Chapter 230: MORNING IN IRON HEARTH

​Rianor Sudrath woke up only when the clock hands were already pointing at ten.

​It was the most extraordinary thing that had happened to him in months—not the feat of taking down a giant Golem or discovering a lost city, but simply sleeping. A deep, sound sleep, free from the intrusion of nightmares about hissing neck valves or the bloodthirsty red glare of a Juggernaut. Gulp. He swallowed; his throat felt dry and stiff.

​The sun was already high when he opened his eyes. Golden light pierced through the gaps in the curtains, creating dancing dust motes above the wooden floor. Beside him, Elara was already awake. She sat leaning against the headboard with a small notebook in her lap—the one that never left her hand. Sret... sret... the rhythmic scratching of a quill against paper filled the room.

​"Hmm, you’re still here," Rianor murmured. His voice was raspy, typical of someone who had just been forcefully pulled from the realm of dreams.

​"Well, I can’t go anywhere without your help, you know." Elara glanced at her wheelchair, parked silently beside the bed. "Besides, you were sleeping like a corpse. I’ve already finished two Chapters since I woke up."

​Rianor rubbed his eyes and then wiped his face roughly. "What time is it?"

​"Ten."

​"In the morning?"

​"Of course, it’s morning. When else would it be?" Elara chuckled softly.

​Rianor groaned, dropping his head back onto the soft pillow. "Tsk, I never wake up this late."

​"That’s because usually, you don’t sleep at all, Rianor." Elara closed her book with a soft thud. "I’m glad you’re finally resting. But... hmm, my stomach is starting to protest. And I can’t reach the kitchen on my own."

​Hearing that, Rianor immediately sat up. His sleepiness evaporated instantly.

​Breakfast at Castle Iron Hearth was no longer a formal affair with rows of stiff servants. They had endured too much blood and crisis; now, breakfast was the only moment to ensure that everyone was still breathing. The room was noisy, messy, and filled with the aroma of Aurelia’s chicken porridge, which wafted into every corner.

​As Rianor pushed Elara’s wheelchair inside, the atmosphere was already lively. Clink! The sound of spoons clashing against plates echoed everywhere.

​"OOH, THE CHAMPION IS FINALLY AWAKE!" Riven’s voice boomed, nearly making the flower vase on the table vibrate. He was busy finishing his second plate. "I thought you’d be hibernating until next winter."

​"I was tired. Besides, it’s always winter here anyway," Rianor replied flatly. He pulled out a chair, placing Elara in her favorite spot before sitting down beside her.

​"Tired? You were sleeping like a log. I’ve already had two hours of sword practice, Raphael has run five laps, and Kaelven has even learned a new word today."

​"Pi-piss!" Kaelven shouted from his high chair, waving a wooden spoon covered in porridge residue in the air.

​"Hey, that’s not a polite word, darling," Elena chided, deftly wiping her son’s chin.

​"Daddy taught me!" Kaelven pointed at Riven with an innocent face.

​Instantly, all eyes turned to Riven. The great General feared by enemies suddenly choked on his porridge. Cough!

​"That... hmm, that’s a functional word in many emergency contexts," Riven defended himself, looking away.

​Aurelia emerged from the kitchen carrying extra bowls. She placed them in front of Rianor and Elara, then kissed the top of her son’s head gently. "I’m glad you came home in one piece. Don’t go crawling into any more dark holes anytime soon, alright?"

​"I can’t promise that, Mother."

​"Hah, I figured as much." Aurelia gave a thin smile—the resigned smile of a soldier’s mother. "At least finish your porridge while it’s warm."

​Rumina sat at the end of the table, busy with her ledger. But this morning, her fingers only tapped the table restlessly. Rianor knew exactly what was behind his sister’s brow.

​"How much?" Rianor asked suddenly.

​Rumina looked up, her tired eyes meeting Rianor’s. "What?"

​"The cost of the expedition. You’ve surely finished calculating it, haven’t you?"

​Rumina let out a long sigh—the kind that indicated the kingdom’s coffers were dying. "I don’t want to ruin the mood this morning with those cursed numbers."

​"So, it’s big?"

​"I said I don’t want to ruin the mood, Brother."

​"So it’s so big that you want to cry?"

