Hans and his entourage finally arrived in Patisia after a long journey marked by suffering. Their bodies were frail, their skin pale, and many were on the brink of dehydration. Yet the moment their eyes fell upon the grand city stretching before them, a surge of hope and awe lifted their spirits.
"So this is Patisia? It's magnificent… colossal! I've never seen anything like this in my entire life!" exclaimed Lora, her eyes shining despite the exhaustion clinging to her limbs.
Hans nodded, his gaze fixed on the towering spires and fortified walls of the city."Yes, Lora. We made it. We survived."
But their journey had come at a steep price. For days, they were tossed about on open seas, relying on a single surviving sail after storms had shredded the others. The erratic winds left their vessel spinning in disarray, while dwindling supplies of food and water pushed them to the edge. Many fell ill, including Balarniyan—now a shadow of himself, emaciated and barely conscious in Lora's arms.
"We're lucky to have made it this far… but Balarniyan…" Lora whispered, her eyes pleading with Hans.
Hans exhaled deeply."We need to find help immediately. Patisia is our last hope."
Meanwhile, in the heart of Damerius's residence in Patisia, Kaelthar burst into the strategy room where Damerius was locked in a tense meeting with Magnoli, Duke Alderon, Valtros Gorn, and Arkael.
"Sir, our scouts have spotted a vessel near the coast—one resembling the ship Hans of Migase once brought back. They've landed on Patisia's shore," Kaelthar reported, voice low but urgent.
Damerius lifted his head, his expression sharpening with concern."Bring them to our port immediately and ensure they receive the best care possible. They are not enemies. Guarantee their safety."
"At once, sir!" Kaelthar gave a brisk salute and hurried out.
Magnoli turned to Damerius with a curious expression."So we have guests? Hans has returned? What could have brought them back to Patisia in such a state?"
Damerius slowly shook his head."We don't yet know for sure. But judging by their condition, something terrible must have happened."
Valtros Gorn, who had been silent until now, finally spoke."If Hans has returned with a weakened company, then something far greater may be unfolding beyond our borders… or something in their homeland has driven them back here."
Damerius nodded."Most likely. But for now, our priority is ensuring their survival."
"Understood, sir," Kaelthar replied before hurrying off.
With Damerius's orders relayed, Kaelthar and his troops swiftly moved toward the shore. In the distance, Hans's ship bobbed on the waves—a worn and battered symbol of their arduous journey finally coming to port. But questions now loomed over all: What brought Hans back to Patisia? And what danger might be trailing behind him?
Inside the strategy room, Damerius, Magnoli, Duke Alderon, Valtros Gorn, and Arkael resumed their meeting. The atmosphere was tense, heavy with the weight of the empire's uncertain future. Their plans were no longer just about defense—they were a desperate blueprint for survival against the rising brutality of the Empire.
"We can't ignore what's coming," said Magnoli, locking eyes with Damerius."The Empire is preparing a decree to purge everything they consider rebellious. Rogg's fate proves it—anyone who refuses to kneel will be annihilated."
Damerius nodded, his mind racing."I should have been crowned Emperor this month, as per Father's will. But to this day, there's been no official decree confirming my succession. That means… they've erased my name from the empire's history."
Duke Alderon, who had been listening intently, interjected."The news of your 'death' thirteen years ago was used to justify your removal. They want to build a new dynasty. If we do nothing, Whiteheaven's power will fall completely into their hands."
"Brother," said Magnoli, "I can deploy two hundred thousand troops. But we're still outnumbered. The Empire has half a million soldiers ready to march at any moment. If we fight under these odds, we're walking into ruin."
Damerius let out a long breath."Brother, I don't want this war. All I want is to honor Father's will. But if claiming my birthright means sacrificing hundreds of thousands of innocent lives, then I would rather step down. I can't let civil war destroy the people of Whiteheaven. Patisia, the city we built with so much pain, will be the first to fall."
Magnoli looked at him with a mixture of sympathy and sorrow."I understand how you feel, brother. But I also won't stand by while you're branded a traitor by a corrupt empire. We must find a way to protect you—without dooming our people."
Damerius nodded solemnly."This isn't just about me anymore. There's a greater possibility now—if Rogg truly is Uncle Brovos's son, then he and Robb have a rightful claim to the throne as well. The Empire may deny us all, but that won't change the bloodline."
Magnoli paused, thinking carefully."You're right. But the people of Whiteheaven know you. If we suddenly introduce Rogg or Robb as heirs, there will be resistance. Besides, the throne cannot be claimed without the strength to defend it."
Damerius clenched his fists."What makes me any different from them? We've all been erased from the Empire's story, presumed dead, only to return. Even with evidence and bloodlines on our side, the Empire can still reject us."
Magnoli fell silent."The situation's becoming even more tangled. I never imagined we'd face something like this. Even now, in my position, I'm forced to confront the ambitions of my own mother."
Damerius met his brother's gaze with determination."Even so, I believe we can overcome this. As princes, we must stand united. We must strengthen everything we have—before it's too late."
Outside, the unrest across Whiteheaven spread like wildfire. The Empire was mobilizing massive forces, reinforcing noble factions, and sending a clear message—any challenge to its rule would be met with brutal force. War was no longer avoidable, and time was running out.
Across the vast ocean stretching from the continent of Megido, the forces of Balevad had set sail toward the Whiteheaven Empire, bringing devastation in their wake. Three hundred thousand warriors, sworn to the might of Balevad, stood in tight formation aboard massive warships, slicing through the waves with terrifying speed. The fleet moved like a swarm of sea monsters, ready to devour anything in their path.
At the very front of the armada stood Billok, the commander of the vanguard, tall and unshaken atop his formidable warship. His sharp gaze pierced the horizon, brimming with ambition and ferocity. Beside him stood Minora—his lover and a ruthless, brilliant war strategist—studying the map with cold calculation in her eyes. She was far more than a companion; she was the mastermind behind Balevad's string of conquests.
Behind them, Bindor and Bondor—the infamous giant twins and supreme generals of the army—commanded hundreds of thousands of soldiers who formed the backbone of this assault. Towering like colossi, wielding weapons capable of obliterating enemy lines with a single swing, they embodied terror on the battlefield. The ships they rode bore the symbols of blood and bones, a grim reflection of Balevad's brutality.
Toward the center of the fleet sailed Bolisi, known as "The Emotionless Conqueror," flanked by tens of thousands of his own troops. Unlike his more fervent brothers, Bolisi remained calm—silent and calculating—allowing his siblings to strike first, breaking Whiteheaven's defenses before he delivered the finishing blow with cold precision. His gaze, sharp as a raptor's, scanned the horizon, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
At the rear marched the final twin pair—Borrik and Birrok—leading tens of thousands more in reserve. But they were far from mere reinforcements; they were the hammer meant to crush Whiteheaven to its core. They were the shadows trailing behind the storm—the pillagers, lying in wait to obliterate whatever survived the first onslaught.
This human tide from Balevad surged forward like an unstoppable wave, racing toward Guava Valley, the heart of Whiteheaven's power. Their colossal, steel-plated warships turned the sea black, blotting out the moonlight that usually danced across the water's surface. They came with one goal: to conquer and to destroy.
In the distance, the sky grew darker, clouds thickening as if nature itself sensed the catastrophe drawing near. One thing was certain—this war would not be an ordinary battle. It would be the beginning of a cataclysm that would shake the very foundations of Whiteheaven's land.