The Imperial forces, led by Prince Todius and Prince Dorges, began to march slowly, making their way through the grand cities of the Larfex territories and the vast plains of Whitesand, heading back to the heart of power—the Whiteheaven Palace.
Elsewhere, Eryndor and Thaldrim, who had suffered a humiliating defeat during their assault on the Thalvion Gate, had also returned. On the second night following their devastating loss on the battlefield, they arrived quietly, carrying with them wounds, disgrace, and the shattered remnants of their troops.
The Empire—on one front—had swallowed a bitter, shameful defeat at Thalvion. But on the other, in line with Empress Xienna's designs, they had succeeded in capturing Damerius—a politically significant move.
Now, the two columns of Imperial forces were returning to the capital—one bearing a hollow sense of triumph, the other filled with seething rage and unresolved wounds.
Meanwhile, in the north of Patisia, Magnoli's voice rang out, shattering the dark stillness of dawn.
"The Imperial army has returned! And they've taken Damerius!" he roared, his voice burning with fury.
"But hear me now! We will not allow Damerius to be mistreated! He shall be the proof that justice cannot be dictated by slander! That law cannot be enforced by arrogance—but must be upheld in the light!"
He raised his hand, eyes blazing.
"Today... today we march! Are you ready?!"
The crowd erupted.
"READY!"
"For freedom!"
"For justice!"
"For truth and our dignity!!"
Thunderous cries merged into one. Hundreds of thousands of Magnoli and Damerius's united forces raised their weapons and began their march toward the Empire's heart—toward Whiteheaven!
Behind them, without a word, followed the elite cavalry of Smokeland, led by Brando Velary. Their tight formation moved like a shadow haunting the Imperial forces—an unspoken vengeance that followed them silently, ominously.
But just as the forces led by Eryndor neared the palace—what they witnessed defied reason.
Eryndor pulled his horse to a halt, eyes widening in disbelief.
"What is this...?"
Before them, the bodies of palace guards lay strewn lifelessly. The massive gates that should've welcomed a triumphant return... were sealed shut. Silent. Menacing.
"Karstus!" Eryndor bellowed. "What happened?! Why are the palace guards down?! Who holds this place?!"
Karstus—the commander of the palace guard—bowed low, tense and trembling.
"My Lord... the palace has fallen into enemy hands..."
"What? Enemy? Who do you mean?! Who could seize a fortress of this scale?! Seventeen layers of walls, Karstus! SEVENTEEN!" Eryndor shouted, his fury exploding.
Karstus swallowed hard. "The Dark Legion, my Lord... Doliex's elite troops... Initially five thousand strong. Now swollen to seventy thousand. They've taken control of all gates, including the western and southern sectors. And that's not all... Prince Magnoli's Hollow Creed has entered. Fifty thousand reinforcements that now dominate the palace interior."
"WHAT?!" Eryndor nearly dropped his helmet. "You're joking, Karstus?! How could this be...?!"
"They came like shadows, my Lord... like an inescapable nightmare. We weren't prepared. No one could stop them."
Eryndor's face turned pale. His left hand clenched tightly, his leather glove creaking.
"We... we've been infiltrated..." he whispered, voice shaking.
Suddenly, Thaldrim stepped forward, his face equally stunned and baffled.
"No... This... this can't be real... The Dark Legion? They still exist?!"
Soon, from the distance, Doliex's elite cavalry began to emerge—their numbers staggering, fifty thousand mounted knights armed to the teeth, marching like a tidal wave ready to engulf.
"M-My Lord... who are they...? A-Are those... our troops?" Karstus stammered, his voice quivering.
Eryndor let out a low growl, his eyes narrowing as he watched the approaching tide.
"No. They're the enemy. Prepare for battle!" he barked.
All Imperial forces on the western flank froze. No one spoke. Fear swept deeper than the cold night wind. This time, they were not cornered by numbers—but by the sheer presence and power the Doliex forces had already proven.
To the south, the forces of Prince Todius and Prince Dorges had just arrived before Whiteheaven's southern gates. But what they saw made their blood boil—the gates were firmly sealed, and above them fluttered the silver-black banner of the Hollow Creed.
"Magnoli... YOU BASTARD!!" Todius growled, his voice echoing against the palace's stone walls. "You planned all of this from the very beginning!"
