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The door swung open.
Before them stretched a vast, circular hall.
The floor was paved with neatly arranged dark stone tiles, while the walls were built from gray-black bricks, left largely unadorned—giving the space a rugged yet straightforwardly imposing atmosphere.
Along the edges of the hall, thick carpets lay rolled up and stacked in orderly bundles, clearly untouched for a long time.
Near the walls, an ancient wooden staircase ascended.
Following it upward, the second floor revealed no separate rooms—only a suspended circular walkway ringing the interior, its railing allowing spectators to look down into the hall below. Every few steps, ornate chandeliers hung from thick iron chains, their candlelight flickering.
There were few windows, and the stonework leaned heavily into dark hues.
Yet, despite this, the hall felt unexpectedly bright.
The group stepped inside, the beastfolk maids closing the door behind them without following.
Eris crossed her arms, tilting her head as she glanced at Hilda, her eyes rolling slightly in thought.
"This is… what was it called again? A… banquet hall?"
Beside her, Sylphie suddenly tensed, her gaze snapping toward Hilda—who merely smiled at her reaction before answering.
"You still remember, Eris? Your fifth birthday party was held here. Though we haven't used this hall since. Do you recall the dance that night?"
Eris scrunched her face, straining her memory—before nodding firmly.
"Nope! Not at all!"
Hilda chuckled, guiding them toward the center of the hall as she spoke.
"This banquet hall was one of the first structures built after the Boreas estate was established. Though the design seems crude, the stonework was meticulously selected—durable enough to last centuries with only minor repairs. The biggest renovation was adding the second-floor walkway."
"In the days when war still raged, the Boreas ancestors would hold grand feasts here with their generals after every victorious return."
"If there's any building in this estate that embodies the family's pride, it's undoubtedly this one."
"For Eris' fifth birthday, when we hosted all our vassal nobles, there was no more fitting place to hold the celebration."
Their footsteps echoed faintly in the empty space.
Allen scanned the surroundings, his Flow Sense picking up subtle inconsistencies—
The chandeliers suspended by iron chains.
The dark, rugged architecture.
The lack of windows, yet the hall felt unnaturally bright.
The echoes of their steps—far more resonant than they should be.
Then it hit him.
Just as he realized, Hilda stopped walking.
Eris, too, was glancing around—rarely having visited this hall, she found it unfamiliar.
"Mother, didn't you bring us to see the crest? Where is it?"
Hilda turned to face them.
By now, they had reached the very center of the hall.
Her smile remained vivid, her expression radiant—as if bathed in firelight, harmonizing with her crimson hair.
She raised a hand.
Her fingertips caught the faint glow of dusk, limned in gold.
Then she pointed upward.
"Look."
Allen's eyes followed her gesture—toward the "sky."
Not "as if" bathed in firelight.
She was.
And why were the chandeliers hung from chains instead of beams?
Because—
This hall had no beams to begin with.
Above them, stretching high into the vaulted ceiling—
Was a breathtaking expanse of twilight.
A massive stained-glass skylight, its enamel panels dyed in the hues of sunset, shimmered like liquid fire.
The seams between each pane traced the outlines of feathers.
The glass itself became the wings, light dancing across their surfaces.
And between those wings—
A black "heart."
Coarse, unyielding, textured like hammered metal.
Gleaming with an iron sheen.
No—
It was iron.
A single forged slab, shaped into a heart.
The Iron Heart.
The crest of House Boreas.
Looming over them.
Ready to take flight.
Gasps rose around him—Rudeus and Sylphie's awed murmurs, Eris' loud exclamations (unsurprising, given she was the family's heir yet seeing this for the first time).
Hilda laughed, answering their questions.
"It's easy to miss—this hall is rarely used during the day. How much labor went into this? I'm not certain, Rudeus."
"Heh, I had the same reaction when I first saw it. Quite the spectacle, isn't it? Even I didn't notice during my first visit—a nighttime ball. Sauros later brought me here to see it properly."
"Just me and Phillip back then? Yes, Sylphie. Oh? Why the blush?"
"Are there other stained-glass crests like this? Indeed, Ghyslaine. The watchtower Father often gazes from has an identical one at its peak."
Her words flowed past Allen's ears.
He remained still, staring up at the Iron Heart.
His thoughts churned.
"The Boreas territory—eternal upon this land."
An ambitious goal.
Befitting a martial house that carved its place as a founding pillar of the kingdom.
But the unspoken meaning was clear.
This land need not belong to the Asura Kingdom forever—
But it must remain Boreas territory.
The kingdom may rise and fall with the tides of fate.
The Boreas family will endure.
Iron Heart?
It demands a ruler with a will as unyielding as steel.
One who can see that ambition through.
So who among the next generation fits that mold?
Phillip—calculating, cunning, an ideal noble husband, yet one who dreams of the Asuran capital's political theater?
Hardly.
Then James?
Does he possess the iron will to uphold this legacy?
Given his later actions—opposing Sauros' decision to rebuild the territory at all costs—the answer is obvious.
No.
So why does Sauros favor him?
Because in one crucial way, James does align closer to the Iron Heart's ideal.
He is colder.
More self-serving.
More willing to betray.
His ruthlessness in the succession struggle, his attempts to eliminate Allen—
All of it proves one thing.
In a twisted sense—
That is what it means to have a heart of iron.
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 245 on my patreon, go check it out and remember that if we reach the goal of 40 power stones I will publish the next chapter.