CHAPTER 230: PAST AND WEAPON

Hades and Marilyn were getting attention from the locals—well, mostly Hades, given how his vibrant crimson hair stood out even in a bustling crowd. People paused mid-conversation the moment they noticed him. Some greeted him warmly, others bowed deeply, acknowledging the Prince of Aethernox with reverence that bordered on devotion.

Hades no longer needed to hide himself. The only people he ever feared being discovered by already knew he had arrived in the Dragon’s Realm. So there was no point in masking his identity anymore.

Now, he walked proudly through the streets with his wife’s hand resting lightly on his arm.

Marilyn, however, was visibly uneasy. For someone trained all her life to be a shadow—unseen, unnoticed, unheard—standing at the center of attention felt unnatural. The eyes tracking her, the whispers trailing behind them, the way strangers tried to catch even a glimpse of her face... it all felt overwhelming.

But she had been thoroughly prepared for this by her older sister. Avalin had sat her down days ago and explained—firmly yet gently—the role she now carried in Hades’s life. A role far above the one she had lived under all these years.

Avalin had also told her the truth she had been dreading: Marilyn could no longer continue serving as Hades’s shadow. Not now, not after Marilyn had become his wife and carried the title she did. Avalin needed her to step down.

Marilyn had been saddened by that. She had always been Hades’s silent protector, the unseen blade at his back. Losing that connection felt like losing a piece of home.

But Marilyn didn’t reject her new place—not when it involved Hades. She cherished her relationship with him too deeply to refuse. Nothing was above the bond she shared with her lord and husband.

Which meant she had to adapt. She had to learn. She had to rise to the new role, carry it with grace, and ensure she never embarrassed the man she loved.

"You never told me about yourself, Marilyn," Hades said as they walked. "You know almost everything about me, but I... barely know anything about your past."

He paused, then added gently, "Only if you’re comfortable sharing it."

Marilyn gave him a soft smile. His consideration warmed her, but there was nothing she wished to hide from him—not now, not ever.

"Our clan was on the verge of being wiped out when I was a child," she began quietly. "That was when Clan Aethernox—who has always worshipped Lord Zerathos—rescued us from extinction."

She didn’t remember the details clearly. Everything from that era came in scattered flashes—fire, screams, burning homes, her sister’s tight grip on her wrist. What she remembered vividly, however, was the change that war had carved into her sister.

Avalin had once been cheerful. She used to smile no matter the situation, comforting others even when she herself was hurting. She was like a blooming flower in Marilyn’s eyes, brightening every corner she walked into.

But the war...

The war didn’t just take their parents.

It took Avalin’s smile with it.

"My sister was injured—physically and emotionally," Marilyn continued softly. "And since most of our surviving clan members left, it was just the two of us. She raised me while serving Aethernox to repay the debt we owed."

Hades’s brow lifted. "Was she asked to work for Aethernox?"

Marilyn nodded. "Right after she joined... she was appointed as the battalion commander of the eastern division."

Hades frowned. "That’s cruel. She had just lost her family, her home..."

Marilyn panicked slightly and waved her hands. "No, please don’t misunderstand! My sister *wanted* to make herself useful. And Aethernox was always short on soldiers back then, so they relied on her strength."

She didn’t want him to hate his ancestors. She didn’t want any bitterness to rise between him and the legacy he carried. So she hurried to correct him.

Hades exhaled and nodded slowly before asking, "You must have had a difficult childhood, then?"

Marilyn nodded, her expression softening. "It was hard... but I survived. And compared to my sister, I lived comfortably once we joined Aethernox. The suffering she endured... I don’t think I could have survived it."

Her shoulders slumped as she added in a whisper, "She saw our entire clan burn right in front of her eyes. I... I still haven’t grown strong enough to bear that kind of sight."

Hades spoke fondly, "You really respect her, don’t you?"

Marilyn slowly nodded, "She...is my savior. The reason why I dared to leave that past and stand proud as who I am."

His hand met hers, a warm connection established between the two as Hades said, "I am glad to hear that."

....