And then, it all became clear.
The Empire's two greatest forces, sent out simultaneously, had left behind a massive gap—one that was masterfully exploited by the Doliex forces and Magnoli.
This bold maneuver was the result of Prince Xaverius's master strategy. Always lurking in the shadows, he let all parties move freely... until the trap snapped shut.
Amateur troops were sent outside to wage war, while elite forces infiltrated from within. And while the generals and princes were distracted outside, the palace had already been seized from the inside.
Now, everyone realized... who truly held the keys to the Empire's power: Xaverius, Magnoli, and Rogg.
Not long after, an official letter bearing Xaverius's golden seal was delivered to all factions. Its message was clear:"Present yourself at the Imperial Court. Today, history will change."
From the west, Eryndor, Thaldrim, Jolloy, and the remaining heads of the battered army entered the court square with somber faces, their bodies covered in the dust of defeat.
From the south, Prince Todius, Prince Dorges, and Damerius walked slowly toward the courtroom, flanked by their generals. Their steps were heavy—dragged by pride and the weight of bitter truth.
From the east came Magnoli, accompanied by Duke Alderon, Kaelthar, Arkael, and Valtros Gorn. They marched with unwavering confidence. Their expressions told all—they had won long before any swords were drawn.
All around the court square, Hollow Creed troops guarded the twelve outer gates of the palace, while the Dark Legion—Doliex's deadly secret army—controlled the five innermost gates leading to the palace core.
When all had assembled, the palace doors opened, and there she was—seated upon the judicial throne, gaze sharp yet calculating—Empress Xienna, flanked by Consort Netia and the Grand Ministers: Zephyron, Barak Velmure, Ivara Sorein, Aelthar Frostbane, and the full court of the Empire.
But that wasn't all.
From the opposite side appeared long-unseen faces—former Grand Minister Hiremon, now aged but still revered, and former Minister Orlandis, the wise royal advisor.
They had all come... the witnesses of history, those who once heard Emperor Brovon's final decree, and now, would bear witness to the dawn of a new era in the Whiteheaven Empire.
The war had ended—at least for now.But the High Tribunal had only just begun.No one had expected that today would bring back the bitter memory from fifteen years ago—the day Emperor Brovon abdicated the throne and handed over power to a provisional council: five High Ministers, one Head of Military Division, and… Empress Xienna as Head of Government.
They were the seven pillars that replaced the emperor, ruling through a dark period of transition, without a sovereign.Yet… that decision was not without foresight.
The late Emperor Brovon had entrusted a great secret. A single individual in whom he placed absolute trust to guard all his confidential plans—whether the empire stood steady… or spiraled out of control.That person was: Prince Xaverius.
And now, he stood tall. Seated with solemn grandeur upon the Grand Vizier's throne, a sacred seat beside the emperor's.A throne left vacant for nearly twenty-five years… now claimed by Prince Xaverius.A place meant only for those who had given their soul and body for the empire, for its people, and for justice.
With calm yet resonant authority, Xaverius raised an old golden badge high into the air, his voice echoing through the imperial hall:"The last person who sat in this chair… was the one who handed me this badge. I was ten years old."
Gasps and murmurs spread among the nobles and soldiers.The Grand Vizier's insignia—the highest symbol beneath the emperor—was in his hand.How was that possible?Since when had Xaverius held it?What had he been planning all these years?
"Starting today," Xaverius declared, voice thunderous and ablaze,"I am taking control of the Whiteheaven Empire—its power, its palace… and the divine mandate!"
The entire court fell silent.Even the air felt like it held its breath.
An open tribunal was taking place in the imperial courtyard.Majestic.Ominous.It was like the sky holding still before a lightning strike.
"We will restore the entire governing system to the rightful emperor," Xaverius continued firmly."All mandates and titles held by the Ministers—including the Empress—are hereby returned to their proper place!"
Suddenly, a voice rang out, filled with fury and pain:"This… this is a coup, Xaverius! I AM your mother! I AM the Empress! You have NO RIGHT to revoke an imperial decree at your whim!"
Empress Xienna's face burned red, her chest rising and falling rapidly.Her eyes looked at Xaverius not as a ruler—but as a son who had betrayed and disappointed her.
"We have protected this empire for fifteen years," said Eryndor, stepping forward."We have been the strength that held up the people! Even the decision to attack Smokeland—was made to preserve the empire's dominance, which, as you claimed, was waning!"
