Chapter 151 - 103 : Year 0 - 4 (2)

Chapter 151: Chapter 103 : Year 0 - 4 (2)

The castle itself housed more than a hundred members of the wider household, family, servants, officials, guards, retainers, craftsmen, and others whose lives had become intertwined with the Veymont name.

Five Viscount families held lands beneath them, along with lesser nobles, knights, merchants, and numerous villages that depended upon the stability of Veymont rule.

None of it existed because the Veymonts had simply accumulated wealth. It had been built over generations, resting on foundations laid long before the current generation ever inherited the family name. For generations, the Veymonts had maintained a reputation that was sometimes more valuable than gold. They were fair lords, and that reputation had become one of the deepest foundations of their house.

They paid their soldiers fairly and kept their roads safe. The villages under their rule were not squeezed for every coin they could produce, allowing farmers and craftsmen to prosper alongside the family. Their castle gates were known for hospitality, and merchants traveling through Veymont lands generally preferred its well-maintained roads to the less orderly routes beyond them. Over time, these habits had become more than simple practices. They were part of what people had come to expect from House Veymont.

The family also had a reputation for remaining close. Internal rivalries and schemes had little place among the Veymonts, who understood that a noble house was more than the person bearing its title. It was a chain of people bound together by blood, service, marriage, loyalty, and shared history, with each generation carrying what the previous one had built. For Count Veymont, that understanding had become personal long before he inherited the title.

His wife, the late Countess, had died giving birth to their first and only child, Lucian. Count Veymont had loved her deeply, and her death left a wound that never truly closed. His father, the previous Count, had urged him to remarry while he was still young, reminding him that House Veymont needed another heir and that he had an entire life ahead of him. But count Veymont had refused. He had loved his wife too dearly to simply replace her, and over the years, the affection he had once given her became concentrated upon the only child she had left behind.

Lucian grew up surrounded by family. His father devoted himself to raising him, while his brother, the Viscount, and the household’s senior retainers all played their part in shaping the young heir. Yet being his father’s only son never meant being allowed to grow up spoiled. Count Veymont gave Lucian affection, but he also gave him discipline. He taught him responsibility, courtesy, restraint, and the importance of treating those beneath his station with fairness. He wanted his son to become a man worthy of carrying the Veymont name, not merely a noble who had inherited it.

As Lucian grew older, the Count gradually turned more of his attention toward the territory itself, strengthening its roads, improving its estates, maintaining its mines, and preserving the position House Veymont had spent generations building. But even as those responsibilities grew, he never stopped taking an interest in the son he had raised.

Lucian grew under that guidance. While other young nobles his age might have spent their early years with little more to concern themselves with than riding, hunting, games, and the pleasures that came with their family’s wealth, Lucian’s upbringing was more deliberate. He trained in martial arts, studied the responsibilities that came with his position, and learned from the people his father had placed around him. The Viscount taught him discipline and martial skill, while the household’s senior retainers taught him the habits expected of a nobleman who would one day command others. Slowly, Lucian began to understand that what he would inherit was more than a title. It was a family, a territory, and the responsibility to preserve what generations before him had built.

Yet there was one matter that remained outside all the ordinary measures of responsibility.

Two weeks after Ethan had fallen into his deep slumber, Lucian finally went below the castle to check on him.

At first, he had seen little reason to do so. A martial artist could survive several days without food, while stronger bodies could endure considerably longer. But Ethan was not merely a martial artist. Lucian still did not understand what he was, and that uncertainty had made it increasingly difficult to simply leave him below the castle without knowing how he was faring.

So he descended.

He passed through the lower passages beneath the castle, moving farther into the section that had once been part of the family’s underground storage and private chambers. Then he felt it.

Pressure.

Lucian slowed, then stopped. The farther he tried to move, the heavier his body became. It was as though an invisible weight had settled over him, pressing down harder with every step. His muscles tightened beneath it, and even drawing breath required more effort. He pushed forward anyway, but after only a few more steps, his legs could no longer carry him onward.

