I Got Reborn Into A Baron's Household

Stood amidst the ruins of Eisenhart, the bitter scent of ash and blood clung to the air, a haunting reminder of the siege that had razed my home to the ground. The once-proud mansion, with its towering spires and elegant facade, was now a hollow skeleton of charred wood and crumbled stone. Desolation stretched as far as my eyes could see—fields once brimming with life were scorched black, and the eerie silence was broken only by the occasional caw of carrion birds circling above.

Galen stood by my side, his expression grave as he silently surveyed the devastation.

My heart clenched as memories of laughter and warmth clashed with the cold emptiness around me. Thoughts of my three little sisters—bright, mischievous, and full of life—gnawed at my resolve. I prayed they were safe. I prayed they were alive.

A faint shift in the atmosphere broke through my thoughts. It was subtle, like a ripple in still water—a presence deliberately making itself known. My hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of Aetherblade as I scanned the wreckage. From the shadows of a crumbled archway, a tall figure stepped forward, his movements purposeful yet restrained.

He allowed me to see him, to hear the faint crunch of debris beneath his boots as he approached. His dark cloak billowed slightly, the fabric swallowing the dim light like the shadows themselves had woven it.

When he stopped, just a few paces away, he pulled back his hood, revealing a face that was both familiar and enigmatic. His sharp, angular features were illuminated by the faint glow of the embers around us, his piercing dark eyes steady and unreadable. A faint scar traced his jawline, a subtle reminder of a life few could comprehend.

"Arnold," I breathed, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over me. "You're alive."

The man before me was more than just the head steward of House Eisenhart. He was a pillar of unwavering loyalty, the one who had overseen every corner of our household with precision and care. Yet beneath the surface lay a past cloaked in secrecy—a man who moved with the grace of a predator, his steps silent, his presence almost ethereal when he chose it to be.

Arnold inclined his head, his expression betraying little, save for the faintest flicker of sorrow in his eyes. His voice, low and deliberate, carried the weight of his words.

"Young master," he said, his voice trembling yet resolute. "I feared the worst. But the gods be praised—you've returned."

He gestured for me to follow, I immediately turned to Galen. "Stay here and keep guard. Make sure no one follows us."

Galen nodded, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Understood, young master. I'll make sure no one disturbs us."

Arnold lead me through the debris-strewn courtyard to a hidden alcove I had never known existed. With a swift movement, Arnold revealed a trapdoor cleverly disguised beneath the rubble. The passage below yawned like the maw of some ancient beast, its darkness cold and unwelcoming.

"This way," he urged, his voice low, wary of unseen ears.

The descent was suffocating. The air grew damp and heavy as we moved deeper, the faint echo of our steps magnified in the narrow confines. At last, the passage opened into a hidden chamber, its walls lined with treasures that gleamed like stars against the darkness.

Arnold turned to me and spoke. "Young master, there is much I must tell you. Your father... he gave me his last order. He left you this."

He reached into his robes and pulled out a pendant—small, unassuming, yet intricately crafted. Its metallic surface seemed to hum faintly with power. "This," Arnold said, pressing it into my palm, "holds your father's final message. The truth of your bloodline lies within."

I activated the pendant, and a flickering hologram sprang to life. My father's image materialized, battered but resolute, his golden-brown hair matted with sweat. His voice, steady and commanding even in its weariness, filled the chamber.

"My son, if you are hearing this, then the worst has come to pass. Listen closely, for this knowledge is your legacy—and your burden. Our family descends from the royal bloodline of Avaloria, a kingdom long erased from history."

The projection shifted, revealing vivid scenes of Avaloria's glory—an awe-inspiring kingdom where magic and power intertwined seamlessly—and its devastating collapse into ruin. My father's voice deepened, heavy with sorrow and gravitas, as he recounted every harrowing detail from the very beginning.

---

In the beginning, there was only the God of Creation, Luminaris, a being of boundless power and infinite creativity. Out of the void, Luminaris forged a world of breathtaking beauty and named it Eryndor. To breathe life into this world, he filled it with mana, an ethereal energy that would form the foundation of all magic and life itself.

But mana was not an infinite resource, so Luminaris devised a system to sustain it. He created plants that could absorb energy from the sun, converting it into mana and releasing it back into the atmosphere. Over time, the world became rich with mana, teeming with vibrant life and endless potential.

Satisfied with his work, Luminaris created creatures to inhabit this world. Among them were humans and magical beasts. However, these beings were fundamentally different:

Humans, later called the Mana-Born, were gifted with immense mana reservoirs but had no means to increase or utilize it. They were physically frail and defenseless against the dangers of the world.

