Highschool DxD: Shadow Sovereign

The car rolled through the wrought iron gates of the Valac estate, wheels crunching over the gravel pathway. Ariel sat across from me, her crimson eyes studying my face with that particular intensity she reserved for post-meeting assessments.

"You seem pleased, Young Master," she said, her voice carefully neutral.

I stretched my legs out. "It was... educational."

"The Astaroth girl made an impression."

"Latia," I corrected. "And yes, she did."

The carriage stopped at the main entrance, where two guards stood at attention. One opened the door with a formal bow.

"Welcome home, Young Master."

I stepped out, adjusting my jacket as I glanced up at the family mansion. Dark stone and gothic architecture, similar to the Astaroth estate but with our own touches—shadow-infused gargoyles that occasionally moved positions, windows that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Home, sweet home.

"Father's in his study?" I asked Ariel as she exited behind me.

"Yes. Lady Selene mentioned he wished to speak with you upon your return."

Of course he did. No doubt eager for a full report on the Astaroth dinner. Political alliances waited for no devil.

"I'll head there now." I paused, turning to face her. "You're hovering, Ariel."

Her perfect composure slipped for just a moment—a slight widening of those flame-colored eyes, a quick press of her lips. "I'm concerned, Young Master."

"About?"

"The Astaroth family carries significant political weight through their connection to Lord Beelzebub. Any... entanglement... would have implications beyond the personal."

I reached out, tugging playfully at a strand of her long black hair. "Worried I'll get in over my head?"

"Never that." She stepped back, resuming her formal posture. "Merely offering perspective."

"Noted." I turned toward the main staircase. "Have some tea sent to Father's study, would you? I suspect this conversation might take a while."

She bowed slightly. "Of course."

I climbed the grand staircase, my footsteps silent against the plush carpet. Shadows seemed to reach toward me as I passed, responding to my presence. The ancestral home of the Valac clan had been built to amplify our innate shadow manipulation abilities—darkness pooled more deeply in corners, shadows stretched longer than they should.

At the east wing, I paused before the heavy oak door of my father's study. Unlike most of the house, this door remained deliberately ordinary—no enchantments, no shadow infusion. Father believed in keeping at least one entrance to his domain free of magical signatures that might interfere with visitors.

I knocked twice.

"Enter." His voice carried through the wood, deep and commanding.

I pushed the door open to find him seated behind his massive desk, reading glasses perched on his aristocratic nose as he reviewed documents. He looked up as I entered, removing the glasses in a practiced motion.

"Dante." He gestured to the chair across from him. "I trust the evening was productive?"

I closed the door behind me, taking in the familiar surroundings. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined three walls, filled with ancient tomes and family records. The fourth wall featured a large window overlooking the eastern gardens, currently shrouded in perpetual twilight. A small fire burned in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the room.

"It was interesting," I said, dropping into the indicated chair with calculated casualness. "Latia Astaroth is not what I expected."

Father leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Elaborate."

"Brilliant mind. Genuinely innovative magical theory. She's working on energy conversion principles that could revolutionize how we store and transfer power." I stretched my legs out. "Also painfully aware of her family's political position and clearly looking to strengthen it."

"As one would expect from Ajuka's niece. Did she mention him?"

"Only in passing. Though she did invite me to review some of her research."

A slight raising of his eyebrows. "She offered family magical secrets?"

"Theoretical applications only. An exchange of knowledge." I shrugged. "She's stuck on a problem involving ambient energy conversion. Thinks our shadow manipulation principles might provide insight."

"Interesting." Father tapped his fingers against the desk, a rare sign of genuine consideration. "And what did you offer in return?"

"Consultation on some spell construction projects I'm working on. Nothing that compromises our family techniques."

A knock at the door interrupted us. At Father's command, a servant entered with a silver tea service, setting it on the small table between our chairs before bowing and departing silently.

Father poured for both of us—an old habit from our private conversations. No servants, no formality. Just father and son discussing strategy.

"Your impression of her character?" he asked, handing me a cup.

I accepted the tea, considering my words carefully. "Intelligent. Ambitious. Progressive views but practical about political realities. She wears the perfect noble mask in public, but there's fire underneath."

"Marriage potential?"

And there it was. The real question.

I sipped my tea, deliberately taking my time. "Not sure. We've arranged to meet again next week. Here, this time."

"She's coming to our estate?"

"Her idea, actually. Wants to continue our discussion in a more... private setting."

A small, satisfied smile spread across his face. This was exactly what he wanted to hear. 

"Excellent." He set his cup down. "I'll ensure the house is prepared appropriately. Your mother will want to meet her."

"I'd prefer to keep it informal," I said quickly. "Academic discussion, nothing more. At least for now."

"Of course." His tone made it clear he didn't believe me for a second. "Just academic."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't start planning the wedding yet. We've had one dinner."

"One dinner that ended with an invitation to our home and plans for collaborative magical research." His smile turned knowing. "You could do worse for a political match."

"Speaking of political matters," I said, deciding the moment had arrived. "I've been thinking about my future role in the family."

