Blood of the War Dragon

Chapter 9: The Draven Family

Kael Draven muttered a curse under his breath.

One tiny slip. Just one. After a hundred careful precautions, he’d forgotten to stash the gold card. Stupid. Anyone halfway sensible would know it was nonsense to think Blackie had nothing on him—not even a gold card. Not possible.

Still, Kael Draven wasn’t about to confess.

He plastered on that hurt, bewildered look. “Grandfather, I honestly don’t know what happened. What gold card? What Innate Beast Pill?”

The words landed like a stone in a quiet pond. “Innate Beast Pill.” Lord Veyne didn’t even have to shout. No one needed to ask twice. The whole room went cold. Everyone there knew what that little phrase meant.

Only Innate Spirit Beasts could form one. One pill could be worth more than a lifetime of coins or titles. People are killed over less. I mean, it’s like fighting over the last legendary relic in a tavern—except worse, because this actually changes lives. Innate warriors would tear each other apart for one.

Kael Draven kept that innocent face, but nobody bought it. Not with Blackie dead and Kael Draven the only one present when it happened. That fact alone wrapped him in suspicion like a too-tight cloak. And this wasn’t some trinket you misplaced—this was a Beast Pill. The three great families weren’t exactly into blind trust.

Aria Stormveil rolled her eyes and snapped at the crowd. “You heard him. He says he doesn’t know. Believe it if you want.”

She said it with that cocky, I-don’t-care swagger of hers. Even in front of the heads of the four houses. No wonder people called her the Domineering Maiden. Her backing of Kael Draven made everyone’s nerves fray a little more.

Kael Draven watched her stand there, right beside him, fierce and protective. He felt grateful. Embarrassed, too. This marriage—this whole engagement—wasn’t his idea. His father, Kaelen Draven, had arranged it out of fear for the future. Kael Draven had never signed up for any of this.

Ten years earlier, he’d tried to break through to the Seventh Heaven of Inner Strength. Failed during the condensation cycle. His cultivation collapsed back to the Third Heaven. No remedy the family tried could fix it. A once-bright talent looked ruined. You can imagine how people looked at him after that. Not kindly.

Kaelen Draven, terrified that his only son would be bullied after his death, struck a marriage deal with the Stormveils. At first, the Stormveils refused every proposal. Finally, they agreed, for two reasons: Aria Stormveil had liked Kael Draven since they were kids—she’d always been stubborn, and few could say no to her—and though she had talent and strength to spare, she didn’t have the looks or figure most families coveted. In short: a practical match.

Kael Draven liked his fiancée well enough. But marry her? Bind a woman like that to his home? No, thanks. He wasn’t into domineering wives.

“Aria, step back. This isn’t your place,” Halvor Stormveil said, his tone hard as flint. He was head of the Stormveil family, and his face had gone tight. This wasn’t something he could shrug off. A Beast Pill tied to Blackie’s death could explode into a disaster—he knew that better than anyone.

“Grandfather,” Aria Stormveil snapped back, “question him all you want, but don’t force or insult him. I’ll say it straight: anyone who lays a finger on my fiancé—I will destroy them.”

Fierce? Absolutely. Over the top? Maybe. But the stakes were high, so she sounded less ridiculous than she might have otherwise.

Nobody took her threats literally. Thalos Duskbane stepped forward, voice heavy. “Brother Draven, you know as well as I do what an Innate Beast Pill means. If we catch someone and lose the pill, all four families are in serious trouble.”

“Brother Thalos’s right. I’ve got confirmation—the pill on Blackie came from the Sixth-Rank Draven family of Veyrath City.”

When that name dropped, it felt like someone had slammed a door. The Dravens in the room stiffened—Ardyn Draven most of all. They knew exactly what Sixth-Rank meant.

The Draven family wasn’t small potatoes. One of the largest powers on the Eryndor Continent. They had nine ranks—First is the top, Ninth is the bottom. Rumor said that hitting Third Rank might let a family into Dragon Valley, bond with a dragon, and become Dragon Warriors. It’s a strict, secretive ladder. Even producing a single Innate Martial Artist could lift a branch to Eighth Rank. The rules for the Seventh and Sixth? Those were whispered things—you didn’t learn them unless you were high enough to matter.

But this was simple: a Sixth-Rank Draven family was lethal. One Innate warrior from that tier could wipe a whole branch out. Emberfall Town’s Dravens and Veyrath City’s Dravens were related, sure—but to the Sixth-Rank, Emberfall’s line was basically dirt. If Veyrath’s Sixth decided to weigh in, the other three families in Emberfall would be gone. The Emberfall Dravens would be standing alone—if anyone survived the fallout.

“Kael” Ardyn Draven said finally, his voice thin, “I’ll ask you again—did you see an Innate Beast Pill on Blackie?”

Kael Draven knew what the Sixth-Rank implied. He also knew coughing up the pill now would only make things worse. So he kept up that blank, helpless act. “Grandfather, I already said—I never saw any gold card or Beast Pill. For someone like me, it’s useless. Why would I want it?”

“Gentlemen,” Ardyn Draven said, lifting a hand to cut off more questions, “Veyrath City ordered us to intercept Blackie at all costs. Kill him if necessary—but secure the Beast Pill. The problem: there was no pill on Blackie. Two options in my head: someone gravely wounded him and took it, or Blackie hid it himself. Which is it?”

“That’s a reasonable take,” one elder admitted. “It’s the only thing we can tell Veyrath City. But a single Innate Beast Pill—this isn’t small beans. I don’t think the Sixth-Rank will let this slide.”

“Don’t jump to panic just yet,” another voice said, trying to calm things. “After all, Veyrath’s Dravens and Brother Draven’s branch are kin. I can’t see them acting wildly over a lost pill.”

Still. The room buzzed with a kind of cold dread. A single lost object—born of dragon-spirit and fate—might unbalance houses, topple alliances. Outside, the wind hinted at a coming storm. Inside, everyone braced for it.