Magical Beasts on the other hand, possessed an extraordinary ability to refine ambient mana into aether, a purer and more potent form of energy. This refinement granted them unparalleled physical and magical strength, allowing them to evolve into formidable creatures with powers like breathing fire, controlling water, and growing armor-like scales to name a few.

The imbalance was stark, and humanity, unable to harness their mana, became easy prey for the magical beasts.

Seeing the suffering of his creations, Luminaris intervened. To empower humanity, he created a divine language, Lunari, the foundation of all magic. Through this language, humans could use their internal mana to conjure spells by shaping the intangible into tangible forms. However, Luminaris imposed a sacred rule: Only incantations spoken in Lunari could activate magic.

With this gift, the Mana-Born became capable of defending themselves against the magical beasts. Balance was restored, and , content with his creation, withdrew into slumber, leaving the world to grow and evolve on its own.

For centuries, humanity thrived, innovating upon the foundation of Lunari. They discovered runes, symbols that could channel mana without the need for spoken incantations. Runes revolutionized the world, enabling magical enchantments on weapons, tools, and even everyday objects.

Amid this era of progress, a unique human was born. This individual possessed the rare ability to absorb aether from slain magical beasts, increasing their mana capacity beyond natural limits. This unprecedented power allowed them to conquer even the mightiest creatures, including a dragon, the apex of magical beasts.

This human founded the nation of Avaloria, a small yet powerful kingdom ruled by their bloodline. The ability to absorb aether was hereditary, making Avaloria a force feared by all. For a time, they prospered in secrecy, but betrayal revealed their gift to the world.

The Holy Empire, branding Avaloria as heretical and accusing its lineage of being beasts in human form, rallied the nations into a crusade. Despite Avaloria's unparalleled warriors, they were vastly outnumbered. In a devastating war, Avaloria was obliterated, erased not only from the land but from history itself.

With Avaloria's destruction, the world entered a fragile peace. Yet humanity's greed reignited conflict. Nations waged war, wielding enchanted artifacts and devastating magic. This global conflict, known as the Rune Wars, led to the near extinction of rune technology. Artifacts became rare relics of a bygone era.

Over time, the Lunari language was forgotten, replaced by countless new tongues. The loss of Lunari marked a decline in magical innovation. Only a few magicians, fluent in the ancient tongue, managed to preserve its spells by transcribing them into newer languages, though much was lost in translation.

Eryndor is now a shadow of its former self. The air still hums with mana, but the knowledge to fully utilize it has waned. Magical beasts roam freely, while humanity struggles to reclaim its lost glory. The stories of Avaloria and Lunari are whispered as legends, their truths buried beneath centuries of war and chaos.

---

"Our bloodline carries the Gift of Aether, the ability to absorb the life force of magical beasts. It is both our strength and our curse. The Holy Empire has hunted our kind for centuries, fearing the power we wield. That is why they came for us. That is why I fought—to buy you time, Draven, to grow strong and awaken the power within you."

The image faded, leaving the chamber in a deafening silence. My grip on the pendant tightened as Arnold stepped forward, his voice grave.

"Your father sacrificed himself for this moment. He believed in you, young master. He believed you would rise to reclaim what was lost."

The weight of my heritage pressed down on me, but so too did a simmering resolve. I straightened, meeting Arnold's gaze with newfound determination.

"I will not let my father's sacrifice be in vain," I said, my voice firm despite the turmoil within. "I wanted to know what happened to my sisters." I asked.

Arnold bowed his head, his face full of sorrow. His grave expression was clouded by a mix of regret and guilt.

He hesitated, swallowing hard before continuing. "Your father fought until his last breath. Even after annihilating nearly half of Count Aumale's troops, he had no choice but to surrender."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "Surrender? My father…?"

I was already aware of this information, but hearing it again from Arnold rekindled my anger.

Arnold's voice cracked, but he pressed on. "He offered his surrender on one condition—that his family be spared. Baron Eisenhart was a proud man, but for you, for your sisters, he knelt before Count Aumale."

My fists clenched, anger surging like wildfire through my veins. "And Aumale accepted, didn't he? My father would never surrender without securing our safety."

"He did," Arnold whispered, his voice a broken thing. "Aumale swore on his honor that your sisters would be spared. But the Count…" Arnold's hands trembled as he spoke, "...he lied. After executing your father and your mother, Baroness Serephina, he ordered your sisters to be taken."

