The Legendary Mage (Alavin)
Chapter 380

No one truly knew how many mighty warriors the Iron clan possessed. They were scattered across the realms, polishing their magic and rarely returning home. Only when a member of the Iron clan fell prey to treachery did they converge from all corners to exact vengeance in force.

"Indeed, over thirty years ago, the White Lion Estate met a grim fate for slaying three valiant kin of the Iron clan. Ten days later, a host of over fifty, armed with iron blades, stormed the estate. Not a soul was spared among the three thousand inhabitants. The Lord of the White Lion Estate was impaled atop the highest peak and drained of his blood. It was a sight most ghastly to behold. In those days, the White Lion Estate was a renowned power, scarcely less formidable than Amber Valley now.

"Since their rise, the Iron clan has built their fearsome reputation on such ruthless acts. Their infamy is not confined to the Northlands; they have wrought tragedies in other domains as well. Throughout the Royal Realm, the name of the Iron clan is one to be reckoned with. I never imagined they would venture here and in such numbers."

"I recall now, the Iron clan held their family council last month! Every two years, kin from all over gather for this event, then resume their wanderings. They must have just concluded their council when they received the news and hurried here."

The sudden involvement of the Iron clan also alarmed the Eight Orders Commanders and the Five Lords.

"The Iron clan!" They were well aware of the Iron clan's might, and even the face of the Stellar Precepts Commander grew solemn. He saw the patriarch of the Iron clan, their top warriors-nearly all the notable names had come.

It was rare for them to meddle in the Northlands' affairs, and they never interfered with the doings between the Eight Orders and the Five Lords before. Today marked an unprecedented first. "Lord Iron, I trust you are well," greeted the Stellar Precepts Commander with a light smile.

In the wilderness, at the forefront of the Iron clan's ranks, was a formidable man with a greatsword slung over his shoulder. His strides were sure, his features stern yet striking, exuding innate authority. His wild mane fluttered about, and his narrow eyes glinted sharply through the tangles of hair. With a mere cold lift of his gaze, he disregarded the others, leading his kin toward Stormcast.

"Lord Iron, this matter concerns the Eight Orders and the Five Lords. You would do well to remain uninvolved," warned the Hidden Essence Commander coldly. "You may be powerful, but not more so than the Eight Orders, nor the Five Lords. This is not your stage for arrogance."

The Iron clan's patriarch halted, casting a sideways chilling look toward the sky, as behind him, his clansmen gripped their war blades tighter, poised to lift them in unison, their aura growing even more formidable.

The Hidden Essence Commander furrowed his brow deeply. After a tense standoff, he said no more.

The Iron clan's patriarch stared him down a moment longer, then continued on with his people toward Stormcast.

"The Iron clan of the Northlands, as imposing as ever," murmured an Elder from the Blessed Citadel, perched atop the Sunfire Lion. As the overseer of the Northlands, he had dealt with the Iron clan years ago and investigated their true strength. They were a family as mighty as any royal house, with myriad connections both within the Northlands and without. No one knew the full extent of their ties to the solitary practitioners and recluses of the hidden world.

As the Iron clan's procession neared Stormcast, the Archmages above grew tense, sensing an opportunity. Should the Iron clan intervene, they could exploit the chaos to strike. The more tumultuous, the better. The victor would be whoever seized Alavin.

The Five Lords signaled each other, ready to advance or retreat as one.

The Stellar Precepts Commander, the Hidden Essence Commander, and the Skyborne Rivers Commander reached an unspoken agreement. Should a true battle erupt, regardless of who took Alavin, they would join forces to handle the situation; no single power could escape with Alavin unscathed otherwise.

As the air outside the city bristled with drawn swords and nocked crossbows, a hearty laugh suddenly rang from the southern gate of the ancient city. "Cedrick, my apologies for the wait. Esteemed members of the Iron clan, greetings."

Balder stood upon the battlements, saluting with a fist from afar.

"Open the gates, and welcome our guests." Lucan himself pushed open the massive southern gate, lowering the drawbridge to greet the approaching Iron clan.

From within their ranks, Cedrick strode forth, leading the patriarch and the clan elders across the bridge and into the ancient city under watchful eyes.

At that moment, the faces of the Archmages in the sky turned a most interesting shade as they realized the Iron clan had been summoned as Alavin's allies. This complication was unexpected indeed! Onlookers from afar buzzed with excitement, murmuring among themselves. It seemed the Iron clan had been invited. Such honor Stormcast had, to call upon them.