CHAPTER 495: CHAPTER 489: A SCARLET MAP

The chamber they had chosen was not ceremonial but functional: a long conference table of dark stone, smooth screens embedded at intervals, and the faint pulse of ether conduits running like veins along the walls. Outside the tall windows, the Capital glowed in tiers of light, towers threaded with luminous currents that hummed like a city alive.

Cain Canmore entered with a measured step, his blond hair brushed to perfect order, violet eyes calm behind a diplomat’s composure. He bowed once, formally, and deep enough to honor rank without debasing himself.

"Your Majesties," he greeted.

Damian inclined his head once, already seated at the head of the table, suit cut sharp across his shoulders. Beside him, Gabriel sat with equal gravity, the dark sheen of his jacket precise, his expression poised and steady. The empress’s presence did not echo Damian’s fire but complemented it, adding measured clarity to his steel. Together, they carried the quiet certainty of rule that never required raising of voices.

"Lord Canmore," Gabriel said first, his voice smooth and professional. "We received your king’s request. Please, speak."

Cain stepped forward, placing a sleek case on the table, its holoscreen unfolding to display maps of Wrohan’s territories. Ether veins glowed in pale light across their mountains, a wealth of energy without form.

"Our ether runs wild," Cain began. "They power much, but they destroy more. We ask for your guidance and for your technology in storage and distribution. Wrohan seeks partnership." He paused for a moment. "We understand the Empire’s reluctance to work with Wrohan after the fall of Emperor Goliath, but we also believe that this would benefit both parties enough so that the past would remain past."

Damian’s golden eyes shifted from the holoscreen to the envoy, steady and unreadable. He didn’t flinch at the name, though the weight of it settled in the chamber like an echo. "History does not vanish, Duke Canmore. It shapes the ground we walk on. But it does not have to decide the road forward, so long as the path is clear."

Gabriel’s fingers rested lightly against the table’s polished surface. "Partnership is possible. But understand this: the Empire does not transfer its core research. Not then, not now, not ever. What we can provide is equipment, stabilizers, storage cores, and regulated conduits, calibrated and maintained by our own engineers. Wrohan will have stability, but it will run through imperial hands."

Cain inclined his head, his violet gaze steady, betraying neither offense nor concession. "Dependency, then. One your rivals will no doubt call control."

Gabriel’s mouth curved faintly, a professional smile that softened the edge of his words. "Call it what they wish. Our duty is not in appearances but in outcomes. Wrohan will have prosperity. The Empire will have security. That is balance."

Damian leaned back, the faint pulse of the ether conduits glinting against his suit cuff as he folded his arms. His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of finality. "Tell your king this: strong neighbors benefit us both. But strength without structure collapses. If Wrohan accepts our terms, it will endure. If not..." His golden gaze lingered a moment, sharp as molten glass, before softening just enough to remain diplomatic. "...then it will remain as it is. The choice is not ours to make."

For a breath, Cain studied the map between them, the pale ether veins glowing like a network of fragile glass. His hands folded neatly at his back, but when he spoke again, his tone had shifted, still formal but more controlled, pressing at the edges of what he could request.

"Your Majesties, if Wrohan accepts this arrangement, we will tie our stability to your engineers, your systems, and your oversight. But my king will expect more than silent reliance. He will ask for written assurances: guarantees that supply will not be interrupted at whim and that maintenance will not become leverage in times of disagreement."

Gabriel’s gaze met his evenly, brown eyes calm but unwavering. "Guarantees are not difficult, Duke Canmore. Contracts can stipulate service continuity, oversight schedules, trade routes, and penalties for breach. But understand, our engineers will always retain final authority. Safety and stability cannot be compromised by politics."

Cain inclined his head, accepting the boundary, though his voice pressed on. "Then perhaps cultural exchange, technical observation? If not schematics, at least a presence, with Wrohan’s scholars allowed to learn alongside your teams, to ensure transparency."

Damian’s golden eyes sharpened, though his tone remained even. "Transparency, yes. Replication, no. Your scholars may observe the systems we install, but only within the framework of use. They will not walk away with blueprints, nor with keys that unlock what we have built. The Empire leads because it has invested in and protected its knowledge. That will not change."

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, a faint smile on his lips; every move Canmore tried only confirmed what they had already expected. "Duke, I understand the necessity of a solution for Wrohan’s ether problems." With a subtle gesture of his hand, the holomap shifted, recalibrating into a color-coded projection, territories awash in layered hues, most of Wrohan stained in volatile red. "This is how the Empire classifies ether, and it is not the same as your system."

Cain stilled, violet eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the display, trying to reconcile the differences.

Gabriel’s voice carried smoothly, professional but unyielding. "The Empire recognizes five categories of ether: white, green, blue, yellow, and red. Red, as you see, is the most unstable, the most volatile. Wrohan’s lands are rich, yes, but they are saturated with the very ether that consumes more than it sustains."

Cain’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained measured. "And yet it fuels us. Without it, Wrohan would not endure."

Damian’s hand tapped once against the table, not impatiently but decisively, drawing Cain’s gaze back from the map. "Red ether fuels collapse as much as it fuels endurance. Without proper containment, it corrodes conduits, destabilizes grids, and burns through channels until nothing remains. You are not asking for prosperity, Duke. You are asking for survival."

For a long moment, Cain said nothing. Then, with care, he inclined his head. "And that survival, you would bind to the Empire’s hands."

Gabriel’s smile deepened slightly, though his eyes stayed sharp. "Wrohan will gain stability where none exists. The Empire will ensure the systems do not fail. That is the truth of this arrangement. If your king accepts it, Wrohan will prosper. If he refuses, then the map you see before you will not change, except to deepen in red."

Cain’s gaze lingered on the projection, the scarlet veins cutting across his homeland like fire beneath the earth. His shoulders straightened, the diplomat’s composure reasserting itself, though the flicker of tension in his violet eyes betrayed how close the Empire had pressed to Wrohan’s weakness.

"I will bring this back to my king," he said quietly. "And he will know that Wrohan’s choices are narrowing."

Damian’s golden eyes held his steadily, with no triumph in them, only certainty. "Then you will have served him well."