My vision blurred with rage and anguish. "Do you know where they were taken?"

Arnold's face fell, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his own helplessness. "I do not know, young master. Count Aumale ordered the surviving household staff, including Suzy, Wendy, and Mecca, to be sold as slaves. Your sisters were among them. I tried to follow their trail, but Aumale's men were thorough in covering their tracks. I failed them, and I failed you."

The names of the household staff struck me like a hammer to the chest. Suzy, Wendy, Mecca—women who had cared for me with kindness and loyalty, now reduced to chattel. And my sisters—my precious little sisters—torn from everything they knew, their fate hanging in the balance.

"Damn it, Arnold!" I shouted, the walls of the chamber echoing my fury. "How could this happen? How could he betray my father's final plea?"

Arnold dropped to one knee, bowing his head. "I have no excuse, young master. I am ashamed that I could not save them. But I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to help you find them."

I turned away, the pendant in my hand trembling with the weight of my grip. The truth of my family's fate settled like lead in my chest, but with it came a burning resolve.

"I will find them," I said, my voice low but steady. "No matter how far I have to go or what price I have to pay, I will find my sisters. And Count Aumale will answer for what he has done. I swear it."

As Arnold and I emerged from the hidden chamber, the weight of my newfound knowledge and the burden of my vow settled heavily upon my shoulders. The ruins of Eisenhart, once a symbol of strength and pride, now stood as a grim reminder of the task ahead. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, eerie shadows across the desolate landscape.

Galen, ever vigilant, stood exactly where I had left him, his eyes scanning the horizon. As we approached, he turned to us, his expression a mix of relief and concern.

"You were gone a long time," he said, his voice steady but laced with underlying tension.

I nodded, my mind still reeling from all the revelations. "There is much to discuss," I replied gravely. "But first, we must leave this place. It is no longer safe here." Turning to Arnold, I added, "Can you prepare the carriage for us, Arnold?"

"You don't need to ask, my lord," he replied with a faint nod. "I'll see to it at once."

'My lord...' His words echoed in my mind. Yes, indeed; I am now the head of the Eisenhart household. The responsibility now falls upon my shoulders.

---

As Arnold and I climbed into the carriage, the weight of my newfound knowledge pressed heavily on me. My vow to reclaim what had been taken and bring justice to those responsible burned in my chest like a smoldering flame. 

Galen sat at the reins, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as they scanned the darkening horizon. "Everything's set, my lord," he said, his tone steady, though a flicker of his usual bravado surfaced briefly. 

"Good," I replied, settling into the seat. 

With a flick of the reins, the carriage began to move, the rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestones filling the silence. The desolation of Eisenhart slowly gave way to the rolling hills and dense forests of Albret County, but the grim reality of our mission lingered in the air. 

Arnold sat opposite me, his hood drawn low, his gaze as sharp as ever. The soft glow of the lanterns illuminated his weathered features, his presence a reminder of the shadows we now walked in. 

"Arnold," I said, breaking the silence, "tell me what's happened beyond Eisenhart. What are we facing?" 

Arnold's voice was low, calm, and deliberate. "Count Aumale's campaign has been ruthless. After Eisenhart, he moved swiftly, destroying a couple of neighboring baronies, and then crushing Valois and Lusignan. He is now laying siege to the Velrois domain, cutting off their supplies. The situation there is dire."

My fists tightened at the mention of Velrois. "Why was Eisenhart his first target?" 

Galen shifted slightly, his usual lightheartedness tempered by the gravity of the moment. "Your father, my lord," he said, his voice steady. "He was a symbol—a warrior others looked to. Taking him down sent a message: Aumale isn't just fighting battles; he's waging a war of fear." 

Arnold nodded. "Eisenhart was a cornerstone of the alliance. By breaking it, Aumale hoped to scatter the remaining lords and eliminate resistance before it could unify." 

The words hung heavily in the air. "So, he's dismantling the alliance piece by piece," I murmured. 

Galen glanced back, his expression unusually serious. "If we're going to stop him, we don't have the luxury of time. Every moment we waste is a moment closer to losing your sisters forever." His voice carried an urgency that matched the fire in my chest. "We need to act, and we need to act fast." 

Arnold's lips curled slightly, the ghost of a smile. "In Albret County, we'll adopt new identities. You'll be a scholar, my lord. I'll serve as your attendant, and Galen will take the role of your guard. With his demeanor, no one will dare to question our cover." 

Galen smirked faintly, his confidence surfacing but tempered by the situation. "Just say the word, and I'll glare a hole through anyone who looks at us the wrong way. But when it's time to move, don't expect me to hold back." 

