The grand war chamber was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering flames of a large hearth and the faint glow of enchanted sconces mounted on the stone walls. The heavy oak table at the center of the room was strewn with maps, troop manifests, and reports, the tools of a ruler meticulously managing her dominion.
Serena sat at the head of the table, her fingers interlocked, her two index fingers pressed lightly against the bridge of her nose. Her crimson eyes stared at the parchment before her, its ornate seal already broken, the bold scrawl of a king's handwriting glaring back at her. The faint sound of crackling fire filled the silence as she leaned back, her expression unreadable.
Her thoughts churned as she mentally reviewed her forces. The Dark Army: 2,025 strong, a formidable force of disciplined soldiers trained for both land-based combat and siege tactics. The 1st Dark Marine Force: 1,431 elite warriors, versatile in amphibious assaults and naval warfare. Together, her total special forces numbered 3,456—a force meticulously trained to carry out her will with precision and ruthlessness.
She exhaled softly, her fingers sliding apart as she picked up the letter again, her gaze narrowing as she reread the contents.
To, the so-called "Vengeful One," Queen of Celestafell,
Your actions have not gone unnoticed. The village of Ashenfeld lies within the borders of Valtheria, my kingdom. Your intrusion and subsequent occupation of my territory are unacceptable and will not be tolerated.
Consider this your warning: withdraw your forces immediately and surrender all lands you have claimed under my banner. Refuse, and I will take back what is mine by force.
King Roderic of Valtheria.
The signature was bold and sprawling, a clear attempt to impose authority. But as Serena lowered the letter, a wicked smile spread across her lips, the sharp glint in her eyes betraying her delight.
"Roderic of Valtheria," she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement. "You don't appreciate my 'trampling on your territory,' do you? How quaint."
She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table as her fingers steepled once more. Her mind worked quickly, analyzing the situation from every angle. Valtheria was a large kingdom, known for its sprawling trade routes and heavily fortified cities. Roderic had a reputation as a ruler who valued appearances over true strength, a man who relied on the loyalty of nobles more concerned with their own coffers than the defense of their borders.
"He thinks he can reclaim what 'belongs to him,'" Serena said to no one in particular, the amusement in her tone only growing. "How delightfully naïve."
In the corner of her vision, Great Sage materialized, its calm voice breaking the silence. "Analysis of Valtheria indicates a standing army of approximately 7,000. However, their forces are spread thin across multiple borders and trade routes. The likelihood of Roderic mobilizing a substantial force for a single village is low."
Serena's smile widened. "So, he blusters without bite. Typical. But let's not underestimate him entirely. Even a weak king can be dangerous if cornered."
"Indeed, my Lady," Great Sage replied. "However, based on the strength and mobility of your forces, Celestafell holds a significant tactical advantage. A direct engagement would likely favor your forces, particularly with the specialized training of your Dark Army and Dark Marine Force."
Serena chuckled softly, setting the letter down and tracing a finger over the map before her. Her mind was already crafting strategies, envisioning the possibilities. "He wants me to withdraw? How generous. I'll consider it… once I've carved my banner into every corner of his kingdom."
Her voice carried a sharp edge of delight, a predator relishing the challenge presented by her prey. For too long, her forces had been preparing for a larger conflict, and now, an opportunity had presented itself.
"Roderic thinks he's dealing with another squabbling lord or a petty tyrant," she murmured, leaning back in her chair. "He has no idea what's coming. Let him march his forces. Let him send his threats. By the time he realizes his mistake, it will be too late."
She reached for her quill, dipping it into the inkwell as she began drafting her response, her grin never fading. This was the spark she had been waiting for, the opportunity to expand Celestafell's reach and cement her dominance.
As the firelight danced across her features, Serena's resolve hardened. Roderic wanted a fight, and she was more than willing to give him one. Valtheria would soon learn what it meant to challenge the Vengeful One.
The vast training grounds outside Celestafell stretched out like a sea of black and steel, the combined forces of Serena's Dark Army and Dark Marine Forces standing in perfect formation. Over six thousand soldiers—6,126 to be exact—stood in disciplined rows, their dark armor gleaming under the overcast sky, their weapons at their sides. The air was electric, charged with the tension of an impending storm—not one from the skies, but one brewing in their hearts and in their queen's words.
Serena stood atop a raised platform, her black cloak flowing like liquid shadow behind her, her crimson eyes scanning the assembly with a calm yet commanding presence. At her back were her generals, lieutenants, and sergeants, all silent and poised, waiting for their queen to speak.
