Dawn brought with it an unusual silence.Along the walls of the Kingdom of Carpathia, the bells did not toll; the wind barely stirred the banners.Yet within the halls of the royal palace, that silence was the prelude to a storm.

  A messenger burst into the council chamber, covered in dust and dried blood.He fell to his knees before the throne, extending a scroll sealed with the emblem of the Valtherion Empire: the three-winged hawk.

  "Your Majesty…" his voice trembled. "The third imperial prince is dead… on the kingdom's soil."

  The king rose, the clatter of his armor echoing like thunder.The nobles present exchanged pale, uneasy glances.Only one sentence broke the silence:

  "The Empire… will demand blood for blood."

  Gray skies loomed over the capital of Carpathia as the imperial herald passed through the main gates.

  He wore a crimson cloak and carried a golden banner bearing the emblem of the Empire's two-headed dragon.His pace was slow and deliberate, and behind him rode six knights in black armor atop warhorses clad in metal plates.Each strike of hooves against the cobblestones sounded like an omen.

  For two weeks, rumors of the assassination of Ninth Prince Leopoldo Ferrussi had shaken the courts.The Empire accused the kingdom of conspiring in his death.Nobles whispered in low tones, temples prayed for peace… yet no one truly believed in it anymore.

  When the herald reached the center of the main square, he unfurled a scroll sealed with red wax.His voice, amplified by a spell, thundered over the rooftops:

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  "By the decree of the Sacred Emperor Ardeus Ferrussi Becker, bearer of the crown of a thousand kingdoms, it is declared that imperial blood has been spilled on foreign soil.The Kingdom of Carpathia has committed a crime against the divinity of the Empire, and is hereby offered a chance at redemption before punishment is enacted."

  The silence was absolute. Only the wind stirred the kingdom's banners, still intact atop the towers.

  "The Emperor grants three conditions to avert total war:"

  The herald raised a gloved hand, and a blue flame traced each point in the air.

  The unconditional surrender of the Kingdom of Carpathia, accepting its status as a vassal and pledging eternal loyalty to the imperial throne.

  The immediate handover of Lusian Douglas of Mondring, accused of instigating the attack on Prince Leopoldo.

  The dispatch of ten thousand Carpathian soldiers to the eastern front, to serve under the imperial banner in Spartacus' campaign.

  The final words echoed with a chilling resonance:

  "The Kingdom has seven days to respond. After that, the legions will march."

  The hall remained silent when the doors of the private chamber shut with a sharp, final thud.

  Only the king, the royal archmage, and three trusted advisers remained inside. Outside, the wind lashed against the banners. Within, no one breathed evenly.

  The king stood beside the map table, unmoving.

  "If we hand the boy over… the Empire will gain more than a hostage."

  No one answered.

  The elderly archmage narrowed his eyes.

  "Your Majesty…"

  "Bring the Record."

  The words fell into the chamber like a sentence pronounced.

  The archmage turned the brittle pages.

  "Arcane doctrine maintains that a descendant's maximum affinity is determined by the maternal line…"

  He looked up.

  "Omega does not merely increase power. It distorts surrounding arcane fields."

  Silence tightened.

  "And three sealed cases… exceeded maternal limitation."

  The king's jaw hardened.

  "So the Empire does not want a prisoner."

  He stared at the map.

  "They want a threshold."