The tension in the carriage eased slightly, but the seriousness of the situation remained.

The charred remnants of Eisenhart faded behind us as we reached Albret County. The bustling streets of a market town greeted us, alive with the sounds of merchants and travelers. It was the perfect place to disappear into the crowd. 

Arnold's planning proved impeccable. With forged documents and carefully chosen disguises, we became unremarkable faces in a sea of anonymity. I donned the role of a reserved scholar, Arnold a dutiful attendant, and Galen—his imposing frame and scarred visage lending credibility—became the ever-watchful guard. 

Over the following days, we moved cautiously, blending seamlessly into the inn's bustling common room and the crowded streets. Whispers of Count Aumale's cruelty were everywhere, his shadow looming over the land. Yet, there were also murmurs of quiet defiance, faint hopes pinned on Count Velrois and the resistance. 

One evening, as we sat at a corner table in the dimly lit common room, a man approached us. Dust clung to his travel-worn clothes, and his eyes, though tired, burned with determination. 

"I overheard your conversation," he began, his voice low. "You're searching for slaves taken by Count Aumale?" 

Galen's eyes narrowed, his hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of his sword. "Depends on why you're asking," he said, his tone even. 

The man hesitated but pressed on. "I may have seen them. But I'll need something in return." 

I raised a hand, silently signaling Galen to hold back. "What's your price?" I asked. 

The man leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. "Safe passage out of Albret County. And a promise that you'll make Aumale pay for what he's done." 

I met his gaze, unwavering. "You have my word. Now tell me what you know." 

He introduced himself as Thaddeus, a merchant who had escaped one of Aumale's camps. "The girls you're looking for—they're in a slave camp near the border of Aumale's domain. But it's more than just them. Soldiers, nobles, servants—he's taken them all. The camp's well-guarded, and escape is nearly impossible." 

The weight of his words hit me like a hammer. "What can you tell us about the defenses?" 

Thaddeus provided what little he knew: guard rotations, camp layouts, and potential vulnerabilities.

The weight of Thaddeus's words hung heavy in the air, each detail about the camp painting a grim picture of what lay ahead. He leaned closer, his voice a conspiratorial murmur. "The guards are heavily armed, but they're overconfident. They think no one would dare attempt a rescue. Patrols are tight at night, but the supply route—there might be an opening there." 

I nodded, my expression steady, giving no indication of my thoughts. "It's risky, but not impossible," I replied, keeping my tone measured. 

Galen leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on Thaddeus. "If you're leading us into a trap, you'll regret it," he said evenly, the steel in his voice unmistakable. 

Thaddeus flinched slightly but held his ground. "I have no reason to lie," he said, his tone firm despite the tension. "If you don't trust me, that's your decision. But those girls don't have much time." 

I gave him a small, deliberate nod. "We'll take your information into account. You've done your part. Rest assured, we'll honor our promise for your safe passage." 

Thaddeus's shoulders eased slightly, though his wariness remained. "Good. Then I'll leave you to your planning. The less we're seen together, the better." 

"Agreed," I said, watching as he stood and exited the common room, disappearing into the inn's crowded hallways. 

I remained silent for a moment, my eyes lingering on the doorway where he had left. Galen leaned forward, his arms resting on the table as his sharp tone softened slightly. "So, what do you think? Truth, or is he trying to sell us a pipe dream?" 

I didn't answer immediately, my gaze shifting to Arnold, who sat quietly beside me. Waiting until Thaddeus was well out of earshot, I finally spoke in a low voice. "We'll see soon enough. Arnold, you know what to do." 

Arnold's expression didn't shift, but there was a faint flicker of understanding in his eyes. He gave a subtle nod. "Consider it done, my lord," he replied evenly, rising from his seat and making his way toward the back of the inn with purposeful strides. 

Galen, meanwhile, tapped his fingers on the table, his smirk returning. "Always the cautious one, huh? Fine by me. Just let me know when it's time to knock some heads." 

I didn't respond, letting the rhythmic hum of the common room fill the space between us. Suspicion gnawed at the edges of my thoughts, but I kept my expression impassive. Thaddeus had provided valuable information, but trust was a luxury we couldn't afford. 

If his words were true, we'd use them to our advantage. If not, Arnold would find out soon enough—and then we'd deal with the consequences. 

For now, the priority was preparing for the rescue and ensuring no detail was overlooked. Whether Thaddeus was ally or adversary, one thing was certain: time was running out, and failure was not an option.