She took a step forward, her boots clicking against the wooden platform, and raised her hands slightly. The murmurs among the soldiers ceased immediately, the only sound remaining the faint rustle of the breeze against their banners.
"Soldiers of Celestafell," she began, her voice carrying across the field with a clarity and weight that demanded attention. "You stand here today not as mere troops, but as the shield and spear of a kingdom reborn. For months, you have trained, bled, and endured to become the forces that will protect not only Celestafell but all those who seek refuge under its banner."
She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as her tone hardened. "Yet today, a shadow looms on the horizon. Not of our making, but of one man's arrogance. King Roderic of Valtheria has dared to challenge us, claiming that the lands I have reclaimed—lands once crushed under the heel of banditry and neglect—belong to him."
A low murmur rippled through the ranks, a wave of discontent and indignation that spread like fire. At the forefront, the 36 Marines and the initial remnants of the Dark Army, those who had seen the horrors of Ashenfeld firsthand, roared in protest. Their voices carried fury, their anger directed not only at Roderic but at the injustice he represented.
Serena raised a single gloved hand, her palm outstretched. The gesture was calm but carried an authority that silenced the crowd instantly. The soldiers straightened, their anger quelled but not extinguished.
"I understand your anger," she said, her voice softer now but no less powerful. "I understand because I share it. I saw what you saw in Ashenfeld. I saw the broken homes, the frightened faces, the scars left by years of neglect. And I saw the courage of those who dared to hope, who dared to believe that someone would finally stand for them."
Her gaze swept over the assembly, her eyes locking briefly with several soldiers as if addressing them personally. "And that is why we are here today. Not just to defend what we have claimed, but to send a message—to Roderic, to Valtheria, and to anyone else who would dare threaten what we've built."
Her voice rose, resonating with an edge of steel. "This is not a war of conquest. This is a war of justice. A war to ensure that no tyrant, no king who hoards power while his people suffer, will ever lay claim to what rightfully belongs to those who live and work it. Ashenfeld is no longer his to abuse—it is ours to protect."
A cheer began to rise again, but Serena's raised hand stopped it before it could crescendo. The soldiers leaned forward slightly, eager to hear her next words.
"You are angry, and that anger is justified. But anger alone does not win battles. Discipline, strategy, unity—these are what make us unstoppable. That is why we are here, together, organizing, preparing. When we march, we march as one, and when we strike, we strike with the force of inevitability."
She stepped forward again, her crimson eyes blazing with determination. "You have trained for this. You have been forged in fire and shadow, and now you stand as the greatest force this kingdom has ever seen. Together, we will show Roderic and the world that Celestafell does not bow, does not break, and will never be taken lightly."
The soldiers erupted into cheers, their voices thundering across the training grounds. The Marines, the Dark Army, and every officer present roared their approval, their fists raised in unity. The ground seemed to tremble under the weight of their voices, a promise of the storm that was to come.
Serena remained on the platform, her dark cloak flowing behind her like a shadow given form. Her crimson eyes swept across her soldiers, taking in the sea of black armor and resolute faces. The cheers had died down, leaving a heavy silence charged with anticipation. The tension in the air was palpable, every soldier standing taller, awaiting her next command.
She raised both hands, her voice booming with an authority that sent shivers through the ranks. "Before you go, before you ready yourselves for the battle ahead, I want you to remember why you are here. Why you are mine."
The soldiers straightened even further, their gazes fixed on their queen as her voice sharpened.
"What is your duty?" Serena bellowed, her voice ringing across the training grounds.
The soldiers roared back in unison, their voices shaking the very air. "To serve the Queen's Will!"
"What is the Queen's Will?" she shouted, stepping forward, her eyes blazing.
"That we fight and die!" the troops answered, their words thunderous.
"What is death?" she cried, her voice rising, her arms spread wide as if embracing their fervor.
"It is our Duty!" they bellowed, the declaration reverberating like a war drum.
Serena smirked, satisfaction flickering in her expression. But she wasn't done. She raised her hands again, her tone more commanding than before. "Again! Let them hear you in the city, in their homes! Let them know the force that marches under my banner!"
"What is your duty?"
"To serve the Queen's Will!"
"What is the Queen's Will?"
"That we fight and die!"
"What is death?"
"It is our Duty!"
