Chapter 6: The Kingdom's Power
The Veiled Fox and the Kingdom's Power
Kitsaro sat in silence as the carriage rumbled along the cobbled path leading away from House Vaelthyr's estate. The veiled hat rested in his lap, its silken fabric cool against his fingertips. His mother sat across from him, her golden eyes distant, lost in thought.
The tension of their earlier encounter still lingered in the air. Even at his young age, Kitsaro could sense the weight of it pressing against his skin like an unseen force. He turned his gaze to the window, watching the vast expanse of silver-barked trees blur past, their branches swaying in the winter wind.
After a long moment, he spoke.
"Mother," he said softly. "Who were they?"
Sylvara's fingers, which had been idly tracing patterns along the armrest of the carriage, stilled. She exhaled through her nose, her expression hardening.
"No one of importance," she replied curtly.
Kitsaro studied her carefully. He had long since learned to read between her words.
"That man," he continued. "He looked at me as though he knew me."
Sylvara's grip on the armrest tightened. A flicker of something dark passed through her gaze before she scoffed.
"He should know you," she said, her voice laced with disdain. "He was foolish enough to leave behind something he had a hand in creating."
Kitsaro tilted his head. "Then he was—"
"A stranger," Sylvara interrupted sharply. "That is all he has ever been and all he will ever be."
Kitsaro remained silent, absorbing her words. There was no sadness in her tone, only cold detachment.
"If you ever see that man again," she continued, her gaze piercing, "do not speak to him. Do not acknowledge him. If possible, walk away."
Her lips curled into a smirk, though there was no humor in it. "Let him know what it is like to be invisible. To be treated as insignificant."
Kitsaro watched his mother, his small hands tightening slightly around the fabric of the veil.
"Understood."
Satisfied with his response, Sylvara leaned forward, plucking the hat from his lap. She carefully unfolded the veil attached to it and lowered it over his face.
"This will be your shield," she murmured, adjusting the fabric so that it draped perfectly. "You are still too young to understand, but beauty is a dangerous thing in this world."
She tapped a finger lightly against his chin.
"Mine was enough to set a kingdom ablaze. Yours…" She studied him for a long moment before sighing. "Yours will make men forget reason entirely."
Kitsaro's lips parted slightly. He did not fully grasp the weight of her words, but he understood enough.
"Is it truly so dangerous?" he asked.
Sylvara smiled faintly, but it did not reach her eyes.
"For the weak, perhaps not," she said. "But for those of our blood?" She lifted a single silver strand of his hair between her fingers. "It is both a weapon and a curse."
Kitsaro nodded slowly. "Then I will use it wisely."
Sylvara chuckled, shaking her head. "You sound too much like me already. I fear what kind of man you will become in the years to come."
She reached out and smoothed the veil once more before leaning back against her seat. "Now, tell me, Kitsaro. Do you remember the name of the Great Houses?"
Kitsaro straightened slightly. "Yes."
His mother arched a brow. "Then summarize them for me."
Kitsaro took a moment to organize his thoughts before speaking.
"The Royal Family," he began. "House Vaeloria—the Solar Lion. Their domain is Solara's Bastion, the capital of the kingdom. Their divine beast is Sol'Rahn, the Lion of Dawn, and their bloodline gift is the Blood of Radiance, granting them authority over mortal hearts and light itself."
Sylvara nodded approvingly.
Kitsaro continued. "House Morvaine—the Abyss Serpent. They rule over Nightreach, the cursed lands of perpetual twilight. Their divine beast is Nyxthul, the Abyss Serpent, and their bloodline gift is the Blood of the Void, which grants them mastery over shadows and illusions."
There was a flicker of amusement in Sylvara's expression. "A house of assassins and spies, distrusted by all. Good. Continue."
"House Drakenvyre—the Obsidian Wyrm," Kitsaro said without hesitation. "They control Drakenhold, a land of volcanic ranges and obsidian plains. Their divine beast is Vorrmaug, the Obsidian Wyrm, and their bloodline gift, Blood of the Infernal Wyrm, allows them to control black fire and molten earth."
"They are warlords and smith-kings," Sylvara added. "Their forges are unmatched."
Kitsaro nodded. "House Stormrend—the Azure Leviathan. Their territory, Tidefall, controls the storm-bound coast. Their divine beast, Azareth, the Azure Leviathan, grants them the Blood of the Tidal Sovereign, giving them mastery over water and storms."
"Masters of the sea," Sylvara murmured. "A force that none can challenge upon the waves."
Kitsaro shifted slightly before finishing. "And finally, House Ravencourt—the Ebon Phoenix. Their home, Duskwatch, lies within the Forsaken Spires. Their divine beast, Noctheron, the Ebon Phoenix, grants them the Blood of the Eternal Rebirth, allowing them to wield flames of regeneration and control over death's threshold."
Sylvara hummed in approval. "Not bad for a boy of five."
Kitsaro tilted his head. "And House Vaelthyr?"
His mother's expression turned sharp. "House Vaelthyr—our house. We control the northern territories, an expanse of mountains and hidden valleys. The House's bloodline descends from Vaelzaryn, the Divine White Tiger."
