Previously-
A suffocating pressure slammed down. Richard's knees buckled—then his whole body hit the floor. Stone cracked beneath him, veins in his arms bulged unnaturally as though even his blood struggled to move. His breath hitched. He gasped, helpless.
The pressure didn't come from magic. It came from something deeper. Older.
Henry's glare alone pinned him like a curse.
"Gaze upon her like that again," he said, his voice like cold steel, "and you won't live long enough to regret it."
No one spoke. Even the air seemed afraid to move.
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DATE- 10th , Month of Zephyris, 2012 A.G.
LOCATION- Draken Palace, Royal Capital Drakengard
Knights in silver armour reached the walls of Drakengard. Behind them, a modest carriage trailed in their wake.
"Stop!" a guard shrieked, hurrying toward the group.
One of the riders dismounted. He approached the guard and pushed back his hood. Short black hair spilled out, revealing eyes dark as obsidian.
The guard flinched. He looked closer—at the man's sculpted jaw, the neatly trimmed beard, the sharp, striking face.
"Excuse me?" the man said.
"Eik!" the guard blurted, cheeks reddening. "I greet the Duke of the East, Edward Tigranclaw!" He bowed hastily.
Edward chuckled and handed the man a folded piece of parchment.
"Here."
The guard studied the document carefully, then gave a small nod.
"Allow me to open the gates for you," he said, hurrying back to his post and signaling the men atop the wall.
With a heavy groan, the great oak doors of Drakengard creaked open, revealing a surge of life within. The market stretched out like a living tapestry—vendors shouted over each other, hawking spices, silk, and steel. The air was thick with the aroma of roasted meats and incense, cut now and then by the sharp tang of metal from a nearby forge. Children weaved through the crowd with practiced ease, while pickpockets eyed purses with quiet greed.
The knights entered in formation, their silver armour gleaming under the high sun, drawing curious glances from the townsfolk. Edward followed behind, stepping into the chaos with calm poise, his eyes scanning the city.
Heads turned as murmurs rippled through the market, a wave of whispers following the knights' gleaming approach. People parted like a tide before a prow, clearing a path with hesitant awe. Some lowered their heads, others stared openly—caught between reverence and curiosity.
Finally, a man hesitantly walked up to Edward, he clasped his hands together as tears welled in his eye,
"Lord Tigranclaw, thank you for your help in my daughter's illness."
Edward flinched, a jolt shooting through him like cold steel against bare skin. His breath caught for a split second.
'What…? '
For a man like him, surprise was rare—but in that moment, it slammed into him without warning. His brows furrowed, and his usual composure cracked, if only for a heartbeat.
"I don't know what you are talking about, good sir?" Edward muttered.
The man wiped his tear,
"My lord," he began, his voice laced with a mix of hesitation and resolve, "even if you discreetly helped me arrange the funds... it seems one of your knights caught my gaze."
Edward smiled faintly, his lips curling into a soft, almost melancholic expression.
"Is that so? How is she?"
The man's eyes shimmered, tears threatening to spill once more. He hastily wiped them with a cloth, his voice thick with gratitude.
"She's doing fine, thanks to your grace, my lord."
Edward gave a small, acknowledging wave, his gaze drifting forward as he began to walk away. But just as his footfall echoed against the cobbled streets, a shrill cry halted his movement.
"Lord Tigranclaw, thank you for your help during the famine!" A lady's voice rang out, clear and piercing above the murmur of the crowd.
Her words sparked a chain reaction, and soon, several others joined in, calling out their thanks. The sound of their voices swelled like a chorus, enveloping him. It wasn't just gratitude—there was a reverence in their tone, an unspoken acknowledgment of his role in their lives during the darkest of times.
Edward glanced back at the crowd, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. He took in the gratitude of the people, their voices rising in unison, yet he remained unshaken, untouched by the public display. To him, this moment was no more than the quiet ripple of a larger plan.
He believed, firmly, that one should help others in such a way that the left hand doesn't even notice the deeds of the right. Generosity, in his eyes, should be quiet, unassuming—given without the need for recognition or thanks. But still, as the voices of the grateful reached him, he couldn't help but feel a small spark of pride. His efforts, though discreet, had changed their lives—and perhaps, in ways yet unseen, would shape the course of something far greater.
As Edward rode towards the imperial palace, a carriage caught his eye. A carriage with the sigil of crossed swords and hammers- Duskrane.
He rushed towards the carriage halting its way.
CREAK!
A woman stepped out, her short white hair reaching her shoulders, her eyes- twin shards of emerald.
"Amelia…" a whisper escaped his lips.
