From Deadbeat noble to Top Rank Swordsman
Chapter 70: The Fifth Seal Breaks

Chapter 70: The Fifth Seal Breaks

The fire had not died by dawn. It burned cold and blue in the heart of Caer Durell’s high chamber, casting long shadows over the scribes who now worked in rotating shifts, copying every word spoken through the night. Edicts, oaths, declarations—all sealed under watch of the Circle’s surviving seven. Five had signed the decree. Two had withheld. One seat remained empty. Leon had not slept. None of the marchers had. By the outer ramparts, the wind brought news quicker than birds. Villages to the east had gone silent. Tower lights snuffed. Beacons unlit. Fortress Vaelen had not just been taken—it had been unmade. Kellen stood beside the Watchfire, his eyes red-rimmed, not from exhaustion but fury. "Three provinces in two nights," he muttered. "And not a blade lifted." "It wasn’t conquest," Elaine said from behind him. "It was surrender. Willed. Or bought." Leon joined them. "Either way, it’s bloodless. And that’s worse. They’re not fighting us. They’re changing the script." "Rewriting the story before we tell it," Elaine nodded grimly. "Classic Council tactic." From below, horns blared—not the signal of attack, but of arrival. The marchers. The remaining riders of the Truthmarch, who had waited beyond the threshold, had now been summoned. Forty-one came in, led by the wardens. They entered Caer Durell without ceremony, eyes hard, expressions unreadable. The youngest among them—Harren, a scout barely twenty, whispered as they passed the courtyard stones, "This doesn’t feel like the end of something." Leon turned at that. "It’s not," he said. "It’s the second beginning." At midday, a sealed missive was hand-delivered to the Inner Circle by an envoy bearing no crest. The envelope was black. Elaine broke the seal. Inside was no parchment. Just a strip of white silk, stained with a single inked sigil: a broken ring, jagged in the middle. Leon stared at it. "The Fifth." Kellen’s breath caught. "He’s invoking it." Elaine frowned. "That can’t be. The Fifth Oath was never restored." "That’s the point," Leon said. "He’s claiming there’s nothing left to break." He looked toward the tower stairs. The Witness was already descending. Her robes drifted behind her like drifting ash. The silence around her bent the air. When she reached them, she said nothing. She only looked at the silk. And nodded once. "Then the seal is broken," she said softly. "And the world will remember how ruin begins." High above the stronghold, clouds churned grey. And beneath them, in every province Virell had touched, torches lit—not as beacons of warning, but as symbols of allegiance. The Fifth Oathbreaking had begun again. Leon stood beneath the high arches of the tower long after the Witness had left. The strip of white silk still lay on the table, curling at its edges like it didn’t want to be touched. A broken ring. Inked in defiance, not warning. No parchment, no preamble—just a symbol. One the world hadn’t seen in sixty years. Kellen moved to the window, watching the torchlines flicker faintly in the eastern horizon. "We were too slow," he said. "No," Elaine replied, her voice low. "We were fast. But he moved faster than the truth could reach." Leon didn’t speak. He was staring past the silk, past the firelight and stone, into memory. The last time the Fifth was invoked, it had torn through cities like a sickness. Not war.

Collapse.

Loyalists vanished.

Trade lines twisted.

Faith bled from temples as if cut from the walls. People didn’t die in the thousands—they lost reason, clarity, meaning. He remembered that too well. "We need the maps," he said suddenly. "And the names of the commanders who surrendered." Elaine was already moving. "I’ll bring the tactician’s logs." Kellen stayed where he was. "There’s another problem." Leon turned. "Two of the silent seats," Kellen said. "They left Caer Durell before sunrise. One headed west. One... south. We don’t know who sent for them." Leon’s jaw tightened. "Were they followed?" "Not closely enough. We didn’t want to tip our hand. If they’re defecting—" "They’re not defecting," Leon cut in. "Not yet. But they’re listening to someone who is." He strode for the hall, footsteps echoing sharp through the chamber. "Get the scouts ready. I want riders shadowing every council courier within fifty leagues. No crests, no banners. Just eyes." Kellen followed. "That’s not going to be enough." "I know." Down in the scribe vaults, the bell rang once. It was not the record bell. It was the breach. Elaine reappeared at the stairwell, a rolled map under one arm. "Northern gate," she said, breath clipped. "One man. Alone. Refused inspection." Leon didn’t wait. He reached the northern corridor just as the outer gate guards backed off, swords half-raised. The figure approaching wore a dark red mantle over chainmail. He bore no insignia, but every step he took radiated calm. Controlled, methodical. He carried no weapon visible. Until he raised his hand. And showed a ring. Not Leon’s. Not the Witness’s. This one bore the same broken sigil from the silk. But carved, not inked. Forged into black iron. Leon’s breath left him in a short exhale. "He sent a herald."

The man stopped five paces from the arch. "Leon the Ashblade. Elaine of the Circle Left. Kellen of the Twin Orders." His voice was clear and cool, almost ceremonial. "I bring no blade. Only a message." Kellen scoffed. "You wear the Fifth. That is blade enough." The herald did not react. "The Accord has spoken. But it was not heard. Tobias Virell bids you listen." Leon took a step closer. "Then speak." The herald unrolled a narrow scroll from within his mantle. He read without flourish "Caer Durell stands on borrowed time. The fire you lit has no wind to carry it. We do not challenge your truth. We simply choose to write our own." He looked up. "Withdraw. Leave the oaths buried. And no blood shall be shed." Leon studied him, his voice low and sharp. "And if we don’t?" The herald bowed his head. "Then the Circle will drown in silence. And the world will learn to forget again." He turned to leave. But before he passed through the outer gate, Leon called out. "Wait." The man stopped.

