The great gates of Drachenhalm opened as the weary envoys rode through the bustling streets, escorted by Aurion armored vehicles until the final stretch before the castle. Citizens gathered to watch the strange machines depart, their curiosity as strong as their fear. Sir Edric and Father Alric rode at the front of the delegation, both silent as they neared the castle courtyard.
Inside the royal hall, King Aldred IV sat on his throne surrounded by nobles, advisors, and generals. Chamberlain Hadrien announced the return of the delegation. The hall quieted as the three leading envoys—Lord Merrow, Lord Ventross Kaelthorne, and Lady Arlenne—stepped forward. Behind them, Sir Edric, Father Alric, and the remaining knights stood in formation.
Merrow bowed slightly.
"Your Majesty, we bring word from the land beyond the barbarian frontier—the nation known as Aurion. Our mission was successful. We have returned with knowledge, agreements, and opportunities that will shape our kingdom's future."
Lady Arlenne stepped forward, her tone calm and deliberate.
"We secured trade discussions, resources, and cultural exchanges. Their people value learning and commerce. They are open to allowing our merchants and travelers into their lands, and they welcome the idea of mutual benefit—though their strength is beyond anything we have known."
Ventross crossed his arms.
"They are powerful, yes. Their 'steel dragons' alone prove that. But they did not flaunt their might. They sought mutual respect. Yet make no mistake—they are no simple barbarians. We must be cautious."
King Aldred leaned forward, eyes narrowing slightly.
"And their stance on faith? Did they allow the spreading of our gospel?"
Father Alric took a step forward.
"They agreed to allow our priests to preach, but only under certain conditions. They value freedom of belief and asked that conversions be voluntary. They do not tolerate forced faith as we have practiced among the barbarians." His voice wavered slightly, recalling the image of the massacred village that Aurion envoys had shown him.
Murmurs filled the court—some nobles displeased, others intrigued.
Sir Edric finally spoke.
"I have seen their machines, Your Majesty. Their cities shine brighter than any palace. Their people live with comforts we cannot imagine. We may see them as barbarians, but they are far from weak. We must treat them as equals… or risk destruction."
King Aldred looked among his nobles, many of whom whispered heatedly—Merrow smirking with ambition, Ventross deep in thought, Lady Arlenne calm but firm.
"And what of their gifts?" the king asked.
Alric carefully placed several books and strange items before the throne.
"They shared knowledge of their world, its history, and its faiths. I have also brought texts of their two main religions and—" he paused briefly, clutching one heavy tome closer to his chest, "—records of their past conflicts. They speak of wars unlike anything we have ever known."
Hadrien stepped closer to the throne.
"Your Majesty, the success of this mission marks a turning point. But with this alliance—or rivalry—comes a great choice. How we proceed will shape the destiny of Drakensport."
The hall erupted into debate once more. Some nobles called for trade and cooperation, others whispered of conquest and seizing Aurion's power for themselves. Amid the noise, King Aldred remained silent, his gaze fixed on the books that Father Alric had brought.
For the first time, the king understood that their kingdom was standing at the edge of a new era—one where knights and priests alone would no longer decide the fate of the world.
The grand hall of Drachenhalm erupted in celebration. Banners of House Drakensport hung proudly as minstrels played triumphant tunes and servants brought out lavish feasts. Nobles and knights raised their goblets high, toasting the envoys as though they had returned victorious from a great crusade.
Merrow basked in the praise, exchanging smiles with lords who supported his ambitions. Ventross stood off to the side, speaking quietly with Ser Aldwin about Aurion's strange military power. Lady Arlenne politely accepted the compliments but remained distant, her mind already weighing the possibilities of trade and cooperation.
Sir Edric and Father Alric were hailed as heroes, though both wore uneasy expressions. Edric nodded politely to the well-wishers, but his thoughts lingered on the strange machines, the towering cities, and the sheer power he had witnessed. Father Alric clutched the leather-bound book he had brought from Aurion, his mind heavy with the memories of what he had read about their wars.
As the night wore on and laughter filled the hall, a royal attendant quietly approached Father Alric.
"His Majesty requests your presence in his private study," the attendant whispered. "He asks that you bring the book… the one you spoke of upon your return."
Alric's heart sank slightly, but he nodded and followed.
The study was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the jubilant festivities outside. King Aldred IV sat behind an oak desk, the firelight casting deep shadows across his face. He gestured for Alric to approach.
"Close the door," the king ordered softly.
Alric obeyed, stepping forward and placing the book on the desk.
"This is it?" Aldred asked, his eyes fixed on the worn cover.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Alric replied. "It contains accounts of their greatest wars. The scale… the destruction… it is unlike anything our world has seen."
Aldred ran his fingers over the cover but did not open it yet. His voice was low, contemplative.
"These people live in shining cities and wield power that defies understanding. Yet they are not gods. They bleed. They war among themselves. And they have done so on a scale that makes even our fiercest battles seem like petty skirmishes."
Alric hesitated before speaking.
"Your Majesty… what do you intend to do?"
The king finally opened the book, flipping through pages filled with images of tanks, planes, and mushroom clouds rising over ruined cities. His eyes hardened.
"I intend to learn everything I can about these 'Aurions'—their history, their strength, their weaknesses. If we are to deal with them, whether as allies or adversaries… knowledge will be our greatest weapon."
The king closed the book with a heavy thud, the weight of its contents sinking into the room like a storm brewing on the horizon.
"Tell no one of this," Aldred said firmly. "Not yet. Let the others celebrate as they will… but we must prepare for the world that is coming."
