Outside the branch of the NAA in the heart of Vanima, the atmosphere shifted rapidly from curious murmurs to a swelling wave of interest. Dozens of citizens, drawn by the sudden concentration of royal guards, began to gather near the marble steps of the grand building. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind rustling through leaves, their eyes drawn not only to the heavy presence of armor-clad soldiers but to the rare sight of the two princesses of Alariel standing together in public.
"It's Princess Elaria... and Princess Arwen too!"
"Why are they here? What's going on?"
Their questions hung unanswered, and soon all eyes were fixed on the man standing across from the eldest princess. His imposing figure was clad in an ancient battleplate, worn yet majestic, his stance calm yet filled with an aura of barely restrained power. Many in the crowd couldn't place him—his face unfamiliar, his presence unannounced.
But then, a gust of wind swept through the city square, catching the long cloak on his back. It billowed to the side, revealing the unmistakable insignia stitched across the fabric: a bold crimson cross as the background, with two silver swords crossing in an X at the center. It was the mark of the Heartless Guild—the founding faction of the Republic. This emblem had become the national symbol, a banner of freedom and strength, forged in the fires of war and sacrifice. To the people, it represented the salvation that had freed them from chains, a living memory of the warriors who had shattered tyranny and reshaped the world.
Gasps rose from the crowd.
"The Heartless insignia..."
"Could it be...? One of the High Elders?"
"That man... he's a hero from the Liberation Wars!"
A wave of awe swept over the growing crowd as realization dawned on them. Many of the older elves whispered his name with reverence, while the younger generation, who had only read about the Heartless Guild in historical texts or heard tales passed down from veterans, stared in wide-eyed wonder.
Yet what stunned them most was not just the insignia, or even his armor—it was the way their beloved Princess Elaria stood before him. Not with the regal distance of a royal, but with deep familiarity... and emotion. Her hand gently rested on his chestplate, her expression a blend of joy, sorrow, and love long held in silence.
And in that moment, the people of Vanima knew—they were witnessing something far greater than a simple reunion. They were seeing a legend return from silence. A piece of their history standing once again in the heart of the elven realm. And beside him stood their radiant princess, as if no time had passed at all.
The onlookers watched with growing curiosity and awe as Princess Elaria gently reached up and removed the man's helmet. A hush fell over the gathered crowd the moment his face was revealed—strong, noble, and strikingly handsome, even more so than the most beautiful elven men. His crimson eyes gleamed with quiet strength, and his features bore the weight of countless battles and unspoken stories.
For a heartbeat, the square was silent.
Then, among the crowd, one of the elder elves—his voice trembling with disbelief and joy—shouted, "Crimson Aegis!"
As if a dam had broken, more voices followed, echoing the name through the city streets. "Crimson Aegis!" they cried, over and over, until the square erupted into loud cheers and joyous clamor. The younger elves looked around in confusion, but the older ones had tears in their eyes. They remembered. They knew.
The Founding Father of the Heartless Republic.
The hero of the Liberation Wars.
One of the High Elders who had saved their people from slavery.
The national hero of the Alariel Kingdom.
And now, after fifty long years, Crimson Aegis had returned.
Back in the present, Crimson gave a small nod and a quiet smile as he agreed to Princess Elaria's heartfelt request for him to stay the night. The moment he said yes, her face lit up with warmth and joy.
Only then did Crimson truly register the surrounding noise—the swelling cheer of the crowd, voices chanting his name with growing excitement.
"Crimson Aegis! Crimson Aegis!"
Dozens of elves had gathered outside the NAA branch—citizens, merchants, city guards, young warriors, and older veterans alike. Some clapped, others called out, and a few even wept as they beheld the long-lost hero standing once again in their midst.
Crimson turned, facing them with a calm, respectful smile. With one fluid motion, he bowed deeply, returning their admiration with humility and grace. The cheers only grew louder.
Elaria gently touched his armored arm. "You should stay at the Moonveil Palace tonight," she said softly. "And… I want you to meet our mother and father. The High Queen and King would be overjoyed to see you again."