Lucian had felt the force of his father and uncle during training. He knew what it was like to stand close to someone whose physical strength far exceeded his own, to have that difference pressed against him when they trained or tested his limits. This was nothing like that. There was simply too much of it. The pressure surrounding him did not rise or fall with movement. It remained, heavy and absolute, leaving him unable to take another step toward the chamber where Ethan slept.

Lucian eventually retreated. Once he had moved far enough away, the weight gradually eased, and he could breathe normally again. He waited for a while before trying once more, but the result was unchanged. He could not get any closer.

When Lucian finally reported what had happened, Count Veymont went down himself.

As a Force Tempering martial artist, the Count had spent decades refining his body and martial ability. There were few people in the territory who could stand above him, and fewer still whose strength he could not understand. Yet when he reached the same corridor Lucian had been unable to cross, he felt the pressure almost immediately.

He took several steps forward before the weight began to settle over him. His body grew heavier, his breathing deepened, and the pressure continued to increase the farther he went. The Count stopped, not because he was frightened, but because his body simply would not allow him to continue. He had pushed himself to his limit many times throughout his life, but he had never encountered something like this. There was no struggle to overcome, no technique to resist, only an immense pressure filling the passage ahead.

He stood there for a while before finally stepping back.

The Count did not send anyone else down after him.

Whatever lay beyond that point was something the Veymont family did not understand, and there was no reason to sacrifice people simply to satisfy their curiosity. Instead, he ordered the passage leading toward Ethan’s resting place to be sealed and kept as a private secret of House Veymont. Guards were stationed at the approach and given strict instructions that no one was permitted beyond their post without the Count’s direct authorization.

Most of those guards were never told what they were protecting. They were given only the same simple order: the passage beyond them was forbidden.

Lucian was allowed to check on the area from time to time, but even that gradually became unnecessary. The strange pressure never disappeared. As long as it remained, Ethan was still there, and that was enough for the Veymonts to leave him in peace.

The world above continued.

The fields turned green and then gold. The mines sent ore toward the city’s workshops, while merchants passed through the gates with caravans of cloth, grain, metal, and finished goods. Soldiers changed shifts along the walls, young martial artists trained beneath older instructors, and the castle’s kitchens remained busy from dawn until nightfall. Servants crossed its halls carrying food, messages, weapons, clothing, and all the countless necessities of noble life.

The family dealt with the aftermath of the assassination attempt. The baron and his family were eventually captured, brought back to Veymont territory, and dealt with according to the seriousness of their betrayal. Their punishment was made public enough to serve as a warning to every noble under Veymont rule that treachery would not be tolerated. The matter was settled, but the tension between Enwitra and the neighboring Kingdom of Varell continued, with unrest and border disputes still affecting other noble territories throughout the kingdom. Reports continued to arrive, and new matters gradually demanded attention. Roads needed repairs. Mines required new equipment. Disputes arose between villages. Merchants sought permission to establish new routes. Vassals called for soldiers when bandits threatened their lands. Harvests had to be measured, taxes collected, and training maintained.

The territory still had to be governed.

House Veymont had survived another crisis, and with each passing month, the urgency surrounding the sealed passage slowly faded. The people who knew about it did not forget. They simply had other responsibilities to carry, and life had a way of making even strange things feel ordinary when they remained unchanged for long enough.

Then one year became two.

Two became three.

And three became four.

By then, Lucian had long since stopped wondering whether Ethan would awaken the next day. The castle had learned to live around the sealed passage. Guards changed with the seasons. Some eventually left the family’s service and were replaced by younger men who received the same orders without being told what lay beyond them.

Above them, House Veymont continued to live.

Children were born elsewhere in the kingdom. Old men died. Young men became soldiers. Fields were harvested, mines were worked, and caravans crossed the roads. The banners of House Veymont continued to hang above the castle of Veymont.

And deep beneath those banners, untouched by the passing seasons, Ethan remained asleep.

Four years had passed beneath the castle without him opening his eyes.

To the world above, those years had been filled with change.

To Ethan, they were barely Felt.