CHAPTER 128: CHAPTER 127. FLEETS FROM AERTHYSIA

Borgia Emperor’s Office, Royal Palace

It had been four months since Vivianne gave birth, and Seraphyne had grown more expressive, more aware, and more interactive than before. She’s getting bigger and rounder, her tiny limbs filling out with the healthy softness of a well-loved infant.

What fascinated Roxanne the most is simply how breathtaking her daughter is. That impossible silver hair, soft as moonlight, stood in sharp, enchanting contrast to her crimson demon eyes.

The nobles are desperate to see her. To meet the child born of two legacies: the spirit-bearer’s omega mother and the mixed demon blood alpha mother. They whispered among themselves that something so terrifying in theory shouldn’t be able to look so beautiful. And yet Seraphyne did.

However, Roxanne and Vivianne already told everyone that all the nobles can see their daughter when she turns one year old. On her first birthday, and before that, no one is allowed to visit Seraphyne in the royal palace.

Roxanne is smiling quietly to herself, thinking of her wife and daughter, when the knock on her office door breaks her thoughts. Gerhard stepped inside. His expression was unreadable, far too still for a man who’s usually composed but never blank.

"What is it?" Roxanne asked immediately, instincts sharpening.

"We’ve received news from Viscount Borrough’s territory," Gerhard said. "From the shoreline. They’ve sighted two large fleets approaching our port. It seems they’re from another continent."

Roxanne frowned. "Which one?"

"I believe they come from Aerthysia," he replied.

"What makes you so sure?" she pressed.

"They reported seeing elves aboard the ships," Gerhard said, "and humans. And... I don’t think they’re here for war." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Both fleets are flying white flags."

Roxanne stilled.

For a heartbeat, the only sound in the room is the faint ticking of the ornate clock on the wall. "Two fleets from Aerthysia..." she murmured, sitting forward. "And flying white flags."

"Yes," Gerhard confirmed. "The Viscount’s men reported no signs of attack formations. No siege equipment. No war horns. Their sails are marked with sigils belonging to the High Elven Court and the Human Kingdom of Aerthysia."

Roxanne raised an eyebrow. "Those two? Sailing together? They’ve been at each other’s throats since creation."

"That," Gerhard said quietly, "is perhaps why their arrival should concern us."

Roxanne tapped a finger slowly against the table. "What else?"

Gerhard hesitated, rare and never a good sign. "One more thing, Your Highness... they saw the fleets’ condition. Damage on hulls, burn marks on the masts. And the passengers—visibly fewer than what the ships should carry."

Roxanne’s eyes sharpened. "They fled something."

Gerhard nodded once. "That is my assumption." A foreign threat is approaching Kaelindor, yet not as enemies but as supplicants.

Roxanne stood, hands clasped behind her back, gaze drifting to the large window overlooking the imperial garden. The last rays of sunset glinted against the glass, bathing her office in a crimson-gold glow, almost the same shade as Seraphyne’s eyes.

She exhaled slowly. "Prepare a diplomatic welcome," she finally said. "But keep the Royal Guard on standby. I won’t have strangers stepping on our shores unmonitored. Get Sir Mara to guard."

"Yes, Your Highness." Gerhard said.

"And send word to the Fenclade and Erevalis," Roxanne added. "Have Wyndham come to the palace."

Gerhard hesitated again, not with fear, but with the weight of information yet unspoken. Roxanne narrowed her eyes. "Speak."

"...There is one more report," he admitted. "From the mages stationed along the coast. They said the fleets were... being chased."

Roxanne’s body tensed. "By what?"

-

Not long after Gerhard stepped out of the room, Roxanne turned her head toward Red. "Have Marvessa arrange for the Shadow Knights to go to the port with Mara."

After being crowned emperor, Marvessa returned to her position as the head of the Shadow Knight unit assigned to the imperial family. But her focus has only been on the empress, as she already declared her as her master. She devoted herself almost entirely to protecting Vivianne and Seraphyne.

The elders and the people of Elderglen still struggled to believe that Marvessa had managed to break free from the ancient curse that bound their bloodline to the royal family, an enchantment that once prevented them from harming the royals and forced them to obey every decree, no matter how cruel.

Marvessa had begged her master, Vivianne, to help her sever the curse, not for herself alone, but for the people of Elderglen. Not the entire bond, but enough to grant them choice.

Enough so they could question a royal command if it meant marching toward death. Enough so no one from Elderglen would be forced into another suicidal mission in the name of loyalty they never asked for.

And all the omegas and alphas born in Elderglen, the unwanted ones, had been sent to the orphanage under Duke Gerhard’s care. Even if they held no "use" in Elderglen, the curse of Erengard blood still ran through their veins, binding them in ways they never chose.