Crimson's eyes softened. "How are they doing?" he asked with genuine interest. "I'm excited to see them both. The last time I was here… Her Majesty was pregnant." A nostalgic look crossed his face as he added, "I'm glad to finally meet the child she carried back then."
As they began to walk, his eyes were drawn to a young woman nearby—silver-white hair like moonlight, eyes just as brilliant as Elaria's, but with a more playful sparkle. She was watching him with open curiosity and a big, cheerful smile.
When their eyes met, she beamed and stepped forward with a light bounce in her step. "So it's really you! I finally get to meet the famous Crimson Aegis in person!" she grinned. "I'm Arwen Moonveil—Elaria's little sister. You probably don't remember, but the last time you were here… well, I wasn't even born yet!"
Crimson chuckled, his voice warm. "I remember Queen Sylthana was with child… I'm glad to see the daughter she brought into the world has grown strong and spirited."
Arwen winked. "Well, someone has to keep up with Elaria."
Elaria rolled her eyes, but there was fondness in her expression as the three of them, Crimson flanked by the two princesses, walked together toward the Palace of Vanima. Behind them, the royal guards followed with discipline, and ahead of them, the cheers of the people still echoed across the city streets.
After the greetings and heartfelt introductions, Crimson walked side by side with Princess Elaria and Princess Arwen, their long cloaks trailing behind them like flowing banners of silver and crimson. The royal guards formed a protective formation around them, with Captain Lythien and her squad leading the way. More soldiers followed close behind, their presence adding weight to the already awe-inspiring procession.
The streets of Vanima came alive with excitement. Citizens lined the path, having quickly spread word of Crimson's return. Elves young and old gathered along the marble-paved roads, some waving, others placing hands over their hearts in solemn respect. Children climbed onto balconies or perched on their parents' shoulders to catch a glimpse of the legendary warrior.
Cheers echoed across the city:
"Welcome back, Crimson Aegis!"
"Glory to the Heartless Republic!"
"Long live the Moonveil family!"
Crimson gave a small, grateful smile to each voice, nodding in acknowledgment. Though his expression remained calm, there was a warmth in his eyes—a subtle but sincere gratitude for the welcome.
As they continued walking, Princess Arwen leaned closer to one of the guards marching beside her. With a commanding, yet composed tone, she gave a clear order.
"Run ahead and inform Their Majesties," she said. "Tell them Crimson Aegis is with us and that we respectfully request an audience at their earliest convenience."
The guard saluted immediately. "Yes, Your Highness!" With swift grace, he broke away from the group, sprinting ahead through the winding avenues of Vanima toward Moonveil Palace.
Elaria glanced at her younger sister and smiled softly. "Thank you, Arwen."
Arwen gave a proud little grin. "They deserve to know right away. After all, it's not every day a legend walks through the gates."
Crimson let out a small chuckle, his voice calm and grounded. "I'm just a man doing what he believes is right."
Elaria looked up at him, her sapphire eyes shining. "To us… you've always been more than that."
As the palace gates began to appear in the distance, the excitement in the air grew even stronger. The guards at the palace walls stood at attention, and more civilians watched with reverence as the trio continued their walk, two royal daughters and the hero who helped free their people, reunited at last.
Once they reach the palace gates, they we're greeted by the servants and row of royal guards welcome them. A high ranking servants that look like a butler welcome them and tell the trio that the High Queen and King awaits them at the throne room where official business are conducting.
Once they reached the grand gates of Moonveil Palace, the scene before them was one of regal elegance and strict formality. The towering white-marble gates slowly opened with a gentle hum of magic, revealing the broad, glistening path that led to the palace proper. Lining both sides of the path were rows of royal guards clad in polished silver armor, their long emerald-green capes fluttering gently in the breeze. As Crimson, Elaria, and Arwen passed, the guards raised their glaives in salute, a silent yet powerful gesture of honor.
Servants stood in neat lines beyond the guards, dressed in the traditional silks of the palace—white and silver with blue embroidery, symbolizing the sacred forests and ancient bloodline of Moonveil. The moment Crimson stepped inside, the entire formation bowed deeply in unison, showing the utmost respect to the returning hero.
