Golden light pierced the marbled halls of the Eastern Empire's inner sanctum. Towers shimmered in the morning sun as banners bearing the Phoenix crest danced in the wind.
Within the Imperial Court — a grand hall adorned with obsidian pillars, silken banners, and gold inlays — Emperor Rudra Nam Ul Nasca sat upon a raised platform, the Throne of Ascendancy, legs crossed, fingers clasped together.
Beside him stood the blazing scarlet dragon in human form — Velgrynd, arms folded, her eyes narrowed with anticipation.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors creaked open.
"Enter," Rudra's voice echoed across the marble floor before the guards even announced the guests.
His six envoys strode in confidently, led by Lorvik, who knelt before the emperor and placed his right fist to his heart in salute.
"We return, Your Radiance," Lorvik began, voice sharp, unwavering. "King Gazel Dwargo has received your decree. He awaits your arrival in three days' time and has begun preparations."
Rudra didn't speak right away. He leaned back in his throne, eyes scanning Lorvik as if trying to read beyond the words.
"And his expression?" Rudra asked quietly.
Lorvik smirked faintly. "Surprised, but respectful. And curious. He did not hesitate. I believe he suspects the nature of your visit."
Velgrynd scoffed softly, her crimson eyes glinting. "Gazel is sharp. Not the type to grovel or panic. That's why you always respected him, wasn't it?"
Rudra gave a small nod. "Yes. Among mortal kings, he's one of the few who has walked through fire and emerged stronger."
He stood then — the court fell silent.
"Prepare the sky cruiser," Rudra said. "We depart on the morning of the third day."
The court stirred. Servants immediately rushed to their tasks. Generals bowed in acknowledgment. Lorvik and his team remained kneeling.
"You've done well, Lorvik," Rudra added. "Rest until the hour of departure."
"Yes, my Emperor."
As the envoy exited, Velgrynd approached Rudra, her voice low and teasing. "You're really going through with this, huh?"
Rudra turned to her, something ancient and heavy in his gaze. "This world is shifting. Nyvaris… Varvatos… even Velzard being there… it all ties together."
Velgrynd raised an eyebrow. "You're not usually this cautious."
"I'm not cautious," Rudra replied calmly. "I'm being strategic. There's a difference."
She smirked. "And here I thought you were doing this because you missed Gazel's wine."
He laughed — a real, hearty laugh. "That too."
The sun rose slowly over the Eastern Empire, casting golden hues across its endless horizon. At the Imperial Sky Dock, a massive floating platform shaped like a lotus hovered above the capital, tethered by magic and reinforced by technology only Rudra's empire possessed.
Docked at the edge was the Solar Phoenix, a sleek, crimson-gold sky cruiser — the pride of the empire. Its wings shimmered like molten glass, powered by cores of divine energy.
Velgrynd stood at the ramp, already dressed in an elegant white-and-scarlet battle robe, arms crossed.
"You're late," she muttered as Rudra finally ascended the stairs, wearing royal black-and-silver armor beneath a flowing crimson cloak.
"I was speaking with Kondou," he said casually. "He's skeptical about this meeting."
"Of course he is. He always thinks people want to stab you in the back."
"He's not wrong," Rudra chuckled. "But I've lived long enough to know who won't."
They both stepped aboard the cruiser as engines began to hum and glow.
Below, dozens of imperial guards bowed in unison. Generals Kondou and Damrada watched silently from the cliffside.
Damrada approached Kondou, speaking in a low tone. "Do you truly believe this trip is dangerous?"
Kondou narrowed his eyes. "Not dangerous. But consequential. Every time Rudra moves personally, the world shifts. This meeting... it's going to change the course of something. I can feel it."
The Solar Phoenix sliced through clouds with grace and speed. Inside the cruiser's observation deck, Rudra and Velgrynd sat opposite each other, sipping from crystalline goblets of infused nectar.
Velgrynd leaned back. "You've changed, Rudra."
