You and I both know a thousand master blacksmiths could cripple even an empire. And yet your father would give them all—for you. Come home, Alexandria.”
Alexander stretched out his hand, his eyes full of yearning.
“I carry the heir of this dukedom,” Sapphira said, resting a hand on her stomach. “Its future grows in my womb. I cannot follow you to an uncertain land, and I will not leave Asher’s side.”
She blinked calmly as Alexander’s expression twisted. “Judging by your emotions, you covet me. Or perhaps you believe you have a claim—betrothed by the emperor you say is my father?”
Alexander’s eyes trembled.
Mia’s gaze darkened.
“This will lead to war,” Alexander said, voice low but edged with steel. “This dominion will fall. Is that what you want?”
Sapphira’s brow creased. “You would threaten my house?”
“You’re not thinking clearly. You were born to be queen, not some man’s bed warmer!” he snapped, barely restraining himself.
Sapphira rose from the throne, calm but cold. “A queen? And yet you would drag me away only to warm your bed?” She turned to Omar. “I’ve heard enough. My house is open to alliance, but not to insult.”
At her command, the Scarlet Knights stepped forward. The clink of their armor echoed like a warning through the hall.
“You are meant to lead us,” Alexander shouted as he was forced back. “Millions await their queen—and you cast them aside!”
As the doors closed behind him, he turned one last time, his parting words freezing her in place.
When silence returned, Mia stepped closer. “Don’t let him into your head.”
Sapphira squinted, her gaze sharp and steady—yet behind those calm eyes, a fire still raged. “I do yearn to see my family,” she murmured, her voice soft, but resolute, “but not at the expense of the one I’ve chosen.”
She turned to Aquila, her presence commanding even in the gentle lamplight.
“Asher summoned the legions to bolster their forces, didn’t he?”
Aquila dipped her head in affirmation. “Certainly.”
Sapphira’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. She stepped down from the throne platform with a deliberate grace, each echoing click of her heels against the marble floor reverberating like a countdown to fate.
“We have no need to fear their armies,” she said, the words tasting like fire and steel.
As they made their way down the corridor, with columns lining the shadow-drenched hall, Mia broke the silence.
“You carry the heir to the Dukedom,” she said gently. “This domain can’t do without you. I think it’s time the world knew.”
Behind them, Aquila’s steps slowed. Her brows furrowed.
“You’re mistaken, Mia,” she said firmly. “This domain can’t do without its duke. And there are countless women with the same womb I carry—yourself included.” She glanced at her gently. “This child… this life inside of me is a privilege, not a right. One I will not wield like a weapon.”
Mia blinked, caught off guard by the tenderness beneath the rebuke.
Elsewhere, some moments later…
The creak of the heavy oak door pierced the hush of a cavernous chamber. Three cloaked figures stepped inside, the flickering torchlight at their backs casting long shadows that slithered across the stone floor.
The one in the middle pulled back his hood, revealing a face sculpted by beauty but twisted by fury. Alexander’s jaw clenched, eyes like a storm.
“She didn’t listen to me,” he growled, locking eyes with the looming silhouette seated at the end of the round table.
The figure was vast, his outline barely visible in the thick gloom. A faint glimmer of white fur caught the last trace of light before the door closed behind them, plunging the room into darkness.
“She was taken as a babe,” said a gravelly voice—Gerald, the nameless knight—leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Did you really expect her to bend so easily?”
“So, negotiation was never an option.” Alexander sat with a heavy thud, folding his arms. “What do you propose?”
Gerald stepped forward, the shadows peeling away just enough to reveal part of his scarred face. “We do as the humans once did. According to prophecy, Alexandria must rule if we are to see more centuries of prosperity. And while this human lord is… unique, we cannot let sentiment cloud our purpose.”
“Unique?” Alexander’s voice cracked with contempt. “He should be castrated, beheaded, and hanged—his corpse left swinging in the wind as a warning to all who would dare lie in the queen’s bed. And worse—impregnate her.”
Gerald staggered. “W-What?! Then we have no time left. We take her—by force, if we must. Once she returns to Cyrenia, these human delusions will be stripped from her mind.”
Alexander leaned back, a cruel smile flickering across his lips. “Good. And the knights? The ones you mentioned?”
“They’ve all departed, oddly enough. Perhaps on some mission. That leaves us a window. There are still 8,000 saint-ranked knights within the city, but if we move quickly—strike at the lord’s residence and vanish—we’ll be ghosts before they can respond.”
Alexander’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “When do we begin?”
Gerald crossed his arms again, voice low and calculated. “We’ll need to study the estate—its patterns, defenses, movements. Give me time.”
Alexander gave a slow nod, his patience thinning. “Then let the clock begin ticking.”
____
Meanwhile, back at the azure bay, Asher after touring the city ship, decided to establish estate ships. But he did not expect them to look like this.
A ship surging through the sea like a floating bastion, its wide hull carved with old Tenaria runes that pulsed faintly beneath layers of lacquered steel and painted crests. It wasn’t merely a warship—it was an Estate Ship, a drifting dominion of nobility and power.
Tall towers and parapets rose from its deck like the rooftops of a palace, their whitewashed stones gleaming in the light, while banners snapped in the wind, bearing the heraldry of a ruling house.
These Estate Ships were more than vessels—they were movable fiefs, complete with courts, treasuries, gardens, and armories. A colony in motion, eternally seeking unclaimed shores, hidden archipelagos, and isles ripe for cultivation or conquest. Within its walls lived a full retinue of servants, soldiers, stewards, and scribes, all sworn to the noble whose bloodline gave the ship its name.
Massive paddlewheels churned at the flanks, stirring up foam in their wake, while the hull’s base housed entire districts—granaries, smithies, and even sanctums where rune-keepers whispered over the etched glyphs that powered the ship’s vast engines. Each rune was a gift of ancient Tenaria, bound into the vessel by blood and oath, and humming with a life of its own.
Everyone on the bay had been transported to these ships. Each is given new professions and decades of memory to adjust to their new home.
With the city ship and the estate ships, Kryos sea would soon know of a rising faction. A powerful one with a unique set of ships never seen since the beginning of time!