Chapter 30 Back to Manor

By the time the carriage finally rolled back into the Kyros Estate, the sun was already sinking low. The familiar iron gates creaked open as the estate guards bowed in greeting. Servants bustled across the courtyard, making ready for their arrival, while the grand manor stood tall in the warm glow of dusk, just as they remembered. Ambrosia stretched at once.

“We’re back.”

Lisa looked around quietly.

“It feels strange after two weeks away.”

“Yes,” Amos admitted.

The countryside was calm and still when the manor doors swung open. Roland stepped out first, but Amos stopped in his tracks.

“…Oh.”

Standing beside Roland was a tall man with sharp golden eyes and blonde hair streaked faintly with age. His presence alone carried an invisible pressure—not overwhelming like a warrior’s, but the quiet authority of someone long accustomed to command.

The current Lord Kyros, Duke Aros E. Kyros, made Ambrosia’s face instantly light up.

“Father!”

Aros opened his arms just in time to catch his daughter as she all but launched herself into them. A faint smile softened the Duke’s usually composed expression.

“You’ve grown energetic.”

“She gets that from Amos,” Roland muttered quietly.

“I heard that.”

Lisa stood awkwardly nearby before bowing quickly.

“Welcome back, my lord.”

Aros nodded calmly.

“It’s good to see you again, Lisa.”

Then—those golden eyes turned to Amos.   Amos met the gaze.  

“You’re back early.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Aros crossed his arms.

“And apparently my son vanished into the countryside before I returned.”

“I received a threatening grandparent letter.”

“That sounds like them.”

“Grandmother threatened to publicly embarrass me.”

“That sounds like my mother.”

Father and son stared at each other for several seconds. Then Aros sighed quietly.

“You grew taller again.”

“You noticed that first?”

“You’re nearly becoming annoying to look at.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s a Kyros family tradition.” Roland looked deeply unsurprised by this interaction.

Ambrosia meanwhile looked between them with growing disappointment.

“Why are Kyros men so terrible at greetings.”

“Age gap” Amos answered immediately.

“Trait,” Aros answered at the exact same time.

Lisa looked like she was trying not to laugh.

Then Aros’s gaze sharpened slightly.

“You visited my parents.”

“Yes.”

Roland stepped forward politely afterward.

“My lord arrived only yesterday.”

“I see.”

Aros glanced toward the luggage being unloaded.

“Did your grandfather try teaching you politics again?”

“Maybe.”

“Did he say anything illegal.”

“Maybe.”

Aros closed his eyes slowly.

“He absolutely did.”

“He taught me money laundering saving.”

Roland quickly averted his gaze. Lisa stood still. Ambros let out a gasp. Aros pinched the bridge of his nose with the weary precision of someone who had endured years of hardship.

“That old fox.”

“In his defense, he was extremely experienced at it.”

“That somehow makes this worse.”

Amos crossed his arms casually.

“He also encouraged me to pursue multiple women.”

This time—Aros froze for a moment, completely still. Then, with deliberate slowness:“You told your grandmother, right?”

“Immediately.”

“Good.”

Aros exhaled quietly before glancing toward the manor.

“Come inside.”

The servants quickly got back to unloading as the family stepped into the estate together Walking beside his father, Amos sensed something was different. Aros had just returned after weeks away dealing with territory matters near the capital. talks were usually short, marked by that distant, noble air. Yet the Duke’s eyes wandered now and then—toward Amos, Ambrosia, toward Lisa—as though taking in all that had changed during his absence. Night had already settled across the Kyros Estate by the time Amos quietly slipped away from the manor halls.

