The throne room was bathed in the dim glow of evening light as Serena leaned back on her throne, her crimson eyes fixed on the banner resting across the arm of her seat. It was tattered, stained with dirt and blood, and bore the crest of a foreign kingdom—Voltheris, a small but bold state known for its overconfidence and reliance on sheer numbers rather than discipline. They had dared to challenge Celestafell and had paid the price. The 17th Battalion had returned victorious, 300 of her finest soldiers annihilating a force of 700 Voltherian troops without a single casualty.
Serena smirked, her fingers tapping idly against the throne. The banner was not just a trophy; it was a warning to those who would think to test her might. But now, there was another lesson to teach, and she knew exactly who needed to learn it.
She straightened, her voice ringing out through the chamber. "Summon Grand Commandant Lian. Now."
Moments later, the doors to the throne room opened, and Lian entered, her boots clicking sharply against the stone floor. She saluted crisply, her expression a mix of curiosity and readiness. "My Lady, you summoned me?"
Serena gestured for her to approach, the smirk on her lips fading into something more calculating. "Yes, Lian. It's time for you and your Marines to gain some battlefield experience."
Lian's brow furrowed slightly, her hesitation evident. "Battlefield experience, my Lady? Against who? Has another force challenged us?"
Serena leaned forward, her fingers brushing against the Voltherian banner. "Voltheris thought themselves bold, sending 700 of their troops against my 17th Battalion. They were slaughtered to the last man. Not a single one of my soldiers fell."
Lian's eyes widened slightly, her gaze flicking to the banner. "Your Majesty, that's… incredible. But if the 17th handled the threat, why summon me?"
Serena's smirk returned, her crimson gaze locking onto Lian's. "Because, Grand Commandant, Voltheris is a proud kingdom. They will not let this insult go unanswered. They will retaliate—and this time, they will come in greater numbers, with more desperation. It is the perfect opportunity for your Marines to prove themselves."
Lian swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. "My Lady, the Marines are disciplined, but—"
"But inexperienced," Serena interrupted smoothly, her tone sharp but not unkind. "And that is precisely why you will lead them. It is time for them to learn what it means to fight for Celestafell—not just in drills or simulations, but on a real battlefield. You will show them what it means to serve their queen. To serve their kingdom."
Lian hesitated, her expression conflicted. "But, my Lady… what if they fail? What if I fail?"
Serena rose from her throne, stepping down from the dais to stand directly in front of Lian. Her presence was commanding, her crimson eyes burning with intensity as she placed a firm hand on Lian's shoulder. "Failure is not an option, Lian. You have trained for this. Your Marines have trained for this. The 17th has already shown what Celestafell's forces are capable of. Now it's your turn. Prove to me, to them, and to the world, that the Marines are more than just soldiers—they are conquerors."
Lian's resolve seemed to harden under Serena's gaze. She straightened, her hand rising instinctively to the hilt of her sword as she nodded. "Yes, my Lady. I won't let you down. The Marines won't let you down."
Serena's smirk widened, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Good. Prepare your forces. Voltheris won't know what hit them. And, Lian… bring me their banners. Every last one of them."
Lian saluted sharply. "It will be done, my Lady."
As Lian turned and strode out of the throne room, Serena returned to her throne, her fingers tracing the edges of the Voltherian banner. A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she leaned back, her mind already envisioning the outcome.
"Voltheris thought they could pick a fight with Celestafell," she murmured to herself. "Now they'll learn what it means to lose."
The throne room was bathed in the faint glow of the enchanted sconces lining the walls as Serena leaned back in her throne, her crimson eyes fixed on the map spread across the small table beside her. She traced the edges of her territory, her fingers pausing over Ashenton, a recently fortified village and key position near the border of Valtheria. The thought of King Roderic's next move tugged at the corners of her mind like a faint whisper of a storm on the horizon.
"Summon Grand Commander Darius," she said, her voice steady but carrying the weight of authority.
Moments later, the grand doors creaked open, and Grand Commander Darius Draven stepped inside. His towering frame was clad in black armor trimmed with silver, the insignia of the 1st Dark Army emblazoned proudly on his chest. His sharp, hawk-like features and piercing amber eyes gave him an imposing presence, but his movements were fluid, almost predatory, as he approached the throne and saluted.
"My Lady, you summoned me?" he asked, his deep voice reverberating through the chamber.
Serena gestured to the map with a flick of her hand. "Yes, Darius. I need an additional battalion sent to Ashenton. Immediately."
