Chapter 528: The Grand Duke has returned
The sun had already passed the center of the sky when Strax finished organizing the last details of the departure. The courtyard in front of the mansion was calm, but charged with expectation. Scarlet, Tiamat, and Ouroboros watched silently as he adjusted his long black cape with scarlet details, dancing in the wind that was beginning to blow from the north…
The other girls were gathered further back. Cassandra, Daniela, Bellatrix, Beatrice, Kali, Monica, Xenovia, Samira, Nyx, Frieren, and Kryssia… all there, quiet, respectful. Even though, deep down, so of them wanted to be by his side on that mission.
Strax turned to the group and took a step forward.
“I know that many of you wanted to co with ,” he began, looking each one in the eye. “But I don’t know what awaits , much less want to put you in danger. It’s a tactical move. Caelum isn’t just a city of dragons, it’s a dangerous place. What happens there could spark or extinguish a war that hasn’t even started yet. And if it goes wrong, I need this place here…” He looked around, at the mansion, at the skies, at the ground where they trained and rested. “…to continue to exist.”
No one responded imdiately. Cassandra crossed her arms, staring at the ground. Kali clenched her fists but took a deep breath. Samira just nodded, with that calm, analytical look. Monica smiled slightly, as if she knew that all of this was necessary. Nyx looked away, but there was silent acceptance in her expression.
“Promise you’ll co back,” said Xenovia, almost in a whisper.
Strax didn’t promise. But his eyes said it all. He turned, ready to leave, and the tension finally dissipated…
That’s when the sound of bugles cut through the air.
A deep, imperial sound. It was not a common call, nor was it just any patrol. It was the bugle of the Vorah insignia—three long blasts and one short, the call of return from a high authority. And what followed was a mixture of dust, screams, and horseshoes.
Everyone turned to the main road leading to the mansion gates. On the horizon, a luxurious entourage approached in close formation. Guards dressed in black armor with gold details, banners with the burning dragon crest, and magically reinforced carriages. But it wasn’t the pomp that caught the eye — it was the man riding ahead.
Albert Vorah. The Grand Duke. Strax’s father.
The air grew heavy. Even Scarlet frowned. Beatrice muttered sothing like, “Oh, of course… just now that bastard cos back, after everything that happened.”
Strax remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the approaching figure. The man was tired, but he carried himself with the bearing of an emperor. His neatly trimd beard, crimson velvet cloak, and ceremonial armor further reinforced his almost suffocating aura of authority. His eyes, however, were living mirrors of Strax’s—golden, intense, hard. And when he finally saw him, Albert slowed his horse to a stop a few ters from the main gate.
For a mont, they said nothing. They just looked at each other.
Then the voice ca, not through the air, but directly into Strax’s mind. A ntal whisper laden with command.
“We need to talk.”
Strax did not hesitate. The answer ca like a cold, dry blade:
“Yes. We have unfinished business.”
The entourage stopped completely. The guards made way, but no one dared to approach. Scarlet approached Strax, looking sideways, cautious.
“Do you want to co with you?”
Strax shook his head.
“No. This conversation is old. It needs to be between the two of us.”
He passed through the gates, crossing the distance with slow but steady steps. Albert dismounted from his horse even before Strax arrived, setting aside the pomp and circumstance and heading to the center of the dirt field in front of the property.
There, the two n faced each other. Father and son. Two presences so similar, yet opposite in everything else.
“It’s been a long ti,” Albert said, breaking the silence.
“Long enough to almost forget the sound of your voice,” Strax replied harshly.
Albert narrowed his eyes but did not respond. He was too experienced to fall for simple provocations.
“I heard about the events in Eldoria. And about the dragons that attacked here.” He paused, and for the first ti, a hint of humanity crossed his hardened face. “And what you did for these people.”
Strax crossed his arms, motionless like a living statue.
“I didn’t co here for recognition.”
“I know. But even so… I should have been here before. I failed as Grand Duke.”
Strax raised an eyebrow, unable to hide his surprise.
“You admitting a mistake… That’s new.”
Albert smiled slightly, almost imperceptibly. “Age teaches things that war cannot. Now, let’s go sowhere private.”
The interior of Albert Vorah’s office was everything one would expect from a grand duke: an austere fusion of power and tradition. The walls were covered with antique tapestries and maps of the known world, many of them scribbled with draconic symbols and arcane handwritten notes. In the center, a low fireplace crackled softly, casting dancing shadows across the wyvern leather rug that covered most of the floor. Bookshelves cramd with grimoires, sealed artifacts, and relic weapons made the place feel more like an ancestral shrine than a simple workplace.