But Xaverius cut through with a calm, resolute tone:"That's exactly it, Uncle… it's all clear now, isn't it? You… have made your final and greatest mistake."
Suddenly, Empress Xienna rose to her feet. Her face was a storm of rage—laced with a hidden fear."You think you can just unseat us, Xaverius?" she snapped."Without the emperor's decree? Without the palace's consent? Who do you think you are? Just a crippled boy, trapped in his own foolish fantasy!"
Her eyes burned. Her words shook the very foundation of the palace."Grand Vizier? HA! That's just a title you invented in your cowardice, to mask your weakness as a worthless prince!""You are no leader! You are no warrior! All your life… you've sat in your damn chair, hiding beneath the armpit of your aides!"
The chamber exploded.Shouts. Whispers.Chaos spreading like wildfire on dry grass.
The imperial tribunal had turned into a battlefield of ambition, vengeance, and broken bloodlines.And in a flash, the world saw—Power was not merely about the throne.It was about betrayal, courage, and long-buried truths.And the winds of history began to turn…
"Today…" Xaverius's voice rang out again—calm, but shaking the pillars of the hall,"...I present a true heir to the throne. A name written in the imperial decree fifteen years ago."
He did not flinch—even after being scorned by his own mother.
All eyes turned in one direction.Toward Damerius.Shocked.Suspicious.Hopeful.
Prince Todius and Prince Dorges, who had once held Damerius captive and labeled him a traitor, now stood frozen.The tide had turned.
The truth—spoken by Xaverius himself—shook the magnificent floor of the imperial court.
"Thirteen years ago…" Xaverius began, voice heavy, "Two years after Emperor Brovon abdicated… Damerius and his mother, Lady Triana, were declared dead. Dead from illness—at least, that's the version spread by those… hungry for power.Those who did nothing for the empire but hoard fame, indulge in revelry, soil our honor, and ravage our system with political rot and crimes against humanity!"
Silence fell.Some ministers looked uneasy.A few bowed their heads. Others began to sweat.
"But what you all forgot… was that dark story. The tragedy that befell my brother, Damma Lorexius—Damerius—and his mother, Lady Triana.The living witness still stands among us. Old man Hiremon… isn't that right?"
Xaverius turned to an elder trembling among the nobles.Hiremon looked weak—but his gaze was clear, and burdened.He said nothing.But his silence… was confession enough.
Then, Damerius presented the evidence.Documents. Emblems. Records.And the sword.
"No… no!"Empress Xienna half-screamed."Damma Lorexius is dead! I… I saw it myself! Didn't we both see it, Eryndor?!"
"Yes, sister…" Eryndor stammered, trying to sound firm, "I saw it… I saw Damma Lorexius die alongside Lady Triana…"
But Xaverius gave no space for doubt.He stepped closer to Damerius.
"Show them, brother… the sword. Father's sword, from when he was still a prince."
Slowly, Damerius opened his cloak.He raised Glacera—the legendary sword once wielded by Emperor Brovon.
The light reflected off its Lovarian steel gleamed with an undeniable majesty.A wave of awe swept through the hall.Some dropped to their knees.Many stood stunned.
"That… that's the emperor's sword!""The very sword young Emperor Brovon once wielded,""Wasn't that the same sword Rogg used in the battle against Lagosh?" whispered Brando Velary, already present in the hall with the Doliex war generals.
Yet the ministers did not concede.
Empress Xienna brandished a golden-sealed parchment, her voice thundering across the palace:"Here is the imperial decree from fifteen years ago! With this decree, the Ministers and I were granted supreme authority after the emperor's abdication. And by this very decree—only the EMPEROR can strip us of our titles!"
She glared at Xaverius."You claim the title of Grand Vizier. But don't forget… that post was left vacant by the emperor ever since Vortharian Aedrin's death! There is no testament naming you!"
Then Aelthar Frostbane stepped forward, unrolling a scroll in his hand."Here lies the true and irrefutable decree of the emperor! Neither badges, swords, nor your words are enough to alter the foundations of this empire!" he declared.
All eyes returned to Xaverius.Tense.Silent.As if time had paused.
Prince Xaverius now stood at the precipice, face to face with the storm of power that had finally begun to break.