Darius arched a brow but didn't hesitate. "Of course, my Lady. May I ask why? Has something happened?"
Serena leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharp. "Not yet, but it will. Voltheris's skirmish with the 17th wasn't random. It was calculated—a test, likely influenced by Roderic's ambitions. Ashenton is a vulnerable position on our border, and Roderic isn't the type to let a perceived slight go unanswered. If he moves, it will be there. I intend for him to find more than he bargained for."
Darius studied the map for a moment, his sharp mind piecing together her reasoning. He nodded slowly, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "A preemptive strike of sorts, then. Reinforce the position before it's threatened. A sound strategy, my Lady."
"Not just sound, Darius," Serena said, her tone firm. "Necessary. Roderic is predictable in his arrogance, but arrogance can be dangerous when paired with desperation. The battalion I'm sending isn't just to defend—it's to remind him what happens when he dares to challenge Celestafell. He will not find weakness. He will find resolve. And he will lose. Again."
Darius's amber eyes gleamed with excitement at her words. The thought of executing her orders and proving the might of the 1st Dark Army made his chest swell with pride. To make her proud—that was what drove him and his soldiers forward, what pushed them to exceed even their own expectations.
"It will be done, my Lady," he said, his voice steady but carrying a note of fervor. "The additional battalion will be deployed to Ashenton within the day. We will fortify it further and ensure it is impenetrable. You will have nothing to worry about."
Serena's crimson gaze locked onto his, her smirk returning. "Good. I trust you, Darius. See to it that Ashenton stands as a monument to our strength. And when Roderic makes his move, let him see the full might of the 1st Dark Army."
Darius saluted again, his fist thudding against his chest plate with a resounding clang. "By your will, my Lady. I won't fail you."
As he turned and strode from the throne room, his mind was already racing with plans. The thought of fulfilling her expectations sent a jolt of energy through him. To earn her approval, to see that glint of pride in her crimson eyes—that was worth any effort, any sacrifice.
Serena watched him go, her fingers lightly tapping the armrest of her throne. Her gaze drifted back to the map, her mind calculating the possibilities.
"Roderic," she murmured to herself, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Let's see how far you're willing to go—and how quickly you'll fall."
The crisp morning air carried the faint clang of metal and the rhythmic sound of boots against stone as Serena made her way to the garrison. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a golden glow over the bustling courtyard where 1,500 Marines and the soldiers of the 21st Battalion stood assembled in perfect formation. Their armor gleamed, black as midnight and accented with intricate silver etchings that shimmered faintly under the light. Their weapons—swords, halberds, and crossbows—were polished to a mirror sheen, each one a masterpiece forged by the finest smiths of Celestafell.
As Serena approached, her black cloak billowed behind her, the sharp clicks of her boots on the stone commanding the attention of every soldier present. The courtyard fell silent, save for the faint rustle of banners in the wind. Her crimson eyes swept over the ranks, her expression unreadable but her presence magnetic. Each Marine and soldier stood straighter under her gaze, their resolve hardening as they waited for their queen to speak.
Serena ascended the platform at the center of the courtyard, turning to face her assembled forces. For a moment, she let the silence linger, her sharp gaze sweeping across the crowd. Then, with a voice that carried both authority and warmth, she began.
"Men and women of the 1st Dark Marine Forces and the 21st Battalion," she said, her tone steady and commanding. "Today, you stand here not as mere soldiers, but as the mightiest forces Celestafell has to offer. You are the shield and spear of this kingdom, the vanguard of its strength, and the embodiment of its resolve."
Her eyes locked onto several faces in the crowd, her voice rising slightly as she continued. "Each of you has trained tirelessly, honed your skills, and forged yourselves into warriors of unparalleled discipline and power. You wear the finest armor our forges can produce. You wield weapons that are not just tools of war, but symbols of your commitment and excellence. And you… you are unstoppable."
A faint murmur rippled through the ranks, the soldiers straightening further under her words. Serena's lips curved into a faint smile, her crimson eyes gleaming with pride.
"I believe in every one of you. Not because of your titles, or your training, or the steel you carry—but because I have seen your strength. I have seen your courage, your determination, and your unyielding loyalty. You are the pride of Celestafell, and I would not send you into battle if I did not believe you were ready to triumph."
Her voice grew sharper, her words cutting through the air like a blade. "The enemies of Celestafell think they can challenge us. They believe they can outnumber us, outmaneuver us, and overpower us. But they are wrong. They do not know what you are capable of. They do not understand that you are not just soldiers—you are conquerors. You are the storm that will sweep them aside, the force they will never see coming."