Roxanne carried that same Erengard blood within her, despite choosing Borgia as the name of her new empire. Which makes Gerhard think that all the children from Elderglen are as important as the beta ones.

She tapped her fingers lightly on the armrest. "Tell Marvessa not to show force unless necessary," she added. "But I want eyes on everything."

Red bowed his head. "Understood, your highness."

Once Red left the room, Roxanne exhaled softly and rose from her chair. Her mind is already moving all over the place. If two fleets came all the way from Aerthysia, and if elves and humans were openly showing themselves under a white flag, then something far more complicated was unfolding across the sea.

She stepped out of her office and made her way down to the imperial grand library. "I need additional information," she muttered to herself.

The moment she entered, the scent of parchment and ink wrapped around her. Shelves towered like ancient trees, carrying centuries of recorded knowledge: wars, treaties, myths, disasters, histories of races long gone, and civilizations that had risen and collapsed in silence.

The scholars of the empire had always regarded the outer continents with a mixture of caution and indifference. Harsh currents, unforgiving storms, and a belt of violent, unpredictable weather circled those distant lands like a living barrier.

Even demons, with all their arcane mastery, rarely dared to cross those waters. Beastmen saw no reason to test the sea’s wrath. Werewolves simply didn’t care enough to try.

Aerthysia, for all its noted beauty, remained little more than a vague whisper beyond the horizon. A continent painted in scattered tales: fertile valleys, forests shimmering with elven magic, and human kingdoms rising and collapsing in their endless quarrels.

Beautiful and peaceful in fleeting moments, but always divided. Humans and elves forever picking fights with each other over land, pride, or old grudges that refused to die. Kaelindor knew Aerthysia existed. They simply never bothered to care deeply about it.

But Calonia—that was different.

Calonia was the true unknown, a land spoken of only in fragmented theories and ancient accounts rubbed thin by time. A place the storms protected too fiercely, where even spirits refused to look. No reliable map existed. No sailor had ever claimed to reach its shores and return whole. If Aerthysia was a distant neighbor, Calonia was the continent the world collectively pretended didn’t exist.

So when the two massive fleets arrived at Kaelindor’s shores, human and elven banners raised, white flags fluttering, they could no longer ignore what lay beyond their waters.

If somehow or something is finally out from Calonia, they don’t have any information about it. Nothing.

Roxanne reached the section on foreign races and pulled out several thick tomes. Dust rose as she laid them on a table, flipping one open. Humans.

She skimmed the pages and almost snorted.

Humans are universally regarded as the weakest race. They had none of the brute strength that beastmen or werewolves wielded naturally. Their bodies are fragile, easily wounded, and easily destroyed.

They couldn’t form spiritual bonds the way Kaelindor’s royal bloodlines could. And compared to demons, whose magic flowed as naturally as breathing, human magic is barely a flickering candle.

But what they lacked in power, they compensated with something far more dangerous: persistence.

Humans are cunning, adaptable, and desperate enough to claw their way out of any corner. Their minds worked quickly, their political maneuvering was infamous, and once they wanted something, they rarely let go.

They built cities in barren lands. They created weapons to rival magic. And when faced with threats beyond them, humans united with terrifying speed. That, Roxanne thought, made them worth watching.

She turned to another Chapter. Elves.

If humans are fragile, elves are even more so. Their stamina was nearly nonexistent, their bodies delicate and finely tuned, more suited for ancient forests or academic halls than the battlefield. But they possessed magic that rivaled demons.

For centuries, elves stood among the most gifted wielders of raw arcane power. Their lifespans stretched beyond centuries, granting them wisdom and patience other races rarely achieved. Their magic isn’t just powerful; it’s elegant, precise, and terrifyingly efficient when used with intent.

Humans and elves had always been at odds, their histories littered with border conflicts, territorial wars, and ideological feuds. For them to appear together, united, under a white flag. Roxanne tapped the table once, jaw tightening.

They were fleeing something. And whatever had driven two ancient enemies to ally, abandon their own continent, and cross a deathly ocean was powerful enough to shatter Aerthysia’s pride.

Roxanne closed the last book and set it aside. "I need to see if Leonhart and Father have any information about Calonia." With a final glance at the open tomes, maps drawn from memory, half-believed travel accounts, and contradictory theories about the storm belt, she pushed her chair back and rose.

She quickened her pace.

Two maids bowed as she passed; she barely registered them. Vivianne needed to hear this; the spirit kings might have some information about Calonia. She reached the empress’s wing. The guards straightened. The scent of fresh paper, ink, and faint lavender drifted from behind the heavy double doors.

Roxanne pushed them open gently.

Vivianne looked up from her desk, silver hair cascading over her shoulder, her beautiful light purple eyes staring at her with worry. "You look troubled," Vivianne said immediately, setting aside her quill.

Roxanne exhaled, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. "I have news," she said quietly. "And you need to hear all of it."