Chapter 41 – Riders from the Iron Empire
The eastern sky thundered with hooves and wings.
From the scorched gates of Gildcrest, rows of black-armored cavalry poured in, each riding massive, plated warhorses adorned with crimson banners. Behind them soared three drakes—scaled beasts, smaller than true dragons but bred for war. Their shrieks split the air as they circled overhead.
At the head of the column rode a woman clad in obsidian steel. Her cape was stitched with golden thorns, her eyes glinting like molten silver. Her name was whispered even among the Luther Clan's oldest warriors:
Valessia Ironthorn. The Iron Empress's Bloodhound.
Jean stood at the foot of the Eastern Spire, Luxclade still humming from her duel with Sylas. Her aura flickered as she stared at the incoming force.
Cassien lowered his spyglass. "Two hundred elite knights. Three siege drakes. And her."
Kael grimaced. "They're not here to negotiate."
Sylas, still kneeling and bleeding, chuckled darkly. "You think I'm your greatest threat? You have no idea what the Iron Empress truly wants."
Jean's voice was quiet but firm. "We'll find out."
The riders halted just within the outer gate. Valessia dismounted with fluid grace, her blade—taller than most men—slung across her back. She walked with confidence born not of arrogance, but of conquest.
"I bring greetings from Her Majesty," Valessia said, her voice smooth and cold. "She sends her regards… and a demand."
Jean stepped forward. "Speak it."
Valessia's eyes narrowed. "The Luther Clan is to stand down. Disband your knights. Cease the succession war. You will kneel—or be crushed."
Whitney growled low, stepping between Jean and Valessia.
Jean didn't blink. "And if I refuse?"
Valessia tilted her head. "Then we test your blade against dragonfire."
A moment of silence passed. The sky overhead churned with stormclouds summoned by the wings of drakes. The soldiers of Gildcrest braced, barely standing after the civil battle.
Then Jean raised her voice—not just to Valessia, but to the people.
"The Luther Clan has bled enough for others' ambitions. We fought for our future, not to hand it over."
She raised Luxclade high, and light split the clouds.
"If the Iron Empire wants a war, then it will learn what it means to face an Emissary of Light!"
Valessia's expression did not change. "So be it."
She raised her hand. The drakes shrieked and dove.
But before they could descend, a burst of silver lightning lanced through the sky—striking the lead drake and sending it crashing into the forest below.
From the northern cliffs came a roar—louder than the drakes, deeper than thunder.
Whitney raised his head, ears perked. "That's… not one of ours."
A new shadow approached. Massive. Winged.
A true dragon.
Jean turned pale.
And from behind her, Silvia drew her sword once more. "Antares stirs… We must move quickly, sister."
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