The Energy Rail station in Aurus City was a chaotic hive of commerce, filled with the shouts of merchants and the heavy boots of travelers. People walking around to and fro, carrying their goods and belongings, minding their own business.
Regius walked into the station. He led the squad inside and reached the readers, tapping the smart bands against the readers. The system deducted the credits for their departure with a soft beep. The gate clicked open.
[5 CREDITS DEDUCTED]
They entered the rail platforms and waited for the train to arrive.
Regius led the squad along the lines of economy cars. Kael and the others instinctively moved toward the crowded general boarding platform, their eyes scanning the few empty seats available in the car.
"Not there," Regius said.
He steered them toward the front of the train, to the next car. Where a heavy door of brushed steel and tinted glass blocked the way, marked with the royal seal of the Concordat.
Regius raised his left hand. He pressed his palm against the crystal reader embedded in the steel.
The device hummed. It read the mana signature through the leather—the undeniable, high-frequency signal of a Sovereign Grade.
Chime.
The sound was distinct. A melodic tone cut through the cacophony of the train like a bell. The chatter on the platform ceased. Passengers froze mid-conversation, turning their heads toward the source of the sound.
The chime signaled the presence of a High Noble or a Sovereign Grade summoner—a rarity in the border cities. Hundreds of eyes fixed on the back of the young man in the traveler's cloak.
The heavy steel doors slid open silently. Cool, conditioned air rushed out, smelling of cedar and lemon.
"Get in," Regius said.
The squad hesitated. They looked at the velvet seats, the crystal decanters of wine secured in magnetic racks, and the panoramic windows. This was the suite for the privileged few.
The doors hissed shut, sealing out the stares of the public.
"Not the velvet chairs again," Vera groaned.
"This is…" Olin adjusted his glasses, calculating the ticket price in his head. "Excessive."
"Indeed. Make yourself at home," Regius said. "We'll have a long trip ahead of us."
As the train accelerated, the vibration was barely perceptible. The rail utilized magnetic levitation, gliding over the tracks with a smoothness that unnerved the squad, who was used to the rumble of a combustion engine or the gait of a mount.
Tavus and Sarra sat glued to the window. For the first time, they witnessed the true scale of the Aethel Domain.
The landscape shifted from the wild forests of the border to a pillar of industry. They passed endless fields of golden wheat tended by spider-like Construct harvesters. They sped through valleys dominated by massive energy pylons, crackling with the energy that regulated the weather for the crops. In the distance, factories vented clean white steam, processing the ore that fueled the armies of House Aethel.
Then, the train curved around the coastal cliffs.
To the east, separated from the pristine lands by a buffer of jagged cliffs, lay the pristine and recently built manufacturing giant of the Concordat: the Aethel Naval Yards.
It was a sprawl of grey steel and black iron that stretched for miles along the bay. Massive drydocks held the skeletal ribcages of Royal Navy Ironclads, ships the size of city blocks.
Massive Constructs, towering high, moved with slow, tectonic grace, lifting armor plates that no ordinary human could budge. Thousands of sparks rained down from welding teams, creating a constant, glittering haze over the industrial beast.
"I thought the world was just... trees and mud," Tavus whispered, his face pressed against the glass.
"That's the life on the border, little man," Kael said. "This is the heart of our domain."
An hour later, the landscape shifted again. The grit of the yards gave way to blinding beauty.
Astraea.
The Aethel Capital rose from the coastline like a sculpture carved from marble and salt. It was a city of gleaming white buildings and blue glass, built in concentric tiers that rose from the harbor to the marble cliffs.
The water was a deep navy teeming with life. Bloated merchant galleons sat low in the water, their holds full of spices. Swarms of fishing boats wove between them. Further out, sleek Aethel interceptors cut through the waves like sharks, their energy cannons gleaming in the sun. And in the far distance, massive Aethel warships guarded the seas.
The train glided into the station in the capital. The platform wasn't empty, but a large private section had been cordoned off by the guards in ceremonial silver armor.
A man in a pristine black tailcoat stood waiting.
"Rank 4," Kael murmured.
The doors opened. Regius stepped out.
The butler bowed—a perfect, ninety-degree incline.
"Welcome home, Young Master," the steward said. "The transport is ready."
"Henck," Regius nodded. "It's been a while. Didn't expect you to pick me up."
"The High Lord was adamant, Young Master."
"Of course he is…" Regius smiled.
Henck turned, leading the group to their ride.
They bypassed the terminal entirely and were led to a sleek, black limousine idling at the curb—flanked by guards on energy cycles. The crest of the Zenith Blade was emblazoned in silver on the door.
As the entourage drove through the city, the reaction of the populace was immediate. Merchants paused their haggling; laborers stopped their work. Children ran close to take a closer look at who's inside the tinted windows. Some waved toward the vehicle; some bowed slightly in respect.
The limousine ascended the winding road to the Upper District, finally passing through the unbreakable gates of the estate.
Aethel Palace.
It sat on the highest point of the white cliffs, overlooking the entire domain. White towers soared into the sky, connected by elegant aerial bridges. But Regius's eyes, using Orion's True Sight, scanned the surface of truth beneath the beauty. The walls were reinforced with kinetic barriers. The gargoyles were dormant defense turrets. Anything deeper than the superficial layer is beyond his Rank 2 strength.
The car stopped at the main ramp. Servants rushed to open the doors.
A plump, elderly woman in a stiff housekeeper's uniform bustled down the steps. Her face, usually stern, broke into a wide, teary smile.
"Master Regius!"
"Miss Gable," Regius gave a warm smile.
She was the head servant of the palace, watching over Regius ever since he was still in diapers. She had bandaged his knees when he was five. One of the few people in the palace who saw him as a little boy.
She reached out to fuss over his cloak, then paused, noticing the grim-faced soldiers and the grieving widow behind him.
"They are my guests, Miss Gable. Please prepare the guests' room for them and fulfill anything they need."
Miss Gable blinked, then curtsied low. "Of course, Young Master. Immediately."
She signaled the staff. Servants swarmed forward, taking bags and guiding the overwhelmed squad toward the luxury of the main house.
Regius watched them go. He caught Kael's eye.
Stay put, the look said.
Regius turned and walked toward the main entrance. He stripped off his travel cloak as he moved, handing it to a servant without breaking stride. He headed straight for his chambers.
Ten minutes later, Regius stood before a mirror. He wore the formal robes of the Heir—midnight blue silk with silver embroidery, a high collar, and the badge of House Aethel.
He looked at his left hand. The black leather glove remained.
"Showtime," he exhaled.
He walked to the Strategy Room in the West Wing. Two figures were waiting outside the chambers.
High Lord Magnus and Lady Lucine.
They looked impeccable. Magnus wore his double-breasted coat. Lucine wore a blue gown that looked woven from silk and satin.
"Regius," Magnus breathed. He stepped forward and pulled his son into a crushingly tight hug.
Regius hugged him back, feeling the broad frame of his father.
Magnus pulled back, holding Regius by the shoulders. The High Lord looked into his son's eyes. He felt the density of the aura radiating from the boy—cold, heavy, and vast. His son had undergone a tremendous change ever since he left the palace.
"You've grown," Magnus said.
"I've learned a lot, Dad."
"Are you ready?" Lucine asked. She stepped forward, fixing his collar. "The room is full. The branch heads and the generals are here. They smell blood in the water."
Magnus nodded to the guards.
The heavy double doors to the Strategy Room groaned open, revealing the sharks waiting inside.