Father's expression shifted subtly—a slight narrowing of the eyes, a barely perceptible straightening of his posture. He recognized the shift in conversation, the careful positioning.

"Go on."

I set my teacup aside, leaning forward. "I'm seventeen now. More than old enough to begin building my own power base."

"You're referring to a peerage."

"Yes."

The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken considerations. Father had been reluctant to discuss this topic, always finding reasons to delay. Too young, he'd say. Not experienced enough. The political climate wasn't right.

"You've shown considerable progress in your training," he said finally. "Your shadow manipulation has advanced beyond what I expected at your age."

"But?" I prompted, hearing the unspoken qualification.

"But a peerage is not merely a collection of chess pieces, Dante. It's a responsibility. A commitment to those under your protection and guidance."

"I understand that."

"Do you?" His voice sharpened. "Once the bond is formed, it cannot be broken without significant consequences. The ones you choose will be tied to you, their fates intertwined with yours."

I met his gaze directly. "I'm not asking for toys, Father. I'm asking for the tools to build our family's future."

Something in my words seemed to catch him off guard. He studied me with renewed attention, as if seeing something unexpected.

"What kind of peerage do you envision?" he asked, his tone more curious than challenging now.

"One without restrictions." I held his gaze. "I need freedom to select members based on potential, not current status or conventional expectations."

Father's eyebrows rose slightly. "You have specific candidates in mind already."

It wasn't a question.

"Perhaps." I smiled thinly. "But I'd prefer to keep my options open."

He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the armrest as he considered. The shadows in the corner of the room seemed to deepen, responding to his contemplation.

"Your timing is interesting," he said finally. "Ajuka Beelzebub has recently refined the Evil Piece system a few years ago. The new sets are said to be more adaptive to potential rather than current power levels."

My pulse quickened. This was more than I'd expected—not just permission, but information I could use. "When will they be available?"

"They've been distributed to eligible young devils already. I could arrange for a set to be allocated to you." His eyes locked with mine. "If you're certain you're ready."

"I am."

"Then I have conditions." He raised one finger. "First, you will maintain your studies and training. A peerage is an addition to your responsibilities, not a replacement for them."

"Agreed."

"And second..." His expression turned serious. "Whatever your plans, Dante, remember that everything you do now reflects on House Valac. We cannot afford missteps."

The weight of family expectation hung heavy in his words. For all his rigid formality, Father carried the burden of our declining house on his shoulders. Every decision, every alliance, every political move calculated to restore what had been lost.

"I understand." I met his gaze steadily. "I won't disappoint you."

Something flashed across his face—an emotion I couldn't quite identify. Pride? Concern? Perhaps both.

"Very well." He nodded once, decision made. "I'll begin the arrangements tomorrow. The Evil Pieces should be yours within the week."

"Thank you, Father." I kept my voice measured, hiding the depth of my excitement.

He waved a dismissive hand. "You've earned this opportunity. Now you must prove you deserve it."

The conversation shifted to administrative details—the formal registration process, the legal responsibilities, the potential political implications. Throughout, I maintained the appropriate level of attentiveness, asking relevant questions and accepting his advice with apparent gratitude.

The pieces were falling into place faster than I'd anticipated. The Astaroth connection. My own peerage. The freedom to begin building power on my terms.

As our discussion concluded, Father stood, signaling the end of our meeting. I rose as well, preparing to take my leave.

"Dante," he said as I reached the door. "Your mother believes there's more to you than you reveal to the world." A slight smile touched his lips. "I'm beginning to think she's right."

I paused, unsure how to respond to this unexpected observation. "Mother always was perceptive."

"Indeed." His eyes held mine for a moment longer. "Good night, son."

"Good night, Father."

I closed the door behind me, exhaling slowly as I stepped into the hallway. That had gone better than expected. Much better.

Ariel waited at the end of the corridor, her posture perfect as always. She fell into step beside me as I headed toward my wing of the mansion.

"Success?" she asked quietly.

"Beyond expectations." I couldn't keep the satisfaction from my voice. "I'll have my Evil Pieces within the week."

Her eyes widened fractionally—the closest she came to visible surprise. "Congratulations, Young Master."

"Things are accelerating, Ariel." I glanced at her as we walked. "Are you ready?"

"Always." No hesitation, no uncertainty. Just absolute loyalty.

We reached my chambers, where she paused at the threshold as I entered. The familiar space welcomed me—bookshelves crammed with texts, a large desk covered in notes and diagrams, comfortable furniture arranged for both study and relaxation.

"Will you need anything else tonight?" she asked from the doorway.

I turned to face her, allowing a genuine smile. "No. Get some rest. We have planning to do tomorrow."

She bowed slightly, her long hair falling forward like a curtain of midnight. "As you wish. Good night, Dante."

"Good night, Ariel."

As the door closed behind her, I moved to my desk, pulling out a small key from my pocket. The bottom drawer unlocked with a soft click, revealing a leather-bound journal—my private notes, written in a code of my own devising.

I opened it to a fresh page, picking up a pen.

Phase One secured. Evil Pieces incoming. Astaroth connection progressing faster than anticipated.

I paused, tapping the pen against the paper.

Time to begin the real game.