Albert entered first, followed closely by Strax. As soon as they were both inside, the gray-iron door closed on its own with a dull tallic sound—activated by an ancient privacy spell. The two stood face to face, the weight of their previous conversation still hanging between them.
Strax was the first to break the silence.
“Where were you?” he fired, his voice laden with sothing between resentnt and distrust.
Albert did not rush. He walked over to the bookcase, took out a crystal glass, and poured himself a thick amber liquid. He took a sip, took a deep breath, and only then replied:
“At sea.”
Strax frowned.
“At sea?”
Albert nodded, but his eyes were already distant, as if the mories had returned before the words.
“The mistress of the seas asked to check sothing in her palace, a body.”
Strax approached slowly, his eyes fixed on his father’s.
“What kind of body?”
Albert set the glass on the table. His fingers, for the first ti, trembled slightly.
“One of them… wasn’t dead. Not completely. Its flesh resists decomposition. Its blood still warms the ocean where it rests. There are marks on its skin—symbols, seals of containnt. Ancient magic. Sothing that predates the gods as we know them.”
Strax didn’t blink. He felt the lump in his throat tighten.
Albert concluded, lowering his voice as if challenging the world itself to listen:
“I believe it is a fallen god. One of the primordial ones. Perhaps… Poseidon.”
Strax closed his eyes for a second. The na sounded like thunder in his mind.
“Poseidon…”
It was a na forgotten by most, but not by them. The elders knew him. Not as a benevolent god of the waters, but as a rciless lord of the abyss. One of the three pillars of the original pantheon. Unlike many other gods, Poseidon had not died in battle—he had disappeared. And now, his body lay at the bottom of the sea… perhaps waiting.
“How can you be sure?” asked Strax, his voice now lower but tense.
Albert took a scroll from the safe behind the bookcase. He slowly unrolled it on the table. It was a map, but not an ordinary map—it was a magical outline of the oceanic crust. In the center, a gigantic silhouette was marked in red.
“This drawing was made by an oracle. She said the creature is dreaming. And if it wakes up… the tides will no longer obey the laws of the world.”
Strax analyzed the lines. The shape vaguely resembled that of a colossal humanoid, but with serpentine appendages and a crown of sea thorns. And the energy… even from a distance, the map seed to pulsate.
“And why didn’t you tell this before?”
Albert stared at him again, this ti without the coldness of a duke, but with the weariness of a man too old for the lies of the world. “Because I still don’t know if we’re ready for what’s coming.”
Strax nodded slowly, absorbing every detail. Caelum, the fugitive dragons, the girls’ new bodies, and now… this. The body of a god sunk into the abyss, the seals weakening, and the sea about to rise with ancient wrath.
“What the hell… there’s still this problem with the gods…” Strax said, but he had other objectives with this conversation.
Albert was still staring into the void outside the window when Strax’s voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade: “Why did you lie that my mother had died?”
The Grand Duke turned slowly, frowning. His expression, which had long been marked by an almost imperial rigidity, faltered with a genuine hint of confusion.
“Why would I lie?” he retorted, firmly, but with narrowed eyes. “I buried her myself.”
Strax did not respond imdiately. He just stared at him, trying to find sothing in that expression that would confirm what he had always suspected. But the truth was evident: Albert was telling the truth… or at least he believed he was. There was no lie in his eyes—just an old, solid, tragic mory.
The silence between them stretched on. Strax took a step forward, his eyes now darker, shadowed by sothing denser than doubt: certainty.
“Then why did I feel her presence?”
Albert backed away slightly, suspicious. “What are you talking about?”
Strax pulled a strap attached to his shoulder and, in a slow motion, unsheathed a blade shrouded in a dense, dark aura. The tal was black as ebony, but vibrated with an internal crimson glow. Its shape was elegant yet nacing, like sothing that should never have been found.
Albert’s eyes widened when he saw it. He took a hesitant step forward. “This can’t be…”
“Her sword,” Strax murmured, as if saying the na aloud was a way of confirming reality. “It had been sealed inside the Garden of Swords.”
Albert looked shocked. For a mont, his facade of control and royalty completely shattered. He moved closer to the blade, but stopped inches away from touching it, as if he feared the tal would burn his soul.
“I locked it there myself. After… after we found the body.”
“I know,” said Strax. “But she’s not dead. I went to the Garden. I went beyond the seal. The sword was still warm. And more than that…”
He put the sword away carefully, as if it still belonged to soone else.
“Her aura is alive. Pulsing in Caelum.”
Albert was silent for several long seconds. Then he walked slowly in circles, his mind visibly trying to comprehend sothing that contradicted everything he believed.
“Holy shit,” he said.
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