Chapter 48: Echoes of History
In a candlelit chamber deep within the Ember Circle's main fortress—a repurposed keep once ruled by brigands—Lyrus reviewed old documents with Kael. The scholar-warrior had gathered scraps of lore related to the Golden Serpent Sect. These fragments, gleaned from distant archives and wary informants, painted a picture both impressive and ominous.
Centuries ago, the Golden Serpent Sect maintained power not through raw force, but through webs of intrigue. They smiled in courts, bestowed gifts upon kings, sponsored tournaments, and funded the arts—all the while nurturing secrets and blackmail. Their assassins were elegant and patient, dispatching threats with toxins so subtle their victims died whispering thanks. They preferred victory without open war, poisoning wells of trust instead of fields of battle.
When HellSin had almost unified the land, the Serpents had not met them in glorious confrontation. Instead, they orchestrated that infamous feast, the poison in the wine, the sudden ambush that shattered alliances. They excelled at making enemies destroy themselves. Now, with the Ember Circle rising, would they try old tactics? Or had their methods evolved?
Outside the chamber, Alyra drilled archers. In a nearby yard, Ember Blazes trained squads of Flames and Sparks in new formations. Their skill had grown formidable. They had defeated sects that relied on brute force and terror. But against the Golden Serpents, subtlety might matter more than steel. Lyrus knew his refined control over the Million Steps System could become a decisive factor. Deception met with calm insight, poison answered by cautious diligence.
"Rumor says they have puppet sects, puppet lords," Kael mused, reading from a brittle parchment. "They rarely show their true strength until certain of victory."
Lyrus nodded slowly. The Ember Circle must beware of traps, false negotiations, and whispers planted to sow distrust. Victory would not come from a single grand clash. It would require patience, intelligence, and an unwavering moral compass. His followers must know why they fought—that this was not about conquest, but vindication and ensuring no other clan suffered as HellSin once did.
Candles guttered as Lyrus stood. The history was clear: the Golden Serpents were masters of subtlety, but this time, the Embers would not be caught off guard. The stage was set for a contest of wills, wits, and courage.
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