Aethelgard Royal Palace
Maximus watched the battle unfold through the floating obsidian orb, the image so sharp it felt as though he stood on the field himself. Every explosion of light, every clash of steel, and every scream swallowed by Sienna-Rose's shimmering barrier sent a thrill up his spine. His pulse hammered. His blood boiled with something fierce, excitement, pride, and disbelief.
Aethelgard's army, once mocked for its dwindling strength, now moved like a force pulled out of legend. Knights in Sienna-Rose's enchanted armor sprinted faster than horses, their plates bending the sun into a thousand razor glints.
The all-terrain bikes, the strange, growling machines the court had once laughed at, now cut swaths through the imperial formation as if the riders commanded living steel beasts. And behind every devastating strike, every overturned line, and every shattered barrier, Maximus saw the same two figures.