The tension in the air was palpable now, every soldier hanging on her words, their breaths steady but their hearts racing.
Serena raised a gloved hand, pointing toward the horizon. "When you march, you march as the will of Celestafell. When you fight, you fight not just for this kingdom, but for its people, for its future, for everything we have built together. And when you win—and you will win—let the world know that it was you who stood unbroken, unyielding, and unstoppable."
She stepped forward, her gaze fierce and unwavering. "I believe in you because you have given me every reason to. And now, I ask only this: believe in yourselves. Believe in your comrades. And believe that together, you will be victorious."
The courtyard erupted in a thunderous cheer, the soldiers and Marines raising their fists in unison. The sound was deafening, a roar of unity and resolve that seemed to shake the very ground beneath them.
Serena stood tall, her presence commanding as she let the cheers wash over her. She raised a hand, silencing them once more, her voice ringing out with finality. "You are Celestafell's finest. You are unstoppable. Now, prove it. Dismissed."
The soldiers saluted sharply, their movements precise and disciplined as they began their preparations. As Serena descended from the platform, she allowed herself a rare moment of satisfaction. The sight of her troops—confident, resolute, and ready for anything—filled her with a quiet pride.
These were her warriors, her conquerors. And soon, the fools of the world would know it.
The grand chamber was dimly lit, the soft glow of enchanted lanterns casting a warm light over the large table at its center. Serena stood before it, her crimson eyes scanning the map spread across its surface. Tiny markers denoted villages, towns, and key positions—each one a step closer to expanding Celestafell's dominion. Her lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile as she traced a path with her finger, imagining the swift and calculated movements of her 1st Marine Forces. She hadn't anticipated such rapid expansion, yet here she was, her reach growing with every step they took.
The faint creak of the door broke her focus, and she glanced up just as Lucien entered the room. He carried a tray in his hands, the familiar scent of tea wafting through the air. His expression was as steady as ever, though his eyes flickered with curiosity as they landed on the map.
"You're smiling to yourself," he observed, setting the tray down on a nearby table and pouring a cup. "Should I be concerned?"
Serena chuckled softly, straightening and clasping her hands behind her back. "Concerned? Hardly. Pleased, perhaps. The Marines have proven their worth, and with them, my reach grows faster than I had dared to hope. Celestafell thrives."
Lucien handed her the steaming cup, his gaze shifting back to the map as he sipped his own tea. After a moment, he spoke, his tone careful. "Luv… there's something I've been meaning to ask. About your will—the words you make your troops chant. Why is their duty to die? What's the purpose behind that?"
Her smile faded slightly, and she set the cup down, her crimson gaze locking onto his. She didn't answer immediately, her expression thoughtful as she considered his question. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady but carried the weight of her conviction.
"Their duty to die is not about their death, Lucien. It is about their resolve. Their willingness to give everything—not just their lives, but their fears, their doubts, their hesitation—for something greater than themselves. It is not about seeking death. It is about understanding that their lives are a currency spent in the name of something that will outlast them."
Lucien frowned slightly, his emerald eyes narrowing as he processed her words. "But isn't it… cruel? To demand such a thing of them? To ask them to sacrifice everything?"
"Cruel? Perhaps," Serena admitted, her tone unflinching. "But necessary. I don't demand their sacrifice lightly. I give them the best armor, the best weapons, the best training. I make them unstoppable, not to ensure their death but to ensure their survival. And yet, in war, survival is never guaranteed. If they are to fight, they must fight without hesitation, without fear of the cost. Because hesitation gets soldiers killed, Lucien. Fear breaks formations. Doubt weakens resolve. I ask them to die because, paradoxically, it makes them fight harder to live."
Lucien's expression softened, though he still seemed conflicted. "And do you truly believe in what you ask of them? That their lives are a currency worth spending?"
Serena stepped closer, her gaze piercing but not unkind. "I believe it because I spend that currency carefully. I do not send my troops into battles that aren't worth winning. I do not sacrifice lives recklessly or wastefully. Every soldier who fights under my banner knows that their death, if it comes, will not be in vain. They will die for something greater than themselves—for a kingdom that values them, for a queen who remembers them. And that, Lucien, is why they are willing. Because they know their sacrifice means something."
For a moment, silence hung between them, the weight of her words settling in the air. Then Lucien sighed, running a hand through his hair as he glanced back at the map. "I still don't know if I agree with you, but I can't deny that your troops believe in you. They'd follow you into hell itself if you asked them to."
