The Last Banner

The study was a modest space, the air heavy with the scent of old parchment and ink. Maps and documents were scattered across the large desk, and behind it sat Duke Leonidas. His once-powerful frame was hunched, his pale skin and laboured breathing betraying the toll of years spent managing a duchy constantly at war. Leonidas glanced up at Hadrian, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly before softening.

To his father's left stood Priestess Althea. The sight of her stirred memories—vivid and incomplete, like fragments of a dream. She had arrived in Thrace a year ago, sent by the Church of the Flame to "advise" the Duke on spiritual matters. Althea had quickly become more than just an advisor; her fiery red hair, striking green eyes, and commanding presence had earned her the respect—and attention—of the household. Even now, she radiated a confidence that made her crimson and gold robes seem almost unnecessary.

"Hadrian," Leonidas said, his voice gravelly but steady. "You've recovered enough to join us. That's good."

Hadrian inclined his head, careful to hide the strain it took to maintain a straight posture. "I thought it was time to do something useful, Father."

Leonidas studied him for a moment before gesturing to the chair across from the desk. "Sit. We were just discussing the preparations for the goblin delegation."

Hadrian approached the desk, his gaze flicking briefly to Althea as he sat. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes lingered on him with a sharpness that made his skin prickle. She'd always been attentive, always watching, and the memories of her influence over his father stirred unease in his chest.

"We're stretched thin," Leonidas continued, gesturing to the map spread across the desk. "The delegation is an excuse. They're testing us—looking for weakness."

Hadrian leaned forward, letting the memories guide him as he traced the lines of the map with his eyes. "We're always stretched thin," he said quietly. "But they haven't broken through yet. That has to mean something."

Leonidas's gaze sharpened slightly, and a faint cough shook his frame. Althea stepped forward, her movements smooth as she placed a gentle hand on the Duke's shoulder. "Your son is right, my lord," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Thrace endures because of your leadership. That strength will carry us through this trial as well."

Hadrian's eyes flicked to her again, his unease growing. The way she spoke, the way her presence filled the room—it wasn't just respect. It was control.

A faint ping interrupted his thoughts, and text appeared briefly in his vision, startling him.

New Mission: Found a Religion

Objective: Establish a faith to rival the Church of the Flame.

Reward: Unlock new skills, gain divine influence.

Hadrian's jaw tightened as he processed the words. The audacity of the suggestion was almost laughable. Found a religion? With what followers? With what power? Dismissing the notification, he focused instead on the conversation before him.

"Father," he said, keeping his tone measured, "you're managing too much on your own. Your health—" He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It's clear you need support. Let me help with the administrative tasks. I can start small."

Leonidas's expression darkened briefly, his pride bristling at the suggestion. But as another cough shook his body, he exhaled heavily and nodded. "We'll see," he said gruffly. "There are simpler matters you can assist with. I'll have someone guide you."

Hadrian inclined his head, hiding the flicker of satisfaction in his chest. "Thank you, Father. I won't let you down."

As the meeting wound down, Althea's gaze lingered on him again, her expression unreadable. Hadrian met her eyes, offering a faint smile that didn't reach his own. Her presence, her influence—it was something he'd have to address eventually. But for now, he had bigger priorities.

Rising from his seat, Hadrian bowed slightly before leaving the study, his mind already racing with plans.

Hadrian sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the faint glow of the brazier in the corner of the room. The warmth barely reached him, and the silence of the manor seemed heavier than usual. The day had been long, draining both his body and his mind, but his thoughts refused to settle.

The encounter with his father and Priestess Althea played over and over in his head. He could still feel her sharp gaze, the weight of her presence, the way her words seemed to guide the conversation effortlessly. She wasn't just an advisor—she was a strategist, playing a game that few even realized was happening. And his father… his father was clearly losing his grip. The coughing fits, the way he leaned on Althea for support—it all pointed to a man struggling against his own decline.

Hadrian leaned forward, running a hand through his hair. The system notification from earlier hovered at the edge of his thoughts, refusing to be ignored.

Found a religion. The idea was ludicrous. There was no reason for anyone to follow him, no power or influence to back him up. He couldn't even manage a full set of push-ups without collapsing, and the system wanted him to create a faith?

"No," he muttered to himself. "Not now. Not until I have something to offer."

His gaze drifted to the mirror across the room, its tarnished surface reflecting a distorted image of him. He stood, crossing the cold floor to get a closer look. His reflection stared back, thin and pale, the lines of his face sharp but overshadowed by the frailty of his frame. He was short for his age, barely 5'5", and his body looked more like a ghost of what it should have been.

But as he studied himself, he noticed something else. There was a faintness to the hollows under his eyes, a subtle sturdiness in the way he stood. He wasn't strong—he wasn't even healthy—but the effort he'd put in that morning had left a mark. His body was still weak, but it was moving, however slowly, in the right direction.

Hadrian touched the edge of the mirror, his fingers leaving smudges on the dusty surface. He straightened his posture, holding his head a little higher.

"I'll make this work," he said softly, his voice steady. "But it's going to take time."

Turning away from the mirror, he climbed back into bed, pulling the thin blanket over himself. The brazier's faint warmth barely cut through the chill, but he ignored it, letting his thoughts drift to the challenges ahead. His father's health. Althea's influence. The system.

One step at a time. He had time to figure it all out. For now, survival and progress were the only things that mattered.