The woman looked at him with concern. His torn robes, his scarred armour and his tired face.
"Edward!" Amelia's voice rang out, sharp and full of urgency as she rushed towards him. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of relief and something else—something darker.
Before he could react, she had already thrown her arms around his chest, but instead of the warmth he had been expecting, her embrace felt stiff, guarded. The familiar touch was there, but the underlying tension was palpable.
Edward stiffened for a moment, sensing the difference. He held her back, but something in the way she held herself made him pause.
"Amy…" he started, his voice faltering slightly, unsure of how to proceed.
She pulled away quickly, looking up at him with a storm in her eyes. "Don't 'Amy' me, Edward," she snapped. "What was that about? What were you doing?"
He hesitated, the weight of her gaze piercing through him, the guilt gnawing at him. "I—"
"You lied to me," she interrupted, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. "I thought you … I thought we trusted each other." Her words hung in the air, heavy and accusing.
Edward opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, her next words came out in a rush. "You put me to sleep, Edward! You cast a spell on me!" She took a step back, her hands balling into fists at her sides, her eyes flashing with a hurt he hadn't expected. "You didn't think I would find out what you were hiding?"
The sting of her words cut deeper than he anticipated, and he reached out, but she took another step back, the space between them growing with every moment.
"Amelia, listen," he started, his voice low, his tone apologetic. "I didn't want you to worry. I thought—"
"I don't care what you thought!" she snapped, her chest rising and falling with emotion. "I care that you didn't trust me enough to let me in. That you chose to keep me in the dark while you put yourself in danger." Her voice wavered, and though there was anger there, there was pain, too.
Edward opened his mouth to explain further, but this time, no words came. She turned away from him, her back to him as she took a few steps toward the carriage.
"Amelia..." Edward called softly, his heart sinking. "I never meant to hurt you."
But Amelia didn't look back. She just kept walking, her steps firm, her head held high—yet Edward could see the slight tremor in her shoulders as she moved away.
Olivia descended next, with Raphael, Evangeline, and Delphine rushing toward Edward. His heart swelled with warmth as he crouched down, arms wide open to welcome them.
"Father!" Raphael cried, throwing himself into Edward's embrace and wrapping his small hands around his neck.
Delphine and Evangeline were close behind, their tiny hands clutching the folds of his robes as they gathered around him.
"My children," Edward sighed with a sense of deep relief, his eyes softening as he looked at each of them. "How are you? Did you trouble your mother while I was away?"
"No!" Delphine and Evangeline answered in perfect unison, their voices filled with the innocent certainty that only young children could possess.
Raphael leaned in closer to Edward's ear, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Mother's angry at you, Father."
Edward blinked in surprise, then glanced down at his son. "Raphaeldor—"
But before he could finish his thought, Raphael quickly interjected, his expression serious, though his tone was light. "Just apologize to her, Father."
A chuckle escaped Edward's lips, and he straightened up, holding Delphine and Evangeline in his arms as they giggled and squirmed. "Hah… very well, my son," he said, his voice filled with affection and amusement. "I'll apologize to her."
Olivia approached next, her footsteps light but purposeful.
"Just give her some time," she said, her voice steady but warm.
Edward nodded, then handed Delphine and Evangeline over to her with a gentle smile.
"Yes, mother-in-law," he said, then glanced at the carriage. "Where are you headed?"
Olivia let out a sharp exhale, her expression hardening slightly.
"To the Leonhart mansion," she replied. "Alexander was wounded in some conflict with the emperor, and we're going to check on him." She paused, her gaze flickering back to the carriage. "Sophie has been worried about him the entire time."
Edward's brows furrowed in concern. "Alexander was wounded... by a conflict with the emperor?"
Olivia nodded, her eyes heavy with the weight of the news.
"Very well, mother-in-law," Edward said, his tone softer now. "I'll visit the mansion shortly." His eyes lingered on the carriage for a moment longer. "Tell Amelia I am sorry."
With that, Edward turned toward the royal palace, his face set in determination.
LOCATION- DRAKEN PALACE, ROYAL CITY OF DRAKENGARD
Edward kneeled before the emperor,
"I greet the emperor of the Fafnir Empire," Edward spoke coldly, his gaze unwavering as it settled on Thaddeus. "I was told that the vassal kingdom of Ardellia was plotting treason."
Edward snapped his fingers. At the signal, the golden doors creaked open, revealing a stout man, his hands bound in heavy shackles. Behind him stood two children—a boy and a girl—alongside a middle-aged woman.
Edward turned back to Thaddeus, his voice cutting through the tension. "And I was right, your majesty."
