The baby had just been born less than a fortnight ago, and yet the world inclined towards the Darsha heir's cradle already. Messengers rode round the clock, horses foaming, to bring letters that bore the imprint of wax and banners weighted with royal crests. Blessings poured in from all the empires—wealthy presents, diplomatic assurances, and hidden agendas.
The dwarves came first, their caravan towing behind them a chest of iron secured with runes. Inside was a hammer Sharath had never seen. Its handle shone with streaks of silver, its head inscribed with ancient dwarven writing that glowed dimly with inner fire.
"With its master, this hammer will grow," their ambassador stated, bowing deeply. "In the same way your son increases in strength and power, so will the hammer, until it's worthy of the gods."
The courtiers gasped, priests whispered of signs, and even Sharath caught his breath. He received it with gravity, placing the relic on an altar of respect.
Days afterwards, the elves' envoy rode into the capital, their wagons drawn by stag-like creatures sporting silver antlers. Their present was less grand in looks yet no less significant: a seed, black and tiny, nestled in a vial of crystal.
"Wherever it is sown, this seed will grow," their envoy said. "Desert, tundra, swamp—world-magic will make it take root. Shelter, food, or forest may grow from it, as your folk need."
Sharath cradled it in his hand and sensed its still heartbeat of magic. He knew at once: this was no gift. It was a guarantee of sustenance, survival, and mastery over even the most unforgiving lands.
And then came the most surprising one from the Beastmen. Their delegate knelt before the throne, placed no jewel or artifact, but a heavy scroll of parchment wound with red cord.
"It is the emperor's will," said the envoy solemnly. "That our empires are no longer divided. He proposes an eternal alliance—or if you so prefer, a union of our peoples under one flag."
The hall exploded. Nobles bellowed, priests debated, generals exchanged strained glances. Bassana hacked so violently Sharath feared he would fall over. Even Sharath himself felt his ground sway for one instant. A joining of empires? The Beastmen territories were huge, full of resources, but untamed, untrained. Accepting would reshape the world overnight.
He covered up his shock with an expressionless smile. "Convey to your emperor," he said finally, "that I thank him for his audacity. And that I invite him, and all his rulers, to a new summit here in Darsha, where such things can be said in the open."
And so the platform was set.
Weeks afterward, the world's capitals lost their monarchs again. Dwarves burst over mountains, carrying with them their latest wonder: mystical hoverboards that floated inches off the ground, firm as rock but as fast as a gust of wind. They wheeled them into Sharath's palace like temples' offerings, and the courtiers gasped as the boards floated, emitting a soft hum with blue light.
The elves arrived bearing their world-seed again, this time showing its strength. In front of the assembled crowd, they planted the seed into empty gravel in the palace yard. Before the hour elapsed, a sapling had burst forth, already taller than a man, its leaves shining with silver dew. The people cried, touching its trunk as if it were sacred.
And the Beastmen came with cages—not of captives, but of exotic beasts. Among them, they gave a cat unlike any breed: smooth black fur that shone like oil, eyes molten gold.
"A rare hunter from the distant jungles," Emperor Ronan said. "May it watch over the cradle of your heir."
The animal padded ahead, bumped against Sharath's leg, and purred loudly enough to shake the floor. Sharath laughed.
Once the presents were finished, it was Sharath's turn.
He took the emperors out to the courtyard, where a lineup of machines lay under silk cloths. At his signal, the veils fell, exposing tricycles that shone with polished brass, carriages equipped with iron motors, and balloons tied down with gas-filled bags.
These are not horse nor wind-powered," Sharath announced. "They run on the very lifeblood of the land."
Oil, purified and tied with fire runes and wind runes.
He climbed a tricycle, turned its handle, and the engine came alive. It belted across the courtyard, wheels spewing gravel, the crowd scattering in wonder. Nobles shrieked. Children giggled. Dwarves stroked their beards contemplatively.
Then the carriage, rumbling onward with not a single creature harnessed. Then the air-balloon, climbing slowly, floating over the courtyard till its lanterns shone against the twilight sky.
The assembled leaders stood frozen.
At last, Emperor Ronan of the Beastmen spoke up. "Hold such councils annually," he invited. "Let us enjoy these wonders."
The dwarves nodded furiously. The elves smiled with unaccustomed approval.
Sharath leaned his head. "Then so be it. But if we're to see each other yearly, we must travel faster than weeks on horseback. I suggest a solution: a system of trains—engines of steel, hauled along wires that tie our kingdoms together. The dwarves' hovercraft magic will stabilize them. My engines will power them. The elves' seeds will give nourishment along the ways.
Gasp after gasp swept the room. The concept was daring: kingdoms united not only by treaty, but by iron tracks.
The dwarven emperor roared with laughter, pounding his mug of ale against the board. "Aye! Between kingdoms alone, to begin with. The people must acclimatize to such pace before we unleash it within their own walls."
The queen of elves acquiesced, but hesitantly. "Between realms, yes. But not yet inside them. Change has to ripple, not inundate."
Sharath grinned, covering the unspoken bargain passed between the eyes of the dwarven emperor. Outwardly he complied with their conditions. Deep within, he understood: inside Darsha, the first genuine railroads would begin, weaving his empire closer, faster, stronger.
And so, under parchment signed in blood and gold, the empires agreed: iron veins would be laid on the skin of nations, the first trains in history.
As the summit concluded, fireworks exploded over the capital again, their hues mirrored in the wide eyes of the people. Hoverboards buzzed, seeds took root, engines revved, and in the palace's cradle, the new heir slumbered soundly, while the world outside was remolded by gifts, ambition, and steel.