At the center of the welcoming party stood an elderly elf with dignified posture and a composed expression. He wore a formal, long-tailed coat of royal silver and forest green, embroidered with the sigils of the royal house. His presence radiated experience and command—clearly a high-ranking steward of the palace.
He stepped forward, placed a hand over his chest, and gave a respectful bow.
"Welcome home, Your Highnesses," he said, his voice smooth and rich. Then he turned his eyes to Crimson. "And to you, Lord Crimson Aegis… the honored hero of Alariel and the Heartless Republic, we offer our deepest respect."
Crimson nodded in return, his tone courteous but calm. "Thank you."
The steward straightened and continued, "Their Majesties, the High Queen Sylthana Moonveil and King Thalorien Moonveil, await your presence in the throne room. They have cleared their schedule for an immediate audience." He motioned with a graceful sweep of his arm. "If you would kindly follow me."
Elaria and Arwen exchanged a quick glance, their excitement and anticipation growing. Crimson gave a short breath through his nose and nodded, his gaze shifting toward the majestic inner halls of the palace.
And with that, the trio began walking once more—this time toward the heart of elven royalty. Toward the throne room. Toward the meeting of a queen and king with the man who had changed the fate of their kingdom forever.
Led by the dignified steward, the trio moved through the majestic halls of Moonveil Palace. The polished marble floors shimmered with reflections of soft lanternlight, and ancient murals depicting elven history adorned the high arched walls. The quiet footsteps of guards and trailing servants echoed behind them, but the weight of what was to come pressed gently on the air.
At last, they reached the towering doors of the throne room—great panels of enchanted silverwood etched with glowing runes and adorned with the crest of House Moonveil. With a nod from the steward, the royal guards stepped forward and opened the doors in solemn unison.
Beyond lay a vast, breathtaking chamber. The ceiling soared high above, enchanted to resemble the open night sky, stars slowly drifting across its surface like a living constellation. White columns lined the hall, twined with silverleaf vines and glowing crystal lanterns. At the far end stood a grand dais, upon which rested two magnificent thrones carved from radiant moonstone and gleaming silver.
Upon the thrones sat the monarchs of Alariel.
High Queen Sylthana Moonveil was the embodiment of timeless grace. Her long, flowing silver hair shimmered like moonlight itself, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. Her eyes, sapphire-blue and wise beyond ages, held a serene yet commanding strength. She watched with quiet anticipation.
Beside her sat King Thalorien Moonveil, his presence equally regal. His long white hair, straight and luminous, framed a face marked by dignity and strength. Though his features bore the calm of a philosopher, there was the unmistakable air of a seasoned warrior beneath his composed demeanor. A circlet of polished silver rested across his brow, symbolizing his authority as the High King of Alariel.
As the group stepped into the chamber, a herald standing near the dais raised his staff and spoke in a formal, ringing voice that echoed through the grand hall:
"Announcing Her Highness, Princess Elaria Moonveil, First Daughter of the Crown. Her Highness, Princess Arwen Moonveil, Second Daughter of the Crown. And accompanying them—"
A pause, filled with reverent silence, passed as all eyes turned toward the third figure—tall, armored, cloaked in deep crimson.
"—Lord Crimson Aegis, Founding Father and High Elder of the Heartless Republic, Hero of the Liberation Wars, and Defender of the Elven People."
The chamber stirred with awe. Older nobles placed hands to their hearts, some whispering his name with disbelief and reverence. The younger elves stared, wide-eyed, witnessing the living legend they'd only heard of in stories.
High Queen Sylthana rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving Crimson. A soft smile touched her lips as her voice, melodic and regal, filled the room:
"Welcome home, Lord Crimson."
King Thalorien stood beside her, his voice resonant and warm.
"Alariel owes you much, and it honors us greatly to see you return."
As Crimson stepped forward with Princess Elaria and Arwen at his side, the past and present converged beneath the starlit dome of the throne room—one era bowing before another, and a long-awaited reunion at last beginning.
Crimson advanced a few steps ahead of the princesses and came to a halt. He did not kneel, but instead gave a deep, respectful bow, placing a hand over his chest in the ancient salute of honor—one warrior to another, one ruler to another. When he straightened, his eyes met the Queen's with calm reverence, and then turned to the King with steady respect.