​Rumina just stared at her brother with a sharp, flat expression. "You’re lucky I still love you."

​Rianor almost smiled. Almost.

​After the breakfast clamor subsided, Rianor took Elara to the east balcony. The midday sun bathed the city of Iron Hearth in an honest warmth. In the distance, puffs of smoke from factory chimneys looked like drifting white cotton, accompanied by the faint sound of train whistles.

​"You haven’t told me much about what happened down there," Elara broke the silence.

​"You’ve read my report."

​"That was stiff writing for the archives. I want to hear the story from your mouth."

​Rianor fell silent, his eyes fixed on the distance, but his mind returned to the depths of The Vault. He leaned back against the balcony railing.

​"There was a man named Elias. He was the first volunteer for Project Legion. He entered that machine without coercion, knowing his body would never come out again." Rianor paused, his hand clenching the iron railing. "He told me about the betrayal, Elara. About how the world attacked them just as they had finished saving everyone from Satan."

​Elara listened, her fingers clutching the fabric of her dress.

​"And Orion... the greatest pilot who ever lived. He waited in slumber for thousands of years inside Legion Prime. Only to wake up and realize that everyone he defended had repaid him with a massacre." Rianor swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly. "He cried inside that cockpit. Not because he feared death, but because of the pain of being betrayed by the people he loved."

​Elara reached for Rianor’s hand, squeezing it tightly. "What did you say to him before he left?"

​"I told him his struggle wasn’t in vain. I promised that his name wouldn’t be buried in the dust."

​"And he believed you?"

​Rianor looked deep into his wife’s eyes. "He died with a small smile. I think that was enough."

​Silence fell once more, accompanied by the scent of damp earth and Snow Seruni flowers beginning to sprout from the ground.

​"They won’t be forgotten, Rianor. You will make sure of it," Elara whispered.

​"I promise. To them, and to myself."

​Elara squeezed her husband’s hand tighter. "In that case, tomorrow is the first step."

​Rianor turned, one eyebrow raised. "Tomorrow?"

​"Tomorrow is the inauguration of our school," Elara continued, her eyes sparkling with a new resolve. "I will stand before those children—those who might not know what math, science, machines, or even magic are. I will teach them not just how to read, but about who we are, and about the history the world tried to erase."

​"You’ll be an incredible headmistress."

​"Heh, I’ve never even stood in front of a class. I don’t know if they’ll even want to listen to me."

​"They will listen to you."

​"Why are you so sure?"

​"Because I’m always right," Rianor replied shortly.

​Elara gave a soft laugh, a sound that rang melodiously amidst the rustling wind. "You aren’t always right, Mr. Sudrath."

​"Hmm, for this one, I am."

​Night fell. Rianor sat in his study, staring at the stack of system logs and ancient maps that would become the new foundation of Northreach. The sound of wheelchair wheels on the floor told him Elara had arrived.

​Raveena pushed the wheelchair in. "Brother Rianor, I’m entrusting my Sister-in-Law to you. Don’t let her stay up late; she has to be at school before the sun comes up tomorrow."

​"Understood," Rianor replied briefly.

​After Raveena left, Rianor pushed Elara toward the open window. The lights of Iron Hearth city twinkled below, rivaling the stars in the sky.

​"I’m nervous," Elara admitted suddenly.

​"I know."

​"And you’re going to tell me I’ll be fine?"

​"Because that’s the reality."

​Rianor knelt beside her wheelchair, looking at Elara’s face closely. "You’ve faced mages who looked down on you, you’ve faced your stubborn mother, and you remain standing even though your legs cannot move. You are stronger than you realize."

​"I’m sitting, Rianor. Not standing."

​"Hah, you know what I mean."

​Elara smiled sincerely. "Yes, I know."

​"Tomorrow, those children will see you—a woman who lost everything yet is still capable of building a new world. They will think: ’If she can do it, so can I.’"

​Elara stared at the silhouette of the Seruni School in the distance. Banners still rolled up, waiting for dawn. "I’m ready," she whispered. "I’ve been ready for a long time."

​Rianor held his wife’s hand. They both fell silent, watching the city continue to pulse. Tomorrow was a new day, a new Chapter where old history would begin to be rewritten. And they would face it together.