Serena's lips curled into a faint smile, her gaze returning to the map. "Then perhaps you're starting to understand, Lucien. That belief—that trust—is the foundation of everything we've built here. It is why we will not fail."
Lucien nodded slowly, his earlier skepticism tempered by her unshakable resolve. He sipped his tea again, his mind still grappling with the implications of her philosophy, but one thing was clear: She was a queen unlike any other. And whether he agreed with her methods or not, he couldn't deny the results.
The city square of Celestafell was packed with people, their murmurs blending into a low hum as they waited for their queen to speak. Serena stood on a raised dais at the center of the square, her dark cloak billowing gently in the cool breeze. The faint glow of enchanted lanterns and the golden light of the setting sun illuminated the faces of the crowd—mothers, fathers, children, and friends, all anxious for news of their loved ones who were miles away, carrying out their duty under her banner.
Serena stepped forward, her crimson eyes sweeping over the crowd, her presence commanding instant silence. Her voice, steady and powerful, cut through the tension like a blade.
"Citizens of Celestafell," she began, her tone calm but carrying an undercurrent of resolve. "I know why you are here. I know the weight you carry, the worry that gnaws at your hearts as your loved ones march into the unknown. I know because I carry it with you."
Her gaze softened slightly, and she raised her hands in a gesture of reassurance. "But I stand before you today to promise you this: for this first conquest, you need not fear. The 1st Marine Forces and the 21st Battalion are the mightiest forces this kingdom has ever assembled. Their armor is impenetrable, their weapons are unmatched, and their training has forged them into something beyond ordinary soldiers. They are conquerors, and they will return victorious."
The crowd murmured, their tension easing slightly at her words. Serena's voice grew stronger, her crimson eyes blazing with conviction. "I will not allow harm to come to them, not while I draw breath. I have made it my vow—my duty—to protect those who protect us. And I—"
Her words were abruptly cut off as an unseen force slammed into the side of her skull. It was as if an enormous, invisible mace had struck her, and the sound of bone shattering was sickeningly loud. The force of the blow sent her staggering sideways, her body twisting unnaturally as her crimson eyes widened in shock. Blood sprayed from the jagged wound, crimson streaks staining the dais as a deep dent caved in the side of her head.
The crowd screamed in horror, their collective gasp filling the square as they watched their queen stumble, her once-proud posture momentarily broken. Her legs trembled as she fought to stay upright, her dark cloak fluttering wildly as she swayed.
Then, with almost inhuman determination, Serena straightened herself. Her crimson eyes blazed, one side of her face grotesquely crushed, the other still calm and commanding. She raised her arms wide, ignoring the blood pouring down her face as she addressed the crowd.
"Do not fear!" she bellowed, her voice cutting through the panic. "Every wound my beloved soldiers and Marines receive, I take in their place! This is my vow to them and to you! Their pain is my pain, their suffering mine to bear!"
As if on cue, her left arm fell from her shoulder with a sickening wet sound, blood spraying across the dais in a horrific arc. The crowd shrieked, some clutching each other, others frozen in place. Serena remained unshaken, standing tall as she gestured to the stump where her arm had been.
"See this!" she declared, her voice resonating with power. "Even now, my body takes what would have befallen them. But you need not worry! As long as I remain within these walls, the Requiem Core will heal me, slowly but surely! I will endure every wound, every pain, for as long as it takes. So, I tell you—fear not for your loved ones! They will return!"
The crowd's horror began to waver, replaced by awe as they watched the flesh of her arm stump slowly knit itself back together. The crushed side of her skull began to shift, bone and sinew realigning as the Requiem Core's power worked its magic. It was a grotesque, slow process, but it was undeniable—she was healing.
Serena's voice softened, though it still carried the same strength. "I bear this burden because I love this kingdom, because I love every one of you. Do not despair. Instead, stand proud, for your loved ones march with the knowledge that I will protect them—always. This is what it means to be a ruler—to endure, to sacrifice, to lead even when bloodied!"
The murmurs of fear gave way to uncertain applause, then to cheers as the crowd began to rally. Serena stood tall, her expression calm and resolute despite the still-healing wounds on her body. Her presence radiated unshakable strength, and the people of Celestafell, though shaken, began to trust in their queen once more.
As the cheers grew louder, Serena lowered her arms, blood still dripping from the edges of her cloak, a smile gracing her lips as her grip on the city tightened.