Naturally, he was headed somewhere he definitely wasn’t supposed to be alone—which, frankly, didn’t leave many options. The estate archive lay buried beneath the main manor, far below the glittering noble halls most guests ever saw. As Amos descended, the world grew quieter; polished wood gave way to cold stone, and the air cooled noticeably. He reached a secluded floor, ringed with silver barriers and marked with ancient runes. At its center was a single emblem—the crest of House Kyros. The underground air was thick with the scent of paper, ink, dust, and old magic. At the final checkpoint, two armored knights stood before a massive, rune-covered door, straightening the instant they saw.“Young Master.”

Amos raised a folded document lazily between two fingers.

“Special authorization.”

The knights tensed the moment they saw the seal. It bore not just the current Duke’s authority, but also the former Duke’s personal insignia. Axios had acted with astonishing speed. One knight gave the document a quick but thorough inspection before promptly stepping aside.

“The archive has already been prepared.”

“Thank you for your handwork.”

“The Head Archivist has been waiting.”

“Excellent.”

Neither knight replied, which in itself was an answer. The massive doors creaked open, and Amos stepped inside. Silence welcomed him first—then came the shelves. rows stretched into a labyrinth of records, books, sealed documents, family histories, military reports, treaties, magical research, territorial logs, bloodline registries, and centuries of accumulated Kyros knowledge buried deep underground. Softly glowing magic lamps lit the way, while faintly shimmering barriers guarded restricted sections. In the deepest archives, the mana pressure was so heavy it could bring ordinary scholars to their knees.

“What a ridiculous place this is.”

“Young Master Amos.”

An elderly man emerged quietly from between the shelves wearing dark archivist robes embroidered with silver thread. The Head Archivist bowed respectfully.

“Lord Aros informed us of your arrival.”

Amos immediately narrowed his eyes.

“Nice, so you know what I am here for then.”

“The restricted lineage archives have already been unlocked for you.”

“Did Father agree to it quickly?”

“The former Lord Axios sent a quite the letter.”

“Grandfather do have a really nice paperwork skill.”

“Yes.”

“That old fox.”

The archivist adjusted his glasses calmly.

“The previous and current heads rarely agree this efficiently.”

The old man gestured deeper into the archive.

“This way.”

Amos trailed along in silence as they moved deeper underground, the air shifting around them. The mana grew thicker, and intricate protective magic circles lined the walls. One by one, ancient doors appeared, each demanding its own authorization seal before opening. At last, they at the lowest chamber—a vast circular room hidden beneath the estate. Unlike the upper archives, there were no endless rows of shelves here, a massive black table at its center. Around it stood locked cabinets of silver-black wood, reinforced with magic older than most kingdoms. Etched into the floor was the Kyros crest, and in the hush, the archivist spoke softly.

“The inheritance archive.”

Amos stared silently.

“This place stores the records passed only between heads of the Kyros family.”

“Every diary.”

“Every confidential report.”

“Every succession record.”

“Every prophecy interpretation.”

“Every hidden agreement.”

The old man looked toward Amos carefully.

“For generations.”

Amos moved slowly toward the nearest cabinet, and Mana reacted in an instant. The engraved crest its surface gave off a faint glow, as if recognizing him. The archivist’s voice dropped to an even softer murmur. With deliberate care, the old man unlocked the cabinet and stepped aside. Inside, rows upon rows of journals lay in still silence, each bearing the name of a former Kyros head—centuries of history. Amos reached toward one, then hesitated.

“How much of this did father read?”

“Every single one.”

“What.”

“The current Duke spent nearly four years studying this archive before inheriting leadership.”

Amos let out a quiet breath before carefully pulling out an old journal. The leather was worn with age, and on the cover, a single name was engraved—Eos Kyros. The First Eos, The Beginning of it all. He stared at it in silence. The prophecy no longer felt like some distant family legend; now the proof rested in his hands. The archivist gave a final, quiet bow.

“Young Master.”

“Hm?”

“The archive will remain open for you as long as needed.”

The old man slipped away without a word, leaving Amos alone beneath the estate, surrounded by generations of secrets. For a moment, he just stood there in silence, then slowly opened the journal and began to read.