It had been a grueling day. Conor and Kerrigan had spent the morning coordinating with their respective teams, setting up makeshift offices in the expansive Lokir estate, and establishing routines that would allow them to manage both Dragon Corporation and Vokrizin from this remote stronghold. They knew they had to maintain their companies' momentum while dealing with the aftermath of recent events, and every moment felt crucial.The afternoon was equally busy with back-to-back calls and briefings, recapping the current state of affairs and strategizing the next steps. For the first time in days, they were catching their breath, although the weight of responsibility hung heavy in the air.As late afternoon settled over the estate, the sun dipped low, casting the grounds in a warm, golden glow. Vehicles began to arrive, the sound of engines breaking the tranquil quiet. Conor and Kerrigan stepped out onto the stone steps of the main entrance, their faces unreadable as they watched the p
Conor and Kerrigan sat side by side at the large wooden table in the grand meeting hall, its surface polished to a shine, reflecting the weight of the day’s work. Despite the beautiful setting, the room was charged with tension and anticipation.Several dragoons had already been interviewed, and most were aging veterans—retired warriors who had served under Priestess Rainna, Conor’s mother, in the years before her tragic death.Their eyes carried the weight of history, and though many were past their prime, they still held a fierce loyalty to Celia and the legacy Rainna had left behind.Most of the dragoons requested roles that would keep them connected to the cause but away from the front lines. Their time as guards was over, but their hearts still burned to be of use.They sought positions within the community center or in similar capacities where they could offer guidance and mentorship. Conor readily welcomed their requests, knowing that their experience would be invaluable in nur
The air was heavy with the day’s events, and both Conor and Kerrigan where tired as they prepared to conduct the last of their interviews.Cathal O’Reilly was called in first. At just 25, she was the youngest of the dragoons they had interviewed so far, but her demeanor spoke of someone who had seen far more than her age suggested.She stepped into the room with an uneasy confidence, her eyes darting between Conor, Kerrigan, and Colonel Eli, finally settling on Reilynn. Her short, dark hair framed a sharp face, and her movements were precise, almost too deliberate, as if she were constantly calculating her surroundings.Cathal took her seat opposite Conor and Kerrigan, her back straight and her gaze unwavering. There was an edge to her questions, a subtle but unmistakable undertone of suspicion.“What exactly happened to Zadok?” Cathal asked, her voice calm but with a tremor of underlying tension. “We’ve heard rumors, but no one seems to have the full story.”Conor met her gaze evenly,
When morning came, the Lokir estate was still abuzz with the new arrivals and the aftermath of Conor’s announcement, but the team was already preparing for their next move.The sun was still low on the eastern horizon as the head-of-state helicopters, sleek and formidable, roared to life on the helipad. Conor, Kerrigan, and their entourage boarded, their expressions a mix of determination and unease.The flight to the Duke of Targu’s estate would be short, but the weight of what awaited them made each minute feel like an eternity.Kerrigan sat near the window, staring out at the lush Targu landscape passing beneath them. Next to her, Conor was quiet, mentally preparing for the inevitable confrontation.Their Dragoons were seated strategically, each one alert despite the deceptively peaceful surroundings. Reilynn and Evelynn exchanged quiet words, their eyes scanning the helicopter cabin as if expecting danger at any moment.Natalie had only just arrived from Dragon Corporation a few h
The Duke’s private study was as imposing as the man himself. The heavy oak desk that dominated the space had its surface cluttered with documents and reports that spoke of the responsibilities he bore as the Duke of Targu.Conor sat across from the Duke, feeling the weight of the man’s scrutiny. The room was silent, save for the faint ticking of an antique clock on the wall. Conor’s heart thudded in his chest, not from fear but from the heavy mix of anticipation and determination.He knew this meeting was a test, one that would determine how the Duke viewed him—not just as the newly declared Deinmaar of Celia, but as a man who now stood at Kerrigan’s side.The Duke’s gaze was piercing, his emotions barely concealed behind his carefully controlled expression. “Conor,” he began, his voice low and measured, “I’ve been eager to speak with you, and I won’t waste time with pleasantries. You made quite the declaration yesterday. Deinmaar of Celia… stepping into the role your mother once held
The grand dining hall of the Duke’s estate was a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the air earlier. The sun streamed through tall, arched windows, casting a warm glow on the intricately carved wood paneling and the long table set for lunch. A row of servants moved about silently, setting down trays of freshly prepared dishes, their movements precise and practiced. The smell of roasted meat, fresh bread, and aromatic herbs filled the room, momentarily lifting the weight that hung over their heads.Kerrigan, seated beside Conor, glanced around the table. Reilynn stood discreetly at her back, her stance relaxed yet alert, while Sorcha, ever the vigilant dragoon, had taken her place behind Conor’s chair. Sorcha’s eyes missed nothing, scanning every entrance, every shadow, as if danger could lurk behind every draped curtain. Parker was present too, keeping to the side, but allowing Sorcha the space she needed to integrate into the team.The Duke of Targu sat at the head of the
Kelan’s stomach twisted as the queen of hearts shimmered on the table, the final card that sealed his fate. Four of a kind—aces, beaten by a straight flush.The Triad leader’s grin stretched wide, smug satisfaction oozing from his every pore as he raked the massive pile of chips toward him. Stacked towers of reds, blues, and golds, the last remnants of Kelan’s pride, vanished in an instant.Kelan tried to keep his face neutral, but panic clawed at his insides, tightening his chest with every breath. He had been so damn sure that he had it.Those aces felt like destiny, a sign that he was back on top. Now, they were nothing but a reminder of his failures—worthless paper like all his broken promises.“Well, that was fun,” the Triad leader drawled, lighting a cigar with a deliberate flick of his gold lighter. He exhaled a cloud of thick smoke, letting it hang lazily in the air, a bitter symbol of Kelan’s defeat.Sergei, the host of tonight’s game, leaned back in his chair, tapping the ta
The early morning sun was just starting to break over the skyline of Velyki, casting a golden hue across the city as Conor and Kerrigan’s convoy rolled to a stop in front of Elena Marchand’s law firm.The building was a stately structure of glass and stone, its entrance flanked by wide steps that now served as the stage for a much-anticipated press briefing.The team had flown through the night, exhaustion etched into the faces of the dragoons and soldiers who fanned out behind Conor and Kerrigan. They stood resolute, their uniforms sharp and their stances ready.Kerrigan and Conor were dressed in their matching outfits—a powerful blend of Celia’s deep ocean blue and Abraxas’s forest green, symbolizing their united front. The duo radiated strength and determination, their presence commanding the attention of every camera and reporter gathered.Provincial troops, provided by the Duke of Targu, formed an additional line of defense, their presence a reminder of the heightened stakes. The