At the centre of the gathering, several large chairs, carved from stone and polished wood, were already arranged in a half-circle, each one designed to convey status and power.
The lesser lords moved hurriedly, straightening themselves and taking their places with pride, their earlier excitement now replaced with stiff respect.
One chair, however… stood out from the others.
It was bigger than the rest.
Forged from raw silver that gleamed even under the firelight, its surface rough yet majestic, shaped like something that had not been crafted… but conquered.
It sat higher than the others, yet it was empty and still impossible to ignore.
Nicholas stepped forward as the faint scent of blood and battle followed him like a shadow.
His sharp eyes swept across the gathered lords… then stopped on that chair.
He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, something dark flickering across his face.
“Still empty,” he muttered.
Around him, the lower rank lords immediately stood to their feet, bowing deeply the moment he approached, their heads lowered in absolute respect.
None of them dared to meet his eyes directly.
“Welcome back, War Lord!” voices echoed one after another, filled with reverence.
Before the moment could settle, another presence stepped forward boldly, breaking through the formality without hesitation.
Lord Zenobius.
His long dark hair and robe flowed behind him, his fox ears standing proudly as his sharp gaze met Nicholas without fear.
Unlike the others, he didn’t bow.
Their hands met firmly, a powerful grip, the kind that wasn’t just a greeting but a silent clash of strength.
The air around them seemed to tighten, the pressure rising as both men held their ground without yielding.
Then Zenobius laughed, breaking the tension like it was nothing.
“Still alive and still terrifying,” he said with satisfaction, his grip finally loosening.
“You’ve outdone yourself again, Nicholas. The battlefield must be crying after losing so many bodies to you.”
Nicholas rolled his eyes, but he acknowledged the praise.
“It was nothing worth mentioning,” he replied nonchalantly.
Zenobius raised a brow with amusement.
“Nothing?” he repeated.
“You return with half the enemy wiped out and call it nothing… well, you never change.”
Around them, the gathered beasts listened quietly to their conversation, some stealing glances, others too afraid to even lift their heads.
The she-wolf in the distance clutched her chest, lost in the scene.
“This is insane…” she whispered “They don’t even feel real”
The other lords remained standing until he took his place, it was a rule none of them dared to break.
But even as he sat, his gaze flicked once more to the empty silver chair.
And this time, his expression darkened just a little more.
“Still not here…” he muttered in frustration.
Zenobius followed his gaze and gave him a knowing smile.
“Be careful,” he said lightly, though his eyes held meaning.
“You know him so well…..”
Nicholas chuckled as his gaze lingered on the empty silver chair, as it had personally insulted him, even without anyone sitting on it, that empty chair still felt occupied.
“So I’m not worthy of the prime lord’s presence?” he finally spoke.
“Who was supposed to go to the war? We all knew the bad spirit we are fighting was his….?”
A few of the lower lords stiffened immediately, their heads dropping even lower as if they could disappear into the ground.
He just mentioned THE PRIME LORD!
Lord Zenobius let out a deep breath.
“You are the War Lord,” he replied, he understood what was happening.
“And it is your duty. The Prime Lord only steps in when things go beyond control. You already know that.”
Nicholas let out a dry laugh, but there was no humour in it, ” But we all know this war is no longer simple,” he said, his voice rising just a fraction.
“It’s getting more dangerous with every battle… but you know there’s no way we can kill this person by ourselves with his annoying witchy abilities and the one behind it…” He stopped again and clenched his jaw as if he had already said too much.
“Nicholas!” someone snapped.
Alpha Damon shook his head, his golden eyes narrowing as they locked onto the War Lord with warning.
“I expect more discipline from you,” Damon said.
The authority in his tone wasn’t hidden.
“No one questions the Prime Lord. You know that.”
The tension between them thickened immediately, heavy and suffocating, like two storms refusing to back down.
Nicholas’ lips curved into something that almost looked like a smirk, but his eyes remained cold.
“But we are sharing a mate,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just thrown a spark into dry grass.
Damon froze.
“What is he saying?” Damon asked in disbelief.
The fox lord sighed, dragging a hand down his face like a man already tired of a problem that hadn’t even started yet.
“Let us celebrate first,” he said, forcing a calm that didn’t even reach his eyes.
“We will discuss such matters later.”
Nicholas scoffed, unsatisfied.
“But you know how he is,” he added.
“That man is insane and his pride is worse than his power.”
A soft hiss cut through them.
“Family matters should be discussed at home,” a smooth voice said.
A female snake lord sat gracefully not too far from them, her long dark hair falling over one shoulder, her slit pupils glinting under the firelight as she watched them in annoyance.
Her presence was calm, yet commanding, the kind that didn’t need to raise its voice to be heard.
Her rank already spoke for her.
Higher than Zenobius.
Higher than most seated.
The moment she spoke, the surrounding lords straightened instinctively, nodding in agreement without a second thought.
“Yes… Lord Sofia is right”
“It is not something to discuss openly…”
“Not here…”
Voices murmured in support.
Zenobius simply exhaled and gave a slight nod, accepting her words without resistance.
Damon’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, though the look in his eyes made it clear the matter was far from over.
Nicholas leaned back in his chair again, one arm resting lazily on the armrest, but the tension in his body hadn’t left.
“Let the celebration continue” Sofia said coldly as she raised her hand.
The celebration resumed immediately.
The fire crackled louder.
The drums began again.
Sofia glanced at the silver chair and smirked ” he’s always mysterious…
Jethro…” Then a huge python rose from her back.
“Yes, my queen ”
” Where is the prime lord this time?”