed the compound's layout flawlessly.

On the eastern edge of the quarry sat a lavish, fortified estate. It was the residence of the presiding Elder and the primary vault for the Aetherium shipments. It was heavily garrisoned by at least a hundred Sanctum Initiates and a pack of terrifying Spirit Beasts imported directly from the Sanctum.

Kaelen's target was a small, run-down courtyard adjacent to the lavish estate. According to the map, this was where the remnants of House Stormridge were housed.

Celine had been incredibly meticulous. She had even charted the patrol routes and timing of the guards.

Moving like a ghost, Kaelen infiltrated the compound, bypassed the patrols, and arrived at the designated courtyard.

It was far more squalid than he had imagined. Tiny, cramped hovels cobbled together from rough stone and rotting wood sat in suffocating silence. There were no lights. He didn't know if everyone was asleep or if the place was abandoned.

Kaelen vaulted the low wall and landed in the shadows. Staring at the pitch-black courtyard, a sudden paralysis gripped him.

He remembered the majestic, towering spires of the Citadel Lord's keep. Seeing this decaying prison... the contrast gutted him. He always knew his family was suffering, but standing here, the reality of it felt like a blade to the chest.

Where was his uncle?

Where was his aunt?

Was his sister here?

Should he wake them? Kaelen's fists clenched, relaxed, and clenched again.

Suddenly, the rapid crunch of boots echoed from outside. Someone was approaching.

"They're back?" Kaelen hurriedly smoothed his robes, forcing his breathing to steady, and plastered a smile onto his face.

CRASH! The courtyard gates were kicked open. A squad of men holding torches stormed in.

"Elara Stormridge! Elara! Get out here!"

"Sleeping before midnight? You lazy wretches!"

The young girl was Kaelen's younger sister, Elara Stormridge! She was two years younger than Kaelen, having blossomed into a graceful, elegant young woman. But the brutal labor had left her complexion dull and her spirit drained.

She was led into the sprawling, opulent estate next door. She unconsciously curled her hands into tight fists inside her sleeves, her eyes darting around with intense hyper-vigilance.

Deep within the estate, in a grand, lavishly decorated pavilion, a scene of absolute decadence unfolded.

The crisp, melodic strumming of a lute filled the air.

A troupe of dancers twirled gracefully, their movements alluring and light as air.

Every single woman was dressed provocatively in sheer white silks, draped with thin crimson veils that left almost nothing to the imagination.

The pavilion was packed with Azure Sky Initiates, their eyes locked onto the women with undisguised lust.

Though the women danced like willow branches in the wind, their faces were entirely hollow, their eyes dead and exhausted.

At the head of the pavilion sat a massive, cushioned divan. A youth, barely twenty years old, sprawled across it, holding a delicately forged decanter of wine. He swayed drunkenly. Several beautiful young girls knelt beside him, fanning him with peacock feathers and massaging his legs as he bathed in his own absolute authority.

"Young Lord, Elara is here." The guards brought her forward, their eyes immediately snapping toward the swaying dancers.

"Little Elara! Go wash up and change into something nice." The youth giggled, beckoning her with a finger.

"Why did you summon me?" Elara felt violently sick every time she saw this pavilion. These dancers were once proud handmaidens of House Stormridge. Now they were reduced to performing shameful acts for their captors.

"Why? Listen to you. You are a servant of this estate, and I am its master. I call, you come. I command, you obey."

"Lysander Malakor, the people of House Stormridge are indentured workers of the quarry, not your personal slaves."

"Take your complaints to the Grand Elder. Barking at me won't change a damn thing. I don't care what crime your House committed, and I don't care what noble titles you used to hold. All I know is... you belong to me now." Lysander stumbled to his feet, swaying as he walked toward Elara. The girl deliberately made herself look plain and unkempt, but he wasn't stupid. He could tell she was a rare beauty in the making. And... heh... she was just starting to mature.

He had a taste for the unripe ones.

"What are you doing?" The women playing the lute and dancing instantly stopped, rushing over to form a human shield in front of their young miss.