The sound grew louder, the synchronized roar of over six thousand voices rolling over the fields and toward the distant city walls. Even the birds that had nested in the nearby trees took flight, startled by the sheer intensity of the sound. Serena's smile widened, her heart swelling with pride at the unity and discipline of her forces.
"Once more!" she demanded, her tone fierce, her presence magnetic.
"What is your duty?"
"To serve the Queen's Will!"
"What is the Queen's Will?"
"That we fight and die!"
"What is death?"
"It is our Duty!"
The shout grew deafening, carrying beyond the training grounds, beyond the gates of Celestafell, into the streets and homes of its people. Lights flickered on in the distant windows as citizens paused to listen, their hearts swelling with both awe and unease at the power of the declaration.
Serena's gaze swept her soldiers again, her voice dropping to a chilling growl. "Again! We will not stop until every soul in this city hears you! Until they know the strength of Celestafell!"
The chant repeated two more times, the voices of her soldiers reaching a crescendo, their energy reaching a fever pitch. By the final chant, their throats were raw, but their spirits burned with unyielding resolve.
Serena raised her hand one final time, her command cutting through the echo of their voices. "Enough! You have done well. Let the city know we march not as a force of chaos but of justice. Ready yourselves for what's to come. You are dismissed."
The soldiers saluted in perfect unison before dispersing, their movements purposeful as they began their preparations. Serena remained on the platform, watching them with a predatory smile. Their shouts still rang in her ears, a promise of the unstoppable force she had forged.
The grand chamber was unusually quiet, save for the faint scratching of a quill against parchment. Serena sat at her massive desk, her crimson eyes narrowed in focus as she worked through the weekly buildup of reports, requests, and logistical updates that had been delayed while she prepared her forces. Her movements were precise, her quill gliding smoothly over the paper as she signed off on one document after another.
The heavy double doors burst open with a loud thud, and Lucien strode in, his emerald eyes blazing with a mix of anger and urgency. His boots echoed sharply against the polished stone floor as he marched toward her desk, his presence as commanding as he could muster.
"Your Majesty," he began, his voice sharp with frustration, his tone emphasizing the title with pointed deliberation. He still didn't know her name—only the many titles she had claimed—but in this moment, he wielded it like a blade. "I demand you relinquish that village you've claimed! This madness has gone on long enough!"
Serena paused mid-signature, her eyes flicking up from her work. Her expression shifted into a slow, deliberate frown, her hand placing the quill neatly down beside the parchment. She leaned back in her chair, her crimson gaze locking onto his with an intensity that made the room feel smaller.
"You must be looking for an express pass to the gallows," she said coolly, her voice laced with just enough venom to make the air hum with tension. "Explain yourself before I lose my patience entirely."
Lucien planted his hands firmly on her desk, leaning in as his voice rose. "King Roderic comes from a military background that Celestafell can't even dream of matching! He's commanded armies larger than this entire kingdom, and his soldiers are battle-hardened veterans. You're not dealing with scattered bandits this time—this is a kingdom that knows war! If you think you can stand against that kind of force, you're delusional!"
For a moment, Serena stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, her lips curled into a wicked smile, sharp and predatory, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Is that so? Roderic's illustrious military background has you trembling in your boots? How quaint."
Lucien straightened, his frustration mounting. "This isn't a trivial matter, Your Majesty. This is a war you can't win. You'll throw everything away—your soldiers, this kingdom—for one village that isn't even worth the risk."
Serena rose from her chair with deliberate grace, her movements slow but purposeful. She stepped around the desk, her cloak trailing behind her as she approached him. Her gaze never wavered, her smile widening as she gestured toward the door.
"Come with me, Lucien," she said, her tone almost playful, though it carried an edge that made it clear she wasn't asking. "Let me show you why your fears are as insignificant as King Roderic's claims."
Lucien hesitated but followed her out of the chamber, his frustration tempered only by curiosity. They walked in tense silence, their boots echoing down the long halls until they emerged into the open air of the training grounds.
Before them stood rows upon rows of Dark Army soldiers and Marines, their black armor gleaming under the midday sun. They moved in perfect synchronization, their drills executed with a precision that bordered on mechanical. The air buzzed with the sound of clashing weapons, shouted orders, and the rhythmic stomp of boots.
Serena strode to the edge of the training grounds, her presence alone commanding the attention of the troops. At the sight of their queen, the soldiers stopped their movements, snapping to attention with a unified salutation.
She raised a hand, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "What is your duty?"
The soldiers roared back, their voices thunderous. "To serve the Queen's Will!"
"What is the Queen's Will?" she shouted, her eyes blazing with authority.
