The grand study of Duke Sion Ragnar echoed with the sound of rustling maps and scrolls as Prince Lucien of the Sidom Kingdom sat across from him. The two young leaders, both symbols of rising power in their realms, were deeply immersed in strategy. Trade routes, defensive outposts, and military exercises formed the core of their discussion. Lucien proposed a significant move—establishing a joint military academy where elves and humans would train side by side, uniting their strengths for the inevitable conflicts looming ahead.
Sion, though calm, was calculating. His mind weighed each proposal. Lucien leaned forward and suggested Sion take on the role of personal trainer for select Sidom elites, stating that his experience, strength, and recent victories made him the most capable. To solidify their alliance, Lucien handed Sion a sealed letter—a royal invitation from the King of Sidom himself, requesting his presence at the royal palace.
As they reviewed logistics, a knock interrupted them. A royal messenger from the Persia Dukedom entered, kneeling as he presented a decree from King Nathan. Sion was summoned to the upcoming noble meeting—his attendance mandatory.
With grace, Sion accepted. After the messenger left, Lucien's eyes lingered on Sion with curiosity. "The spell you used—the warp gate to move the royal family of Sidom… how did you manage such magic?"
Sion was silent for a moment, then answered modestly, "It's not perfected… but I've always had a fondness for space-time magic. It's one of the few things I've completely mastered." His tone was casual, but Lucien's eyes widened in awe.
"You've mastered spatial manipulation…?" Lucien whispered. A flicker of thought crossed his expression, but he didn't elaborate. He respectfully excused himself, returning swiftly to his kingdom.
Meanwhile, far in the cursed forest of Leaf, Raphael stood vigilant. The divine seal held firm—barely. The ominous energy of a rampaging demon pulsed against the divine barrier. He knew time was running out. His connection to the heavens shimmered as a divine message arrived. The voice of Goddess Aria spoke with measured grace: "When the time is right, reveal the truth to Sion. The fallen angels, the real war—he must learn in time."
Raphael closed his eyes. "Not yet," he whispered. "He still needs time."
Back in Leaf, the days passed with steady progress. Infrastructure was advancing, the people gradually embracing Sion's leadership. Letters poured in—many praising his efforts, some offering alliances. A few, however, carried more personal intentions: marriage proposals from noble families. Without hesitation, Sion rejected them all. His focus remained unwavering.
With preparations complete, he activated his warp gate. In a flash of pale light, Sion arrived in the Persia Dukedom, striding into the grand chamber where the noble meeting was held. Gasps and whispers followed his entrance. The once-lost son now returned as a force of reckoning.
Among the assembled nobles, not all faces were allies. Hidden among them were traitors—those who still clung to old loyalties and secrets. Their eyes watched Sion closely, but none dared move against him.
And so, the next chapter of intrigue began—under a veil of diplomacy and deceit.