Two months. In just two months, Alpheo would finally lay eyes on his firstborn, a child destined to carry his blood and his legacy into the future. The thought filled him with a mix of exhilaration and nervous energy that refused to be quelled, no matter how much he tried to distract himself with his duties. He had always dread of becoming a father, whether in the life he had left behind or the one he now lived. The notion of guiding a young soul, of seeing a part of himself reflected in the eyes of another, had always been a quiet but persistent longing.
Now, that dream was about to beco reality. The knowledge that his child would soon take their first breath in this world made his heart feel as though it were caught between a roaring tide and the steady beat of a war drum. A strange warmth filled him, perhaps the primal joy that ca with the understanding that life was about to be created, not rely in a general sense, but his life—an extension of himself .
Alpheo found himself daydreaming more often than he cared to admit, imagining what his child might look like.
As the date of birth lood ever closer, Jasmine's strength waned, leaving her increasingly fatigued. What energy she could muster was focused on preparing for the monuntal day ahead, leaving Alpheo to shoulder the responsibilities of governance. He ruled in her stead, his days consud by an endless stream of tasks that left him no ti for his usual pursuits. The court's petitions, disputes among small nobles in the crown's lands who would argue on which village was theirs and which was not , and the mountain of reports requiring review all landed squarely in his lap. Even the decisions Jasmine had previously delegated to him were now entirely his burden to bear without any help .
Today was no exception. Alpheo sat in the grand chamber of the palace, dressed in the finest robes befitting his station. Every seam, every stitch of his garnt scread princely authority—silks dyed in deep crimson, embroidered with golden thread that caught the light with every movent. It was a far cry from his preferred attire, sothing simpler and more practical. But today, appearance was as important as action. He gritted his teeth and endured the cumberso clothing, knowing that presentation mattered now more than ever.
An envoy from one of the strongest imperial families, the Veritia, was set to arrive.
Alpheo had heard the rumors, as they weren't the kind you could ignore. The Rolians were planning to bring Harmway under imperial control, a bold move especially in the middle of a civil war. The task had been handed to Lisidor Veritia, patriarch of the mighty Veritia family. Whatever rewards the regent had promised to get Lisidor on board must have been massive—bigger than the usual perks of imperial politics. Which unfortunately he wan't privy to.
This wasn't Alpheo's first ti hosting envoys from imperial nobles. Over the previous year, they'd sent their silver-tongued ssengers to his court, hoping to strike trade deals. But Alpheo had always turned them down, politely but firmly. His alliance with the regent of the young emperor was useful and he did not want to risk it for more coins.
This visit, though, felt different. Alpheo doubted the Veritia family had crossed the sea just to talk trade. Sure Lisidor had many interests in the sea-trade, but right now he was dealing with war not trade. Alpheo couldn't shake the feeling that this eting wasn't about goods—it was about conquest. Harmway was the prize, and Alpheo's princedom could be a chess to get it .
The Rolians must have already received reports about my growing fleet. There was no hiding it, not that I even attempted to, after all why would I? Alpheo found himself grinning uncosciously , why would he not? With a proper fleet his possibilities, be it in war and in peace were endless.
He had spent much effort on it , after all and it was only proper that they returned the investnt.
His fleet had grown to an impressive twenty vessels. Seventeen of them were simple galleys—reliable and swift.
The real jewel in his arsenal, however, were the three mighty galleasses. Towering over the galleys, these behemoths were built for more than speed—they were built for dominance. Their reinforced hulls and ramming prows could cut through a galley as if it were made of paper, leaving behind a trail of splinters and despair.
Of course, that kind of power didn't co cheap. Each galleass had cost him a small fortune—at least 6,000 silverii per ship, a staggering expense compared to the galleys. Yet the investnt was worth it. With these warships at his command, Alpheo could rightfully claim to have the strongest navy among the southern princedoms. Which ant that he had the undisputed control over the sea, and that he could easily move his army across the sea to strike deep into enemy's territory while also having allowing him to carry supply by sea, without fear of them being radied by cavalry deep inside his line.