" The Vaelthyr bloodline carries the essence of the storm, granting them dominion over wind and lightning. Their presence exudes the authority of a king among beasts, and the strongest among them may awaken The Celestial Fang, a mythical blade that cleaves fate itself.."
The carriage began to slow, the familiar bustle of the outer city filling the air.
~~~~~
The Carriage they were in stepped into the city streets. Though his mind churned with questions, his face remained calm, his movements deliberate yet unassuming.
The city of Eryndor was alive with motion. Merchant stalls lined the wide streets, their colorful canopies fluttering in the breeze. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meat intermingled with the sharp tang of ink from scribes selling official documents. Amid the bustling crowd, knights clad in the golden insignia of House Vaeloria patrolled, their hands resting lightly on the hilts of their swords.
Yet, despite the liveliness, Kitsaro could feel it—the unspoken tension that settled over the outer city like a shroud. People whispered when they passed the carriage bearing House Vaelthyr's sigil. Some bowed their heads respectfully. Others averted their gazes, as though unwilling to be caught staring for too long.
He absorbed it all in silence before finally turning to Sylvara.
"Mother," he began, his voice carrying just the right amount of innocent curiosity, "if House Vaelthyr carries the blood of the Divine Tiger, then… does that mean I have it as well?"
Sylvara stilled for half a heartbeat—just long enough for Kitsaro to notice. Then, smoothly, she tilted her head in thought, as though carefully considering her response.
"Bloodlines are not so simple," she replied, adjusting the lace of her gloves. "Some are strong enough to manifest in their descendants. Others… fade, buried beneath weaker ancestry."
Kitsaro studied her, noting how she neither confirmed nor denied his inheritance of the Vaelthyr bloodline.
"I see." He lowered his gaze, feigning disappointment. "Then I suppose I must simply wait and see if it awakens."
Sylvara smirked, reaching out to lightly brush her fingers against his covered cheek. "Patience is a virtue, my dear Kitsaro."
Kitsaro only nodded, though his thoughts had already drifted elsewhere.
The moment Sylvara looked away, he turned his attention inward, summoning the interface he had seen before.
A faint, imperceptible shimmer crossed his vision as the translucent screen flickered into existence.
---
[First Threshold Met—Dormant Traits Strengthened]
---
His gaze moved downward.
---
[Bloodline User]
Name: Kitsaro Azreal Vaelthyr
Age: 5
Title: Last Descendant of Vyrath
Bloodline: Blood of Vyrath, The Nine-Tailed Sovereign (Unawakened)
Blood Rank: (Locked)
Tail Progression: (Locked)
Active Path: (Locked)
---
[Bloodline Overview]
Beast Essence: 300
Blood Veins: 3
Blood Purity: (Locked)
Bloodline Name: Blood of Vyrath, The Nine-Tailed Sovereign (Unawakened)
Bloodline Traits: (Locked)
Bloodline Abilities: (Locked)
---
He frowned. Locked.
Everything about his bloodline remained sealed away. He had no idea what traits it carried, what abilities it might grant him. Yet…
His gaze shifted to his attributes.
---
[User Attributes]
Strength (STR): 5
Dexterity (DEX): 4
Constitution (CON): 8
Intelligence (INT): 25 (Strengthened)
Charisma (CHA): 24 (Strengthened)
Willpower (WIL): 18 (Strengthened)
---
A slow breath escaped his lips.
His intelligence, charisma, and willpower—all had increased. He had no physical enhancements, nothing that would give him overwhelming strength or speed. But his mind, his presence, and his resolve… those had been sharpened beyond that of an ordinary child.
He narrowed his eyes.
From what he remembered, bloodline traits were unique to their wielders. They often influenced one's attributes, shaping them in preparation for their eventual awakening.
If his traits were locked, then how had his attributes already increased?
It meant that even in its dormant state, his bloodline was affecting him.
A thought crept into his mind, unbidden yet relentless.
How strong will I become once it fully awakens?
The thought should have unsettled him. Instead, it sent a quiet thrill through his veins.
Kitsaro lowered his hands, dismissing the interface before glancing outside the carriage window.
The grand city stretched before him—a maze of towering spires, bustling marketplaces, and hidden alleys teeming with whispers. Beyond the outer city, the golden walls of Solara's Bastion gleamed under the midday sun, a symbol of the kingdom's unwavering power.
And somewhere within its depths, his destiny waited to unfold.
Sylvara turned to him, breaking the silence. "We will be visiting someone important today, Kitsaro."
He met her gaze through the veil. "Who?"
She smiled, her expression unreadable. "Someone who will help determine the kind of man you will become."
Kitsaro said nothing, only offering a small nod.
He already knew one thing for certain.
No matter what they saw him as—an illegitimate son, a hidden threat, or an insignificant pawn—he would carve his own path forward.
And when the time came…
The world would learn the true weight of his blood.
Sylvara adjusted his veil one final time before smiling.
As the doors opened, Kitsaro stepped into the city, his small form poised with quiet strength.