Three weeks after the ceasefire, Iron Hearth returned to its old rhythm.
The factories in the industrial district were back in full operation—chimneys belched white smoke into the grey sky, and the rhythmic thud of casting machines beca a constant backdrop. Lightning Rail trains glided by on schedule, carrying passengers and cargo to every corner of Northreach. The markets were bustling again, shops reopened, and children ran along clean asphalt sidewalks.
The war had ended. For now.
And for the Sudrath family, life—with all its chaos and warmth—had to move forward.
ridoss, Erald Union
The canals of ridoss sparkled under the morning sun as Rumina Sudrath stepped out of the carriage that had brought her from the station. The city hadn’t changed—it was just as busy, just as humid, and just as alien to a nose accustod to the dry air of Northreach.
Madam Vernazza was already waiting in her office. The woman with silver hair and sharp eyes sat behind her blackwood desk, surrounded by shelves filled with ledgers and trade artifacts from across the globe. When Rumina entered, she didn’t stand. She only smiled—a thin, enigmatic smile.
"You’re still alive," she said. "Good."
Rumina sat in the chair opposite her, placing her leather bag on her lap. "I told you I wouldn’t die."
"And you kept your word." Vernazza leaned back. "That’s more than I can say for most of my business partners."
They began to discuss the details. Maps were spread across the table—rail lines that would connect Northreach to the Erald Union, bypassing rivers and hills that had long been barriers to trade. Vernazza pointed to strategic locations: small ports that could serve as transit points, warehouses for rent, and market towns hungry for Sudrath products.
"I will grant you access to the ports here and here." Vernazza marked two spots on the map. "The warehouses are empty. You can use them anyti. As for the costs, we can calculate those later."
Rumina noted everything in her small ledger. "And the security of the routes?"
"That’s your business. You’re the one with the army."
"Of course." Rumina closed her book. "I’ll send a survey team next month."
Vernazza nodded. Then, for the first ti, her smile widened—becoming a bit more sincere. "You know, Miss Sudrath, I’ve traded with dozens of nobles from various kingdoms. Most of them are only good at talking. You... you are different."
Rumina offered a faint smile. "I learned from the best."
Iron Hearth, Alpha Building
On the third floor of the Alpha Building, Rianor Sudrath stood before a large blackboard covered in architectural sketches. He held a piece of chalk, staring at the drawing of a school gate he had just finished—two stone pillars with a wooden arch, flanked by pine trees to be planted later.
Elara sat in her wheelchair beside him, cradling a crystal tablet that displayed building floor plans. Her red hair was tied back loosely, and her face—though still pale—now smiled more often than before.
"What shall we na it?" she asked softly.
Rianor stopped drawing. He gazed at the sketch—the gate, the trees, and behind them, buildings yet to be erected. He rembered the bluish-white flowers that grew in the castle gardens, blooming even in the midst of snow.
"Seruni," he said finally. "The Seruni School."
Elara looked at him, then back at the sketch. Her smile deepened. "I like that."
"A flower that grows in winter." Rianor set down his chalk. "Strong. Unyielding. It suits the children of Northreach."
Elara maneuvered her wheelchair closer, reaching for her husband’s hand. "You will make a fine headmaster."
"I haven’t beco anything yet."
Southern Paddock, Training Grounds
Raphael Sudrath swung his wooden sword for the umpteenth ti.
The target before him—a straw dummy wrapped in thick cloth—was already dented in several places. But Raphael wasn’t satisfied. He took a step back, caught his breath, and attacked again. And again. And again.
"You’ve done enough."
Raphael stopped. He turned to see Riven standing a few ters behind him, arms crossed, his face as stoic as ever.
"I haven’t done enough." Raphael wiped the sweat from his brow. "I’m still too slow."
"You are strong enough." Riven walked over, taking the wooden sword from his younger brother’s hand. "Now, you must learn patience."
"What use is patience when the enemy cos?"
Riven looked at his brother. There was sothing in Raphael’s eyes—the sa fire he used to see in the mirror when he was younger. A fire that could be a source of strength, or self-destruction.
"Patience doesn’t an standing still." Riven returned the wooden sword. "Patience ans knowing when to strike and when to wait. Do you rember the battle at Torshavn?"
Raphael nodded.
"We won not because we were stronger, but because we knew when to hold and when to strike. That is what you must learn."
Raphael stared at the sword in his hand, then at his brother. "I understand."
Riven patted his shoulder—hard enough to make Raphael stagger slightly, but gentle enough to show he was proud. "Good. Now rest. Tomorrow, we train again."
Iron Hearth Castle, Rhea’s Chamber
Rhea Sudrath bit her lip, suppressing the pain radiating from her lower abdon.
Beside her, Elena—in her white doctor’s coat—held her hand, timing the contractions. Two other midwives were busy preparing warm water and clean linens in the corner. The crystal chandeliers on the ceiling glowed dimly, creating a calm atmosphere despite the different kind of battle taking place within the room.
"Just a bit more," Elena said, her voice steady and calm. "You’re strong, Rhea. You’ve been through much harder things than this."
Rhea wanted to retort—to say that giving birth was far more painful than being stabbed with a dagger—but the words caught as the next contraction hit. She could only grip Elena’s hand tighter.
Arvid stood in the corridor outside, pacing like a madman. His already ssy hair was a disaster from constant ruffling. Every ti Rhea’s voice echoed from behind the door, he stopped, held his breath, and then resud his pacing.
