Northreach Grand Station. Morning – Three Years After the Morvath War.
"Attention all passengers. The 'Silver Comet' Mana-Steam Express bound for the Capital, Sol-Regis, will depart in ten minutes. Please have your tickets and travel documents ready."
The announcement chimed clearly through the loudspeakers mounted on every station pillar, replacing the raspy, breathless shouts of traditional conductors. Northreach Grand Station stood as a new monument of pride. Its roof was a graceful arc of steel and clear glass, allowing the dawn light to flood the polished marble floors, reflecting the bustling crowds within.
On Platform 1, an iron beast let out a low, rhythmic hiss. The Mana-steam locomotive, finished in shimmering silver with the Golden Lion crest of House Sudrath on its side, was the fastest machine in the entire Kingdom of Aethelgard.
On the VIP platform, the Sudrath family gathered. And as usual, the atmosphere was far from tranquil.
"Where's the rendang?! Don't tell me we left it behind! I spent four hours slow-cooking that spiced beef until it was perfectly dry just so it would last the journey!" Duchess Aurelia looked frantic, her hands busy rummaging through her daughter's expensive leather suitcase.
"It's in this bag, Mother... please, stop unpacking everything..." Raveena sighed, trying to restore order to her belongings.
Three years had transformed the little girl into a breathtaking young woman. At fifteen, Lady Raveena possessed Aurelia's sharp jawline and beauty, but her eyes held Rianor's calculating intelligence. She wore the Royal Magic Academy uniform—a navy blue mantle modified for style, paired with knee-high leather boots. At her waist was a short metallic cylinder that looked deceptively simple: a Telescopic Staff.
Beside her stood Young Master Raphael, now thirteen. Puberty had hit him like a freight train; he had shot up in height, and his shoulders had broadened from the "hellish" physical training sessions with Riven. He wore the black and red uniform of the Royal Military Academy, complete with a jet-black scabbard hanging from his hip.
"Step aside, let me do a final check," a flat, feminine voice cut through Aurelia's fussing.
Rumina Sudrath stepped forward. Now nineteen, she wore a heavy leather apron over her dress, her hands roughened with small scars from forge-sparks. She snatched Raveena's cylinder. CLICK. With a single press of a hidden trigger, the staff extended into a full-length combat staff.
"The hinges are smooth. I've recalibrated the mana crystals so it won't overheat when you're spamming fire spells," Rumina stated clinically as she handed it back. "Take care of it. That's a titanium alloy I spent a week forging. Don't go using it to whack rats."
Raveena offered a sweet smile and hugged her sister. "Thanks, Rumina. It's a masterpiece."
Rumina let out a soft huff, though her cheeks flushed slightly. She turned to Raphael, drawing his sword halfway. SHRING. The blade shimmered with a bluish hue—pure Mithril. "The balance is perfect. I've weighted the hilt slightly to make parrying easier, just as Riven taught you."
"Remember, Raphael," Rumina fixed him with a sharp gaze behind her spectacles. "This steel is expensive. If you break it through sheer carelessness... I'm cutting your allowance for the entire semester."
Raphael laughed nervously. "Understood, Rumina. This blade is my life."
"Raphael," a deep voice called out.
Sir Riven stepped forward. The war hero looked more seasoned at thirty-five. His physique was massive, his muscles seemingly straining against the formal suit he wore. Riven wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulder—more of a friendly headlock, really.
"Remember our talk?" Riven whispered seriously.
"I remember, Brother," Raphael answered resignedly.
"Repeat it."
Raphael sighed. "If a senior gives me a hard time, don't cause a scene in public. Take them behind the shed, use a submission hold, and neutralize them without leaving any bruises."
"Good lad," Riven patted his back so hard Raphael nearly choked. "I'll be joining you next week for the General's inauguration. If you've lost weight by the time I arrive... I'm firing your dorm's chef."
Lady Rhea approached Raveena, slipping a small canister into her pocket. "Raveena, that's a concentrated pepper spray from Elara. Five hundred percent concentration. If some noble's hands get 'adventurous' or if anyone tries anything..."
"Spray their eyes?" Raveena guessed.
"Spray their mouth so they swallow hellfire," Rhea corrected viciously.
Sir Rianor and Sir Roland arrived last. Rianor handed over two pairs of small earpieces. "Long-range communicators. Linked to the castle's telegraph network. If you need help with a Physics exam... call me." Meanwhile, Roland handed over two thick envelopes. "Extra pocket money. Use it to treat your peers. In the Capital, your network is everything."
Duke Lucian hugged both children, his eyes misty. "Go. Make us proud."
TUUUT... TUUUT!
The automatic doors hissed shut with a hydraulic sigh. The train began to roll slowly, leaving the station behind as the twins waved from the window. On the platform, a sudden silence fell. Aurelia was still waving her handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes.
"The house is going to feel so empty..." she sobbed.
Suddenly, the crying stopped. Just like that.
Aurelia turned around. The grief vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp expression that made the hair on Riven's neck stand up. The killing intent radiating from her was denser than any war machine. Вhe glared at Riven, Rhea, and Rianor.
"Empty..." Aurelia murmured. Her high heels clicked—TAK. TAK. TAK.—against the marble. "This house is too empty."
"Riven Sudrath," she called out sharply.
"Y-yes, Mother?" Riven took a step back, accidentally bumping into Rianor.
"You're going to the Capital next week for your inauguration, aren't you?"
"I... yes. The King summoned me..."
"Good," Aurelia smiled sweetly—too sweetly. "Then you have an additional mission. When you return, you MUST bring two things: One, your General's commission. Two, A DAUGHTER-IN-LAW."
Riven choked on his own breath. "Mother! You can't be serious! I'm going there on state business!"
"I don't care!" Aurelia snapped. "You're thirty-five! Back in our old world, men your age had two kids already! You? You don't even have a girlfriend! Are you waiting until you're grey and wrinkled to marry?!"
She turned to Rhea. "You too, Rhea! Twenty-nine! Stop playing with knives and find a husband!" Then to Rianor. "And you! Stop dating your machines! Elara has been waiting for a straight answer for years!"
Aurelia pulled out a thick notebook. "PROJECT: IN-LAW. Starting today, I'm slashing the weapons budget by fifty percent to fund the wedding parties."
"NOOOO!" Riven and Rianor shouted in unison.
"You have two choices," Aurelia said as she walked toward their carriage. "Bring a partner home, or I'll find one for you. And you know my taste."
Riven, Rhea, and Rianor exchanged looks of pure horror. They had survived a war, but facing their mother's matchmaking ambition? That was the true suicide mission.
The Imperial Palace, Iron Empire – Western Continent.
Thousands of miles from Northreach, amidst the hiss of steam pipes, Emperor Regulus Velthorne stared at the sketch of the Titan MK-1.
"Ancient technology..." he whispered through his mechanical respirator. "Fascinating. Truly fascinating."
He slammed a warship piece onto the map of Northreach. "General, ready the Seventh Fleet. Activate Project: Goliath. This time... the Empire itself goes knocking on their door."