The grand double doors of the throne hall groaned open, their iron hinges protesting softly. Into the room stepped a man flanked by a pair of armored guards, their polished breastplates reflecting the dim light of the chamber's hanging chandeliers. The man in the center, clearly the envoy, bowed softly
He wore a richly embroidered tunic of deep crimson, trimd with golden thread that caught the light with every step. His boots, polished to a mirror shine, clicked against the stone floor as he approached. The man's features were sharp, his jawline clean-shaven and angular, with a thin mustache that curled slightly at its ends. His dark hair was swept back and slick with oil, revealing a high forehead that lent him an air of intellect—or arrogance, depending on the perspective. A badge pinned to his chest bore the sigil of the Veritia family.
It was imdiately clear to Alpheo that this man was not Doria, the regent's personal envoy.
"Your Highness," the envoy began, his voice smooth as silk but with an undercurrent of steel, "I bring the warst regards of the esteed Veritia family to a friend of the empire.My congratulations over your victories against the prince of Herculia. The whispers of your triumph have traveled far, even reaching the ears of my lord."
Alpheo inclined his head graciously, though his smile was carefully asured. "You are most kind to say so. It was a campaign that demanded much from both myself and those who stood beside . And please let extend the gratitude of Yarzat for your visit. It is an honor to host an envoy from one of the most illustrious families in the empire."
With the pleasantries exchanged, Alpheo gestured toward the empty seat beside his throne, ant for Jasmine. "I must, however, begin with an apology. My wife, Princess Jasmine, cannot join us today. As you may have heard, we are expecting a child soon. Her health takes precedence over all."
The envoy's expression shifted ever so slightly, his lips curving into a gracious smile. "But of course, Your Highness. Please accept my heartfelt congratulations to you both. A royal heir—what joyous news indeed! May your lineage grow strong and prosperous."
"Thank you," Alpheo replied with a small nod. "It has been a long-anticipated blessing."
Alpheo's smile remained fixed, warm but practiced, as he clasped his hands together. "It must have been a long and arduous journey for you to reach our shores," he said, his tone laced with polite concern. "As a host, it is only proper that I extend the hospitality of Yarzat to you. Rest and refresh yourself—our land is your ho for as long as you may need."
The envoy inclined his head slightly, his smile just as rehearsed. "Your Highness is most gracious."
Alpheo, not missing a beat, gestured toward the side of the hall where an older figure stood. "As for the business you've traveled to conduct, it would be prudent to initiate discussions with Lord Shahab. I trust you will find him both knowledgeable and accommodating."
Shahab, Jasmine's grandfather, stepped forward as he then turned to the envoy, offering a respectful nod. "Dear Envoy of the Veritia's household ," Shahab said in a rich, steady voice, "it will be my honor to discuss the matters you have brought to our esteed city. I look forward to an enlightening conversation."
The envoy returned the gesture with equal formality. '' I am eager to begin our discussions then. "
With that, Alpheo leaned back on the throne, signaling the conclusion of their exchange. Shahab turned toward the hall's exit, gesturing for the envoy to follow. The envoy offered Alpheo a final bow. "Your Highness, I thank you again for your hospitality. Until we speak again."
"Of course," Alpheo replied smoothly, watching as the envoy and Shahab departed. The rhythmic clinking of the guards' armor echoed through the chamber until the doors shut firmly behind them.
Alpheo sat back in his seat, the weight of the envoy's visit settling on him like a slow tide
They're here to gauge my position. To see if they can use in their grand designs against the pirates. Alpheo couldn't suppress a small chuckle. It feels good to have actual naval power, to know that I have actual power to interfere with other's nations. His fingers drumd lightly on the armrest as he considered the implications.
But it's not a bad thing, he continued to muse, a grin forming on his lips. The pirates have been a thorn in my side for far too long. If they want to co in and clean up that ss for , well, there's nothing wrong with a little help, as long as the price is right. His eyes narrowed, calculating.
There isn't much they can offer , he mused. After all, I don't trade with them. They're not my neighbors. The only thing that could make this worthwhile is a chunk of Harmway's inco . That should be enough to satisfy my interests. After all, my trade is mostly on land.Yes, of course the pirates are a not on my side, but for the most part they don't harm too much.
With a final, decisive thought, he stood from his seat as he prepared to retire in his room as he was the last petitioner of the day, a slight smirk curling at the edge of his lips. Let's see if they'll play my ga.
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