"You’re going to put a hole in the floor," Grimm teased as he passed by with clean towels.
"I can’t stand still." Arvid rubbed his face. "What if—"
"There are no ’what ifs’." Grimm looked at him with calm, elderly eyes. "Lady Rhea is strong. And the doctor is the best. Sit down. Drink so tea. Have faith in your wife."
Arvid wanted to argue, but he knew Grimm was right. He sat on the wooden bench in the corridor, cradling his own hands, and waited.
Roland’s Study
Roland Sudrath sat behind his desk, a blank piece of parchnt spread before him. A pen danced between his fingers.
"Seraphina."
He paused. Just that na was enough to make his chest tighten. He took a breath and continued.
"I am still alive. The war is over—for now. I don’t know when we will et again. But I want you to know one thing."
He paused again. He stared at the words he had written, then crossed out the last sentence and replaced it.
"Don’t die before I get there."
That was it. No need for long-winded words. Seraphina would understand.
Roland folded the letter, slipped it into a small tube, and walked to the window. Outside, a white pigeon was already waiting on the balcony—a magic pigeon specifically trained to fly to Draconia. He tied the tube to the bird’s leg and released it.
The pigeon took to the grey sky, flapping its wings toward the east. Roland watched until the bird vanished behind the clouds.
"I’m coming," he whispered. "Wait for ."
Castle Gardens
A light dusting of snow covered the grass in the castle gardens as Raveena and Caelus walked side by side. Lanterns along the path glowed softly, casting gentle shadows over the snow. The cold air bit at them, but neither was in a hurry to go inside.
Caelus took Raveena’s hand. His fingers were warm, contrasting with the chill of the night. Raveena didn’t pull away. She had long since stopped pretending she was uncomfortable with his touch.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Caelus turned. "For what?"
Raveena looked ahead at the line of lanterns. "For staying here. For not leaving when things got difficult. For... choosing ."
Caelus stopped. He gently turned Raveena to face him, looking into her eyes. "I didn’t choose you because there were no other options. I chose you because I wanted to."
Raveena looked down, her cheeks flushing. But she couldn’t hide her smile.
Caelus squeezed her hand tighter. "I’m not going anywhere."
Lucian and Aurelia’s Chamber
Lucian Sudrath stood before his bedroom window, staring south. The snow fell more heavily now, covering the rooftops and streets in a soft white layer. In the distance, the lights of Iron Hearth flickered like stars that had fallen to earth.
Aurelia stood beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder. They didn’t speak for a long ti—just enjoying the silence they hadn’t had in so long.
"Do you rember," Aurelia said finally, "back on Earth, we used to sit like this on the villa balcony. Looking at the lights of Lembang."
Lucian smiled faintly. "I rember. You always complained about the cold but refused to go in."
"Because the view was beautiful." Aurelia gazed out the window. "Just like here."
"Even more beautiful." Lucian wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Here, we have extraordinary children. A grandchild soon to be born. And a city we built together."
Aurelia smiled. "We really are lucky."
"It’s not luck." Lucian kissed the top of her head. "We worked hard for this."
Rhea’s Chamber — A Few Hours Later
The cry of a baby shattered the silence of the night.
Arvid, who was finally allowed in, stood at the threshold with teary eyes. On the bed, Rhea—her face exhausted, her hair damp with sweat—held a tiny figure wrapped in white cloth. A baby girl. Her eyes weren’t open yet, but her small hands were clenched into fists, as if ready to take on the world.
"Co in," Rhea whispered, her voice hoarse but tender.
Arvid stepped closer, his movents cautious, as if afraid to break the mont. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at his daughter for the first ti.
"She... she’s beautiful," he whispered.
"Of course." Rhea offered a tired smile. "She’s mine."
Arvid let out a soft laugh—one mixed with tears. He reached out a finger, and the baby imdiately gripped it with surprising strength.
"She needs a na," Rhea said.
Arvid stared at his daughter for a long ti. He rembered his long journey—from a reclusive professor in an old library to becoming part of the craziest family in Northreach. He never imagined he would end up here. But now, in this mont, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
"Ana," he said finally. "Ana Sudrath."
Rhea repeated the na softly. Then she smiled. "Ana. I like it."
The door opened quietly. Aurelia entered, followed by Lucian. The Duchess of Northreach’s face was already wet with tears before she even reached the bed.
"My grandchild..." she whispered, her hand reaching out hesitantly. "May I...?"
Rhea nodded. Aurelia took Ana from her mother’s arms with incredible care—the movents of a woman who had raised six children and knew exactly how to hold a newborn. She gazed at her granddaughter, and her tears fell again.
"She’s perfect," Aurelia whispered. "Absolutely perfect."
Lucian stood beside his wife, looking down at his granddaughter. His usually hard and cold face softened—just a fraction, but enough to be seen. He didn’t speak. He simply placed a hand on Arvid’s shoulder, gripping it firmly.
"Congratulations," he said at last. His voice was heavy, but warm. "You’ll be a good father."
Arvid couldn’t find the words. He only nodded, his tears finally falling as well.
Outside the window, the snow continued to fall. But inside the room, amidst the gathered family, there was a warmth that no winter could ever freeze.
In the carriage heading back north, Rumina Sudrath received a ssage on her crystal pager. She read it, and for the first ti on that long journey, she smiled.
"Ana Sudrath is born. Mother and baby are healthy. Co ho safe."
She tucked the pager away, staring out the window at the mountains beginning to be blanketed in snow.
"I’m coming ho," she whispered. "Soon."
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