CHAPTER 329: CHAPTER 329 CHARGE

Riley was victorious, and soon his name echoed throughout the entire region.

Songs were sung of his feats, and storytellers carried tales of his impossible victories from village to village, painting him as a man chosen by destiny itself.

To the people, he was not merely the young heir of the Rice Clan—he was a figure who had reshaped their very way of life.

The laws of the land shifted under his command, and unlike so many rulers before him, his changes were not crafted for selfish gain but for the betterment of all.

He abolished the cruel levy that had bled farmers dry, replacing it with fair contributions that left enough food for families to thrive.

He regulated trade routes, ensuring merchants would not be ambushed by bandits without consequence.

He even ordered the construction of roads connecting once-isolated clans, allowing the flow of goods, knowledge, and culture.

Warriors were not merely used as tools of war anymore; they were given roles in guarding, teaching, and maintaining the peace.

The entire region, once divided by generations of rivalry, suspicion, and endless bloodshed, now changed hands and ownership.

Under Riley’s leadership, chaos began to fade. It was a rare moment in history when peace seemed possible, and with peace came the need for a new identity.

"We should rename the region," one of the elders proposed during a grand council held at the Rice Clan’s ancestral hall.

His voice carried across the chamber, and murmurs of agreement followed.

The lords and patriarchs gathered that day were men who, not long ago, would have fought each other to the death.

Now, under Riley’s shadow, they sat as allies.

Riley leaned forward, his gaze steady as he scanned the hall.

He spoke with calm conviction, each word striking deep into the hearts of those present.

"Let us name it the Forever Alliance," Riley declared. "A land bound not by fear, nor by conquest, but by unity. A union that will endure not just in our lifetimes, but for generations to come. This is no longer about the Rice Clan, or the Wheeler Clan, or the Osprey Clan—it is about all of us. A region where every man, woman, and child may live without the constant shadow of war."

The hall fell silent.

For a moment, even the crackle of torches seemed to quiet, as though the world itself was holding its breath.

And then, slowly, nods came. Some were hesitant, others enthusiastic, but none dared to voice opposition.

None could deny the truth in Riley’s words.

From that day onward, the fractured territories would be bound under one banner—the Forever Alliance.

Alexander, Riley’s father, stood in the background of the gathering.

The man who had once led the Rice Clan with wisdom and strength now found himself content to remain in the shadows.

He had no need to stand at the forefront anymore. His son’s popularity and influence had soared to heights even he had never reached.

Watching Riley now—commanding men, shaping laws, and uniting clans—Alexander’s heart swelled with pride.

He remembered the boy Riley once was: stubborn, reckless, recluse, sometimes too bold for his own good.

He had worried whether his son could truly bear the burden of leadership.

But as he stood there, seeing lords bowing their heads to Riley’s authority, seeing rival patriarchs humbled into respect, Alexander knew he had nothing left to fear.

Riley had achieved the impossible.

He had ended a war without a single death on either side.

He had taken fractured clans and turned them into allies.

He had created something greater than conquest—he had created unity.

To the elders, he was a visionary. To the people, he was a savior.

To his father, he was nothing less than the pride of a lifetime.

And as the banners of the Forever Alliance began to rise, Alexander whispered a silent prayer of thanks that he had lived long enough to witness such a day.

***

The months rolled by, and with them, the winds of change swept across every corner of the Forever Alliance.

The halls of power buzzed with new decrees, while the markets and farmlands reflected the prosperity Riley’s leadership brought.

Farmers rose at dawn with smiles, no longer fearing that raiders or greedy officials would take the fruit of their labor.

Merchants traveled from clan to clan without hiring dozens of guards, their wagons loaded with goods that flowed as freely as the roads Riley had ordered built.

For the first time in generations, children grew up without the constant shadow of war or hunger pressing on their families.

Riley was a fair leader, but fairness under his rule was not weakness—it was discipline.

Justice was swift, decisive, and above all, impartial. No one was above the law, not even those tied to him by blood.

One such event shook the clans and cemented Riley’s reputation in the hearts of the people.

"Did you hear what happened yesterday?" a young man whispered as he sold fruit at the bustling marketplace. His voice carried just enough for the nearby vendors to lean closer. "The alliance leader punished his own cousins—had their balls cut off."

Gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by murmurs of disbelief.

"They thought they could do as they pleased," the young man continued, his tone filled with satisfaction. "Tried to force themselves on a maiden from a neighboring clan. But the guards caught them, and Riley didn’t care that they were his blood. He passed judgment right there and then."

An older merchant spat on the ground and nodded firmly. "Good. Too many lords protect their kin no matter the crime. But Riley... he’s different. To him, the law is the law. It doesn’t matter if you’re a farmer, a noble, or his own family. We’re blessed to live under his rule."

The tale spread like wildfire, traveling from mouth to mouth, from tavern songs to family hearths.

For many, it became a story parents told their children at night—not only to instill fear of punishment, but to remind them that justice truly existed under the Forever Alliance.

And so the days turned to weeks, and the weeks to months.

Riley ruled with an iron fist and a compassionate heart.

Those who committed crimes faced swift and public punishment, while those who worked honestly enjoyed peace and security.

There was no favoritism, no bribery that could sway judgment. His people came to trust the law because they trusted him.

Life flourished.

Fields yielded better harvests now that farmers no longer had to abandon them in times of war.

Trade routes became rivers of wealth, bringing in spices, textiles, and rare treasures from far-off regions.

Taverns filled each night with laughter instead of grief.

Festivals returned, brighter and livelier than ever, with music, dances, and children running freely under the watchful eyes of proud parents.

For the first time in living memory, families were not defined by how many men they had lost in war, but by how many children they had raised into peace.

And through it all, Riley’s name became not just a symbol of power, but of hope.

To his allies, he was the foundation of stability. To common folk, he was the guardian of justice.

And to his enemies beyond the borders of the Alliance, he was something far more dangerous—a rising force they could no longer ignore.

And with the passing days, both Aurora and Edith grew heavy with child.

Their bellies swelled beautifully, carrying the future of the clan within them.

In just two more months, both would give birth, and the entire household already prepared for the joyous occasion.

Songs were sung in the courtyards, midwives were summoned to make ready, and the elders spoke proudly of the prosperity Riley had brought to their bloodline.

Yet, for Riley himself, there was a less joyous side to such a blessing.

With both his beloved women pregnant, his once-passionate nights came to a sudden halt.

Out of love and care, neither Aurora nor Edith wished to strain themselves in such times, and so Riley’s bed grew colder with each passing week.

For a man of his vigor and strength, the fire in his loins did not simply disappear.

In moments of weakness, he turned to liquor, hoping that the burn of wine could soothe the restless desires that gnawed at him in the quiet hours.

The strong drink dulled his edge, but it was never enough to silence the hunger completely.

And of course, there were always eyes watching.

Servants, guards, and attendants knew well enough what kind of opportunity such a situation presented.

Whispers began to stir in the halls, sly glances exchanged among the maids who carried trays of wine or folded garments.

For them, this was a rare chance—an opening to draw closer to the powerful man who ruled not only their clan but the entire region.

One night, as the moonlight spilled softly across his chamber doors, a voice, sweet and hesitant, came from outside.

"Are you inside, Master Riley?" a maiden called gently. Her tone was laced with shyness, but beneath it was a boldness that only desperation or secret desire could inspire.

The words lingered in the air, delicate yet heavy, as if the speaker herself knew that with a single step, she might change her fate forever.