"Your Majesties," he began, his voice firm and warm, "it is a deep honor to stand once again in the halls of Moonveil. Decades may have passed, but your realm's light has not dimmed. It is as majestic as I remember... and your presence, even more so."
Queen Sylthana gave a gentle, knowing smile, her voice soft like a summer breeze:
"Crimson Aegis... When Arwen told us of your return, my heart dared to hope. I see now that hope was not misplaced. You've not aged a day."
King Thalorien offered a slow nod, his voice low and measured.
"The realm still remembers. The people still chant your name. But I care not for legends—I care for the man who stood with my daughters, sword in hand, when no one else dared to."
He paused.
"Welcome home, Crimson."
Crimson inclined his head again, a flicker of emotion crossing his usually composed face.
"I thank you both. I never forgot what we fought for. I've returned not for glory, but because I believe there are still battles worth facing—and truths that must be protected. I only regret I did not return sooner."
Queen Sylthana's eyes softened as she glanced at Elaria, who stood close beside Crimson.
"Time flows differently for each of us. What matters is that you are here now."
King Thalorien gave a small smile.
"And you are welcome, always. Consider this palace and this realm a home you may return to, whenever you choose."
As the warm moment of reunion settled in the air, a royal aide swiftly approached the dais with urgency in his steps. He bowed low before Queen Sylthana and King Thalorien, clutching a sealed scroll marked with the crest of the border watch.
"Your Majesties," the aide said, his voice tense, "we've received urgent reports from the 1st Army stationed at the western border. It is grave news."
Queen Sylthana's gentle expression shifted, the light in her eyes sharpening.
"Speak."
The aide unrolled the scroll and read aloud:
"A sudden surge of monster activity has been reported along the western borderlands. A massive number of unidentified creatures are appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Early signs suggest they are spilling in from within the Heartless Republic's western territory, but their origin remains unknown. Our forces are monitoring the situation, but there is concern they may soon cross into the lands of the Holy Remia Empire."
Gasps echoed quietly through the chamber.
King Thalorien's jaw tightened.
"If monsters cross into Remian land from our side, it could be seen as a hostile breach… even if unintentional."
"And spark a diplomatic crisis," Queen Sylthana added gravely. "We cannot afford to give the Empire an excuse for retaliation."
As the warm moment of reunion settled in the air, a royal aide swiftly approached the dais with urgency in his steps. He bowed low before Queen Sylthana and King Thalorien, clutching a sealed scroll marked with the crest of the border watch.
"Your Majesties," the aide said, his voice tense, "we've received urgent correspondence from our scouts stationed at the western border. It is grave news."
Queen Sylthana's serene expression shifted, the light in her sapphire eyes sharpening.
"Speak."
The aide unrolled the scroll and read aloud:
"A sudden surge of monster activity has been reported along the western borderlands. A massive number of unidentified creatures are appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Early signs suggest they are spilling in from within the Heartless Republic's western territory, but their origin remains unknown. Our forces are monitoring the situation, but there is concern they may soon cross into the lands of the Holy Remia Empire."
Gasps echoed quietly through the chamber.
King Thalorien's white-haired brow furrowed deeply.
"If these creatures cross into Remian land from our side, it could be perceived as an act of aggression… even if accidental."
"And spark a diplomatic fire we may not be able to put out," Queen Sylthana added, her voice low with concern.
Her gaze slowly turned to Crimson.
"Crimson," she said, her tone gentle but direct, "you didn't speak of your purpose when you arrived. But I ask you now—was this the reason for your return?"
Crimson gave a slow nod, his face composed, but the weight of the moment clear in his eyes.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Word of the anomalies reached the capital of the Republic days ago. I left immediately to investigate the matter myself. These are no natural occurrences. The scale, the suddenness… it all suggests something deeper is at play. I do not believe this is mere coincidence."
King Thalorien leaned forward, his voice firm.
"Then your return was not just fate—but necessity. No warrior alive understands that region like you do. If the origin of this threat lies within our borders, it falls to us to uncover the truth before others make judgments for us."
