CHAPTER 279: CHAPTER 279: THE CROWN OF THARVALDUR

The streets of Tharvaldur were overflowing with people. Dwarves, merchants, and families pressed against each other, all moving toward the same destination: the underground castle where the kingdom’s future would be announced. The air was thick with tension, a mix of nervousness and anticipation after everything that had happened.

Noel walked through the crowd with Elena at his side. He wore the dark green suit he had bought at Noriel’s shop, sharp and formal, making him look more like a noble than a student. Elena was dressed in a pale yellow gown, simple but elegant, her platinum hair loose over her shoulders.

At the castle’s steps, Elyra was already waiting. She wore a deep red dress that clung to her form, her long black hair braided neatly, and her grey eyes scanning the scene with a calm, assessing gaze.

Elyra smiled as they approached. "You arrived early."

Noel shrugged. "Didn’t want to miss the drunkard’s coronation. You look good in that dress."

"Oh?" Elyra tilted her head, lips curving. "Are you implying something, Noel Thorne?"

Elena flushed instantly, ears twitching. "Don’t you think it’s a little too soon for that, Elyra?"

"Hmm, maybe," Elyra said lightly, then leaned closer with a teasing glint in her eye. "But I can see you were the one with him last night. Did anything interesting happen? Care to give me the details?"

Elena’s face turned crimson. "N-nothing! We just slept."

"Well, if you don’t want to share, that’s fine." Elyra smiled knowingly. "I’ll be busy later anyway. I asked Noriel for a meeting."

Noel frowned. "Why?"

Elyra gave him a look. "Darling, did you forget who I am? Wherever there’s profit, the Estermonts appear. And we’ll need to start saving for a big house for all of us, don’t you think?"

"You don’t think we should at least finish the academy first?" Noel muttered.

Elyra smirked. "No need. I can support all of us."

"...When all this is over, maybe," Noel said.

"Then it’s a promise." She looked at Elena. "You’re my witness."

Elena nodded shyly, her long ears glowing red.

The three of them entered the castle together, where Nicolas was waiting to escort them inside.

Inside the castle halls, the noise of the crowd faded into a steady hum, muffled by stone walls and banners.

"You’ve done well, Noel," Nicolas said as they walked. "This could have gone far worse."

Noel raised a brow. "And outside Tharvaldur? How’s the situation in Valor?"

Nicolas folded his hands behind his back. "King Alveron’s private army has already been mobilized. They’re searching for the two enemies we know in our continent, but..." He exhaled. "Given how vast Valor is, finding them won’t be easy. It could take weeks, months even."

’So the Fourth and Third Pillars are still at large...’ Noel thought grimly.

Before he could press further, a guard approached and bowed deeply. "Lord Balthor requests your presence before the ceremony."

Nicolas nodded and motioned for Noel to follow.

They were led into a smaller chamber, its walls lined with old Tharvaldur banners and shields dulled by time. Balthor was already there, clad in ceremonial armor, his usual sloppy demeanor replaced by something heavier, more grounded.

When he saw Noel, a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, though it faltered quickly. "Didn’t think I’d end up like this. I never wanted the crown... but now I don’t have a choice."

Noel smirked faintly. "If the work gets too heavy, just dump it all on Noriel. He seems used to it."

Balthor let out a short laugh, the tension in the room easing for a heartbeat.

Noriel, however, remained serious. "This isn’t a battle you can win with ale or bravado. You’ll have to rebuild trust, purge corruption, and carry the weight of every mistake your brother left behind. This will test you more than any fight."

Balthor’s grin faded. He looked Noel in the eyes. "If you ever need me, remember — you’ve got a whole kingdom at your back now. I owe you that much."

Noel’s chest tightened slightly at the words. "...I’ll hold you to it."

The three stood in silence, the weight of what was about to begin settling heavily in the air.

Moments later, the chamber doors opened, and the distant roar of voices poured in. Noel followed Balthor and Noriel through the castle corridors, each step carrying them closer to the heart of Tharvaldur. The noise grew louder with every turn, until the path opened into blinding torchlight and the vast expanse of the main plaza.

The underground square stretched wide, carved into the heart of the mountain itself. Colossal stone pillars supported the cavern roof, while arched bridges and carved balconies were packed with citizens waving banners and torches. The murmur of thousands of voices echoed like rolling thunder.

At the center rose the grand stage, draped with banners bearing the royal crest. The air was thick with smoke, iron, and anticipation.

Noel, Elena, and Elyra stood in a reserved section above the crowd, alongside nobles, professors, and the foreign students. Marcus, Clara, Garron, Laziel, Roberto, Selene and even Princess Seraphina were present. From their vantage point, they could see the sea of dwarves below, the faces of merchants, soldiers, and workers who had endured years under Torwan’s shadow.

The crowd hushed as Noriel stepped onto the stage. His presence commanded silence even before he spoke, his voice carrying effortlessly through the cavern.

"People of Tharvaldur," Noriel began, his tone firm and solemn. "For years, you have lived under lies. You were told a king ruled you, when in truth, he was nothing more than a puppet. It was Torwan, your supposed protector, who held the strings."

Gasps and angry shouts rippled through the crowd. Noriel did not falter. "Factories of suffering. Families enslaved. Crimes buried in darkness. This is the legacy he left behind."

The atmosphere grew tense, grief and fury mixing in equal measure. Noel could feel it, the weight of a nation confronting betrayal.

Noriel raised a hand, his voice rising. "But Tharvaldur did not fall. Thanks to the courage of many, to the sacrifices of our people, and yes, even the aid of foreign students who stood with us, we endured."

The murmurs shifted, some of the crowd turning their eyes toward the foreign students’ section. Whispers of respect passed through the dwarves.

Noriel’s final words struck hard. "Now, trust must be rebuilt. And for that, a new king will rise. Balthor, son of our late king, will restore the honor of this nation!"

The roar of the crowd reached its peak as Balthor stepped onto the stage. He wore his ceremonial armor, polished steel glinting under the torchlight, but his expression was steady, far removed from the drunkard Noel once mocked.

Noriel stood beside him, holding the crown — a heavy circlet of blackened iron, etched with ancient runes that glimmered faintly in the firelight.

"Tharvaldur has endured," Noriel declared, his voice carrying across the cavern. "Now, it shall rise again."

Balthor knelt. Noriel lowered the crown onto his head.

The cavern erupted. A tidal wave of cheers shook the stone pillars as the people of Tharvaldur cried Balthor’s name, their voices echoing endlessly through the mountain halls.

Noel stood among the foreign students, watching quietly. ’From a drunken fool in a tavern... to king of an entire nation. This is what should have happened in the original novel from the beginning.’

Balthor rose to his feet, lifting the crown high for all to see. The shouts grew even louder, drowning the plaza in thunderous celebration.