He motioned to Kalem, who stepped forward, pushing the prisoners into view.
"But," Edward continued, his tone softening just slightly, "I would be most grateful if you could show mercy."
Thaddeus, weary from recent events, fixed Edward with a tired gaze. "Very well. You may decide their punishment."
Edward stood, his stance firm as he looked down at the woman in the group. "I suggest we impose stricter taxes and make the queen the sole figure of authority in the kingdom."
Thaddeus raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. "Only this much?"
Edward's lips curled into a faint smile. "No, my lord. We'll appoint some of our men as officials in the kingdom and make them swear an oath of loyalty to the empire."
The stout king, struggling against his restraints, let out a furious growl. "What are you saying?" He lunged forward, but Kalem's spear was there to stop him, the sharp point mere inches from his chest.
"You want to turn my kingdom into a slave to the Empire?" the king hissed, glaring at the woman beside him. "And what? Make this foolish woman a ruler? I won't tolerate this!"
Edward's eyes hardened as he stepped closer to the bound king, his voice low and chilling. "Tell me, King of Ardellia—would you rather see your kingdom razed to the ground, or would you prefer to see it survive under the Empire's mercy?"
The king's breath caught, and his defiance evaporated. His eyes flickered nervously to the spear held by Kalem, then to Edward's cold gaze. He fell silent, the words choking in his throat.
"Good choice," Edward said with a sharp nod. He turned to Thaddeus. "Your Majesty, I trust you understand the consequences of letting rebellion fester."
Thaddeus, still exhausted from the turmoil of the past days, rubbed his temples, his expression weary. "The punishment will be as you've suggested," he muttered, barely meeting Edward's eyes. "The king will be thrown in the dungeons, and his family... they will be given a guest room. We will discuss this further tomorrow."
Edward nodded curtly, stepping away as Kalem ushered the prisoners out. When the room fell silent once more, only Edward and Thaddeus remained, the tension hanging between them like a thick fog.
Edward's gaze never wavered as he looked at the emperor. "I've heard," he began, his voice steady but carrying weight, "that you've branded me a traitor. That the church has turned its influence against me. But I also know," he continued, his eyes hardening, "that Alexander fought for my name. He fought for the honor of my house, and he did so without hesitation."
Thaddeus stiffened, the words cutting deep. But Edward was not finished.
"If you want to escape the church's grip," Edward's voice softened but retained its edge, "you should turn to those who have no love for them. The dukes—Richard, Alexander, Caelum, and myself. We are your loyal subjects, and we would help you, if you would only ask."
For a moment, the emperor stood there, his eyes downcast, as if the weight of his own failure pressed him down. Edward could see the shame in his posture, the way his shoulders sagged, and it only made his next words colder.
"You are the ruler, Thaddeus. You are the king. But as of now, I see nothing of the man who once held that power. If you want to be more than a puppet for the church, then start acting like a ruler. If not... then prepare for the consequences."
Thaddeus, voice barely above a whisper, mumbled, "I... I have no choice. The church... they blackmail me."
Edward's expression softened for the briefest moment, though his eyes never lost their cold edge. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a more sincere tone. "You have a choice, Thaddeus. You've always had a choice. And you're not alone. Ask us for help. We serve you. We are loyal to you."
He paused, letting the words sink in before continuing, his voice colder again. "And as for Alexander... forgive him. He has no anger toward you, only loyalty."
Thaddeus's eyes welled with guilt, and he bowed his head in shame. "I... I was wrong."
Edward's gaze grew icy once more. "Let me make something clear, Thaddeus. I would not mind being branded a traitor. I would wear it proudly if it meant protecting my own. But," he said, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper, "if even a single hair on Alexander's head is harmed, I will burn this Empire to the ground. No force, no church, no ruler will stop me."
Thaddeus flinched at the intensity of Edward's words, and for a long moment, the silence stretched between them.
Finally, Thaddeus looked up at him, his voice weak, almost a whisper. "I... I didn't know. I never wanted this."
Edward's gaze softened slightly, though the sharpness remained. "Then learn from it. You are our ruler, our king. My lord, ask us for help. We serve you. We are loyal to you."
He turned to leave but paused one last time. "And as for Alexander... please. He holds no ill will. He never has."
Thaddeus's shoulders sagged as the weight of Edward's words settled over him. "I will... I will make it right."
Edward gave him a curt nod, his gaze hardening once more. "I hope you do."
With that, Edward turned on his heel and walked toward the door, his thoughts already focused on what lay ahead. As he left the palace, the resolve within him only grew stronger. He would not let the Empire falter, not while he still drew breath. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but he would see it through—no matter the cost.