"Oh?"
"You used to be reckless. Send armies to level nations. Crush those who dared rise too fast. Now look at you—asking for meetings."
He chuckled. "There's wisdom in watching. Crushing something doesn't always stop it from growing. Sometimes… it only makes it evolve."
She regarded him for a moment, her voice softer. "You didn't send angels to Nyvaris… was that your new wisdom too?"
Rudra looked out the window, where mountains stretched beneath them.
"Something told me not to," he whispered. "It was a feeling... like the wind had shifted. Like the world didn't want that outcome."
She didn't push further. She only nodded. "That's rare for you. Trusting instinct."
He looked back at her, smiling faintly. "I guess I've finally learned to listen."
They rode the skies in silence after that — not a silence of distance, but one shared between two ancient beings who had long since passed the need for constant words.
Ahead, the towering spires of Dwargon came into view — glittering stone rising from the heart of the mountains like the crown of an ancient titan.
Rudra stood and placed a hand on his sword hilt.
"Let's go meet a king."
The skies above Dwargon rippled as the Solar Phoenix descended slowly, its engines whispering with suppressed power. Dwarven guards stationed at the towering gates stood in neat formation — not as a show of force, but as a mark of honor.
King Gazel Dwargo, clad in his ceremonial war cloak, stood tall upon the eastern platform, flanked by his closest generals — Dolf, Vester, and the elite Ironblade Guard. Behind them, a small welcoming party of dwarven nobility observed quietly.
"Here they come," Dolf muttered under his breath as the cruiser landed softly upon the reinforced stone pad.
Gazel narrowed his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. "It's been centuries… but that presence is unmistakable."
The ramp of the Solar Phoenix extended smoothly with a hiss of steam.
First to emerge was Velgrynd. Her crimson hair shimmered like fire, eyes sharp, yet calm. She descended slowly, gaze sweeping the reception with the quiet authority of a being who had seen the rise and fall of empires.
Behind her came Rudra Nam Ul Nasca — not in kingly regalia, but in his sleek imperial armor, lined with red runes and silver cresting his shoulders. His eyes met Gazel's instantly.
No words yet. Just the weight of memory, of shared battlefields and unspoken respect.
Gazel stepped forward, his heavy boots clinking against the stone.
"Emperor Rudra," he said, voice deep as thunder through a mountain cavern, "Dwargon welcomes you."
Rudra gave a small nod. "King Gazel. It's been a long time."
"Aye," Gazel replied with a faint smirk. "Too long. I see you still enjoy your dramatic entrances."
Rudra chuckled. "And you still greet people like a war general preparing for a siege."
That earned a snort from Velgrynd, arms still folded as she eyed the guards. "At least you dwarves keep it simple. I prefer this to parades and fireworks."
"We're not a nation of pomp," Gazel replied firmly. "We're a nation of iron and honor."
He stepped aside, gesturing toward the gates.
"Come. You're my guests. You'll be treated as such."
Rudra and Velgrynd followed without hesitation. As they walked, Dolf leaned closer to Gazel, whispering, "He's not here for pleasantries, is he?"
"No," Gazel replied under his breath. "He's here for something big."
Unlike most royal halls, Dwargon's was carved entirely from bedrock — with vaulted ceilings, glowing crystal sconces, and thick, rune-etched pillars. The air smelled of earth and metal, humming faintly with magical protection.
Rudra stood at the base of the dais, looking up at the throne he'd once challenged in war long ago.
"I almost forgot how sturdy everything is in this place," he mused aloud.
"We build things to last," Gazel replied, descending from the throne to meet him at eye level.
"No throne games then?" Rudra asked.
Gazel raised an eyebrow. "You're not here to test my mettle. You want something."
Rudra didn't flinch. "Information. And a favor."
Velgrynd turned toward one of the stone columns, her voice casual but edged with weight. "It's about Varvatos."
The entire room shifted. Even Dolf's breath caught in his throat.