Queen Sylthana looked at her daughters briefly, then fixed her gaze on Crimson once more.
"We place our faith in you once again. Not only in your strength but in your wisdom. Go to the western frontier. Discover what lies behind this threat and if war can be avoided… let it be so."
Crimson placed a hand over his heart and bowed low.
"You have my word, Your Majesties. I will uncover the truth and ensure our people are not made scapegoats for shadows we did not summon."
The queen gave a thoughtful nod, her silver hair cascading like a veil of moonlight over her shoulders.
"Crimson," she said gently, "you've only just returned after fifty long years. You should remain in Vanima for the night. We will arrange a contingent of royal escorts to accompany you at dawn to the western border. It is too dangerous to go alone."
King Thalorien added with calm authority, "A mission of this weight cannot be carried out without support. Let us provide you the strength of Alariel's blades. We will not have a hero of our realm face this unknown threat unguarded."
Crimson shook his head slowly.
"Your Majesties, I am grateful—but I work best alone. Too many soldiers will only slow the investigation, and I cannot risk delays with what's brewing out there."
Before the king or queen could respond, a familiar voice spoke with quiet but firm determination.
"Then I'll go with him," said Princess Elaria, stepping forward. Her sapphire eyes burned with resolve. "Let me accompany Crimson to the western border."
A flicker of surprise crossed the king's face, while Queen Sylthana's lips parted slightly in disbelief.
"Elaria," the queen said softly, "we know how you feel about him. We've always known. But this mission is not a reunion, it is a path into unknown danger."
King Thalorien's voice was more stern. "This is not some courtly errand. If the monsters are what the reports suggest, even your magic may not be enough to shield you. You could die out there."
"Then I'll face that risk," Elaria replied without hesitation. "I will not remain behind when Crimson faces the unknown. Not again."
Crimson turned toward her, his tone gentle but resolute.
"Elaria… it's dangerous. I don't want you getting hurt. This isn't just some old battlefield—it's a shadow we don't yet understand."
But Elaria looked up at him with pleading, shimmering eyes, her voice soft.
"Please… I've waited so long to see you again. Let me stand beside you, just this once."
Crimson hesitated. The room fell quiet. He tried to remain firm—but then she tilted her head ever so slightly, her gaze locked on his with that silent, almost mischievous plea. The puppy eyes.
He sighed in surrender, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"…You're impossible to say no to."
Queen Sylthana exchanged a glance with her husband, their expressions darkened by the weight of the decision.
"Very Well," the queen said, her voice calm but resolute. "Then we will not send you lightly into the unknown."
King Thalorien stood, his white hair catching the light like snow under moonlight.
"We will dispatch two thousands of our finest soldiers to accompany you to the western frontier. The borders must be protected, and your mission cannot be left vulnerable."
He turned toward a royal guard.
"Have preparations begun at once." He then turned toward to Princess Arwen, "And Arwen, you will accompany your sister. This mission is too great to entrust to one alone."
Princess Arwen, who had been silently watching, blinked in surprise—then grinned.
"Finally! I was wondering when someone would say I could go too."
Crimson exhaled slowly, realizing there was no turning back now.
"…So be it. I'll take them both under my watch."
He then stepped forward, his tone becoming firm and formal.
"Your Majesties, I have one request before I depart."
Queen Sylthana nodded. "Speak it, Crimson."
"Send a message to the Heartless Guild in the capital immediately. Tell them to dispatch elite members and full reinforcements to the western border. I want every Heartless Guild Knight Order under my command mobilized and ready. If this escalates into war, we must not be caught unprepared."
The king's expression grew grim, but he gave a solemn nod.
"The message will be sent at once. Your orders will be honored, Crimson."
Crimson bowed his head deeply.
"Thank you. This may yet become something greater than any of us wish—but if it does, we will meet it prepared."
And so, the throne room became a flurry of movement and purpose. Orders were dispatched, weapons were readied, and the city of Vanima stirred with the anticipation of what was to come.
The legend of Crimson Aegis had returned not as a lone warrior, but as a commander of kingdoms, a bearer of burdens, and the shield of nations.
And by his side now stood not one but two daughters of the Alariel crown, ready to face the storm with him.