Leon spoke clearly, for all to hear. "Tell Tobias, the last time he broke the world, we buried him. This time, we won’t leave a shallow grave" The herald didn’t turn back. But Leon saw the slight tightening of his shoulders. And then he vanished into the snow. Elaine stepped beside him. "The map. You’ll want to see it." Leon didn’t look away from the empty gate. "Mark every province that stayed quiet. Those are the ones he already owns." Kellen crossed his arms. "And the ones that made noise?" Leon’s hand brushed the pommel of his blade. "Those are the ones we save." Got it.

—

Elaine’s voice broke the moment.

"We need to move."

Leon nodded once. "Pull the riders. Double the scouts to the northern range. No torches."

Kellen turned. "What about the gate? We can’t leave it unguarded."

"We won’t," Leon said. "But no standard patrols. Rotate Watch through the lower tunnels. If they send another herald, I want him seen before he sees us."

Behind them, the map unrolled fully on the war table, provinces inked in delicate quill lines. Red markers dotted the eastern edge, places gone dark. Blue signets held the Accord’s last known posts. But something new now marked the map’s spine—black rings, freshly drawn, with no borders and no names. One lay directly atop Vaelen. Another on Breya’s Ridge. A third hovered just south of the old Halin Crest.

Leon stared at them.

"They’re not taking capitals," Elaine murmured. "They’re taking small cities."

"Trade routes," Kellen added. "Supply flow. Messages. They’re carving around the heart, letting it beat blind."

Leon drew a small X just above the third ring. "Here. This is where he’ll bait us."

Kellen frowned. "Halin’s Watch? That’s nothing but an old outpost. Abandoned."

"Exactly," Leon said. "Which means no reason to defend it. And if we don’t... they’ll say we let it fall."

Elaine narrowed her gaze. "You think he wants us to show force."

Leon’s tone was flat. "No. He wants us to hesitate."

The fire behind them dimmed, as if responding to the weight in the room.

From the rear passage, a scribe entered, carrying a slate.

Leon raised a hand. "Speak."

The boy, no older than sixteen, bowed quickly. "Message from the outer range. From a bonded falcon. The script was burnt but legible."

He passed it forward. Elaine read aloud:

"A girl walks west with ash in her hair. The thorns bloom behind her. The ring is not hers, but it answers still."

Silence.

Elaine blinked. "That’s... not a code."

Kellen looked between them. "Another herald?"

Leon didn’t respond immediately.

He reached into his coat and drew a pendant from beneath the collar. A small, blackened crest—once gilded, now dulled with age. The same thorned insignia that hung in his father’s old study. The emblem of House Thorne.

"She’s alive," he said quietly.

Kellen blinked. "Who?"

Leon clenched the pendant.

"Isabel."

Elaine’s eyes widened. "Isabel? She was—Leon, she was thought dead. Last report placed her at the fall of Sennhal."

"She survived," Leon said. "And she’s moving west."

Kellen paced. "If that message is real, and someone saw her, then Virell will be watching her too."

Leon’s gaze was steel. "Then we reach her first."

Elaine stepped forward. "Leon—if we move a unit west, we open our center."

"I don’t care."

He stared at the map again.

"She’s the last unbroken sigil left in the old bloodline. If she’s walking openly, then she’s calling me."

Kellen looked toward Elaine. "And if it’s a trap?"

Leon answered before she could.

"Then I walk into it."

Behind them, the blue fire flared again—brief, sharp, as if in warning.

Leon didn’t flinch.

"She was with me when it broke," he said. "She watched our house fall. If she’s calling now... then this war hasn’t seen its sharpest blade yet."

He looked up.

"And it still remembers its name."

—

Elaine stepped closer to the map, her eyes narrowing on the old road snaking west of Halin’s Watch. "That route’s exposed," she muttered. "If Isabel’s taking it, she’s either desperate... or making herself seen on purpose."

Leon nodded. "She knows what she’s doing. She always did."

Kellen leaned over the table, tapping two points on the road. "There’s an old sentry pass here. Still under our banner, but underfunded. One of the last left untouched."

Elaine glanced between them. "You want to meet her there."

Leon straightened. "I want to intercept her before they do."

"Then you’ll need a shadow column. Two riders at least. One healer. One runner," Kellen listed quickly.

Leon was already turning. "Pack light. I ride within the hour."

"I’ll pick the riders myself," Elaine said.

Kellen narrowed his eyes. "Leon. If this goes badly—"

"It won’t," he cut in.

But even as he said it, the weight in the air shifted. That eerie stillness that only ever followed when one thread was about to snap.

From below, another bell rang—low and irregular.

The three of them froze.

"Not a breach," Elaine said quickly.

Kellen’s hand went to the hilt at his hip. "Then what?"

A scribe appeared, out of breath, his slate shaking in hand. "It’s from the old Seer’s hold in Greymerrow," he said. "They’ve sent a dream-letter. Through the wellstone. It’s addressed to—" he paused "—Ashblade."

Leon stilled. He hadn’t heard that name spoken aloud in weeks.

He took the slate and read.

"The fire walks with your shadow. The sixth will not hold. There is still blood in the ash."

Kellen stepped beside him. "What does that mean?"

Leon didn’t answer at first. He was still staring at the last line:

"When she kneels, do not rise."

He closed the slate slowly. "They’re not just breaking the Fifth."

Elaine’s voice dropped. "They’re pushing toward the Sixth?"

Leon looked toward the balcony, where the blue fire guttered faintly, like breath.

"No," he said quietly. "They’re daring us to."

And somewhere beneath them, in the old archive halls, a vault seal cracked open for the first time in twenty years. The sound was soft. Almost human.

But it changed everything.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.