"That we fight and die!" they replied, the ground seeming to tremble beneath the force of their declaration.
"What is death?" she cried, her voice carrying with it the weight of an unbreakable will.
"It is our duty!" they bellowed, the words echoing across the grounds and into the castle beyond.
Lucien stared in stunned silence, his earlier protests caught in his throat. The sheer power and pride radiating from the troops were undeniable, their devotion to their queen etched into every movement, every word. This wasn't just an army—this was a force of nature, a manifestation of Serena's unyielding vision.
She turned to him, her smile sharp and knowing. "Do you see now, Lucien? This is not some fragile kingdom cowering before a larger power. This is Celestafell. These are my soldiers—my Marines. They fight not because they are forced, but because they believe. Roderic may have numbers, but he has nothing like this."
Lucien swallowed hard, his frustration giving way to a reluctant, dawning respect. "They… they're unlike anything I've ever seen," he admitted, his voice quieter now.
Serena stepped closer, her crimson eyes locking onto his. "And they will fight not just for me, but for this kingdom, for the people we protect. If Roderic wants to test their resolve, let him try. But know this, Lucien—Celestafell does not bow. Not to him, not to anyone."
She turned back to her troops, her voice rising once more. "What is your duty?"
"To serve the Queen's Will!" they roared, their voices echoing like thunder.
Lucien stood in silence, his earlier doubts now overshadowed by the undeniable truth: Serena's kingdom was no fragile flower to be trampled by a foreign king. It was a force to be reckoned with, and she was the unstoppable storm at its center.
As the roar of the troops began to fade, the training grounds quieted once more, leaving only the faint echo of their unified chants lingering in the air. Lucien stood beside Serena, his emerald eyes still wide with the intensity of what he had just witnessed. The sheer strength and unity of her forces were undeniable, but the weight of his earlier fears hadn't entirely lifted.
Serena turned to him, her sharp crimson eyes softening as she stepped closer. For a moment, she simply studied his face, her expression unreadable. Then, with deliberate gentleness, she raised both hands and cupped his face, her gloved fingers brushing against his skin.
"Lucien," she said softly, her voice a stark contrast to the commanding tone she had used moments before. "Don't worry. Trust in me. Trust in your queen."
Her touch was surprisingly tender, her thumbs tracing faint circles on his cheekbones as she held his gaze. "I know you're afraid—afraid of what could happen, of what we might face. But I need you to believe in me and the forces I command. We are stronger than anything Roderic could send our way. And you…" She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "You are the one who stands by my side, not in fear, but in strength. That is all I ask of you."
Lucien's breath hitched slightly, his emerald eyes searching hers for any hint of doubt, but he found none. Her confidence was unshakable, her conviction a fortress that refused to yield. It was intoxicating, overwhelming in a way he wasn't prepared for.
Before he could respond, Serena tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint, almost mischievous smile. "Trust in me, Lucien. I won't let you—or Celestafell—fall."
Then, without warning, she leaned in and captured his lips in a deep, deliberate kiss. It wasn't hurried or fleeting; it was commanding, passionate, and full of the confidence that defined her. Her hands remained on his face, holding him there, grounding him in the moment as her cloak billowed faintly in the cool breeze.
Lucien froze for half a second, startled, before his hands instinctively moved to her waist, pulling her closer. He kissed her back with equal intensity, his earlier doubts momentarily melting away under the weight of her presence. It wasn't just a kiss—it was a declaration, a reassurance that she was as much in control of this moment as she was of the army behind her.
When she finally pulled back, her crimson eyes locked onto his, her breath mingling with his in the narrow space between them. "There," she said softly, her voice carrying a faint trace of amusement. "Do you feel it now? The strength I command? The promise I made? I will not fail you, Lucien. I will not fail this kingdom."
Lucien blinked, his heart pounding as her words sank in. He gave a small nod, his hands still resting at her waist. "I… I'll trust you," he said, his voice quieter now but carrying a newfound sincerity. "I'll trust in my queen."
Serena smiled, her confidence unwavering. She stepped back, her hands slipping away from his face, though the warmth of her touch lingered. "Good. Now, let's prepare for what's to come. There's work to be done."
With that, she turned on her heel, her cloak swirling behind her as she strode back toward the castle. Lucien watched her go, his mind racing, but his heart—despite everything—felt lighter than it had in weeks. For the first time, he began to believe in her words, in her power, and in the unshakable force that was the Vengeful One.