Soon, they reached the main market, where the blacksmith’s shop stood near the entrance — the first place on their list.

As they stepped inside, Hades was immediately met with the thick, warm scent of heated iron mixed with coal, the air humming with the steady rhythm of metal being struck somewhere deeper within the workshop. Sparks flickered from behind a half-open door, and the glow of a furnace painted the walls in orange pulses.

At the reception desk stood a man who looked up at the sound of the door, ready to greet another customer.

But the moment his eyes landed on Hades, his expression froze — and then bloomed into pure surprise.

"Your Highness? Welcome!" he exclaimed, instantly stepping out from behind the counter.

He was short and stout, with a balding head, broad shoulders, and a thick white moustache that curled slightly at the ends. His apron was stained with soot, and his gloves were tucked into his belt, indicating he had just stepped away from work.

He bowed his head respectfully toward Hades, then offered a warm nod to Marilyn.

"You could have called for us if you needed something," he said earnestly. "We would have sent anything you required."

Hades chuckled lightly. "We were out for a walk, so I thought we should visit the famous shop Mother told me about."

At those words, the man’s eyes glistened with emotion. He pressed a calloused hand against his chest, standing a little straighter, voice trembling just enough to show how deeply it affected him.

"The Queen speaking highly of my workplace..." he murmured, almost reverently. "Your Highness, there is no honor higher than that."

He bowed once more — deeper this time — before continuing with heartfelt sincerity:

"My family has served the royal armory for three generations. But to know Her Majesty remembers our craft... and recommends it... I cannot express what that means to us."

Marilyn smiled softly at his earnestness.

Hades could feel the air in the room shift — the man’s pride, devotion, and gratitude lingering like the heat of the forge around them.

"Please," the blacksmith said, stepping aside and motioning them inward, "come further in. Whatever you need — reforging, crafting, enchantments, repairs — it would be my privilege to handle it personally."

Hades took a slow walk along the display wall, letting his fingertips trail across rows of polished metal, intricate mechanisms, and tools that spoke of decades of craftsmanship. He was genuinely impressed — not just by the variety, but by the precision. Every piece had weight, history, and intention.

Some tools he recognized immediately.

Others... he couldn’t even guess their purpose. Their shapes were unfamiliar, their designs so specific that it was clear they had been crafted for a single user, a single fighting style, perhaps even a single moment in battle. They weren’t weapons; they were extensions of someone’s soul.

One, in particular, caught his attention.

A heavy chained weapon hung alone on a reinforced hook, as if the wall itself needed extra support to hold it. A blade rested at each end of the chain — thick, curved, and gleaming even under the dim shop lighting. When Hades reached up to lift it, he felt its weight immediately. The weapon stood nearly twice his height, and the metal links were as thick as his wrist.

He gave it a testing pull.

"Wise choice, Your Highness," the blacksmith said, stepping closer with a proud smile. "That one is crafted for both long and short-range combat. The ore used for the blades has a particular... appetite. It becomes stronger the more blood it’s fed."

Hades raised a brow but continued listening.

"The chain itself," the man added reverently, "is forged from the ground tusks of Troden Elephants. Rare creatures. Temperamental, too. Their tusk fibers make the chain both sturdy and unforgiving — flexible enough for whips, but strong enough to bind."

Hades hummed thoughtfully.

He tightened his grip and gave the chain a light swing.

A sharp *whizz* cut through the air as the blades sliced a clean arc, humming with controlled danger. The rotation pulled at his shoulder with a satisfying drag — heavy, but balanced. A weapon that demanded respect.

Hades swung it again — a little stronger this time.

Another *whizz*, deeper, sharper — like the air itself was being carved apart.

Behind him, Marilyn instinctively stepped back.

Even the blacksmith nodded in appreciation, arms folded, eyes gleaming with pride.

"That weapon chooses only those who can handle its wrath," he said. "It seems to favor you, Your Highness."

Hades lowered the chain slowly, feeling its weight settle along his arms as he murmured to himself, "I guess it’s time to get myself a proper weapon."

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A/N:- Thanks for reading.