Alric bowed his head.
"As you command, Your Majesty."
Outside, the feast continued. Music played, goblets clinked, and nobles toasted to a bright future.
But in the king's study, under the flickering candlelight, Aldred IV stared at the book—realizing that the knowledge within could shape the fate of his entire kingdom.
Father Alric bowed deeply before stepping out of the study, leaving King Aldred IV alone with the book. The heavy door shut with a dull thud, and silence settled in the room, broken only by the crackling of the fireplace.
Aldred slowly opened the cover again. The first thing he noticed was how smooth the pages felt—thin, soft, and carrying a faint aroma, unlike any parchment he had ever known. The text meant nothing to him, rows of strange symbols arranged in neat lines. But the pictures… the pictures told their own story.
He turned the first few pages, seeing images of knights and soldiers that looked not unlike his own. Battles fought with swords, pikes, and early cannons. Kings on horseback, banners flying above armies locked in brutal combat.
"This much, I understand…" Aldred muttered to himself.
But as he flipped further, the images began to change. The armies wore strange uniforms, wielding weapons he could not name. Vast formations of men marched with precision, firing weapons that spat smoke and fire without arrows. Cannons grew larger, mounted on wheels of metal.
Then came the pages of conquest—grand generals, strange flags, maps covered with arrows.
And then… the pictures turned darker. Vast battlefields scarred by trenches, endless lines of men in helmets, explosions tearing the ground apart. Dead soldiers lay in heaps, their faces obscured by strange masks.
Aldred's eyes narrowed as he turned the page again—this time to a war even greater. Machines of steel rolled across fields, spitting fire and death. Warships the size of castles clashed upon the seas. And in the skies… countless flying machines rained destruction below.
The king's breath caught when he reached the next set of images—cities reduced to rubble, firestorms devouring everything, men in uniforms saluting a single leader as the world burned around them.
And then, at last, the most haunting image of all—a great cloud rising high above a ruined city, a monstrous pillar of smoke and fire shaped like a mushroom, blotting out the sun.
Aldred stared at the image for a long time, silent and motionless.
"So this… is what they are capable of," he whispered.
He flipped through more pages—wars after wars, destruction on a scale beyond comprehension. But also… rebuilding. Great cities rising from ashes, machines that could cross oceans and skies, and people uniting under banners not of kings, but of nations.
The king closed the book slowly, resting his hand on its cover. His expression was no longer prideful, nor fearful, but heavy with thought.
"These people…" he murmured, staring into the fire. "They were once like us. And yet… they became something far greater. And far more dangerous."
The crackle of the flames filled the room.
Aldred sat in silence for a long time, the weight of what he had seen pressing down on him.
The kingdom celebrated outside, oblivious to the storm of possibilities forming in their ruler's mind.
The following morning, Aldred and Father Alric resumed their work. The book lay open to a section filled with old illustrations—castles, knights in armor, and banners flying over battlefields.
"This part…" Alric traced the words carefully with his finger. "It speaks of their own age of kings. Of empires rising and falling. Wars over land, crowns, and faith… much like our own."
Aldred leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the pictures of armored men clashing with swords and shields. "So they too were once as we are now. Feuding lords. Endless wars."
"Yes," Alric said slowly. "But it seems… they changed. Look here—this speaks of a time when they began to unite under greater kingdoms, and their weapons grew stronger. Crossbows, pikes, cannons…"
The king studied an image of a massive cannon being fired at a stone fortress. "They learned to fight from a distance. Their walls became weak. It forced them to think beyond castles."
As they turned the pages, the book revealed tales of exploration—strange ships sailing across vast oceans, men planting flags on distant lands.
"They sought the world beyond their own," Alric murmured. "And with that curiosity came conquest. They took from others… but they also learned from others."
Aldred sat back, silent for a moment. "So they were not always so mighty. They climbed—step by step—through war, knowledge, and ambition."
The priest nodded. "It is a lesson, Your Majesty. Power is not gifted. It is built."
Hours passed as they studied maps of medieval Europe, the rise of great kingdoms, and the conflicts that shaped them. They read of alliances forged and broken, of plagues that swept across nations, and of revolts that toppled kings.
Aldred's gaze hardened. "If they began as we did, then there is hope for us to grow as they did. But there is also danger—because the same ambition that drove them could one day turn against us."
Father Alric closed the book gently. "Your Majesty, we must tread carefully. What we learn here could strengthen our kingdom… or destroy it."
The king placed his hand on the book's cover. "Then we will learn everything—quietly. Let the nobles celebrate their feast. They do not need to know that the world beyond our borders is far greater than we ever imagined."
And so, behind the closed doors of the royal study, the king and priest continued their work—deciphering the past of a nation that had once been no different from theirs, yet had risen to dominate a world far more advanced than Drakensport could comprehend.
The next section of the book depicted centuries of turmoil. The pages were filled with maps of shifting borders, coats of arms, and engravings of vast battlefields littered with soldiers.
Father Alric read slowly, piecing together what he could. "This part… it tells of a time they call the 'Hundred Years' War.' A great struggle between two mighty kingdoms—one called France, the other called England. They fought for crowns, for land, for power… for over a hundred years."
King Aldred stared at the illustration of armored knights clashing beneath banners marked with lions and fleur-de-lis. "Hundreds of years of war? Entire generations born and slain for a throne?"
"Yes," Alric said. "And this war was only one of many. It says that after this came more conflicts—civil wars, peasant revolts, wars of religion. Kingdoms rose and fell. Their people suffered, yet their knowledge grew. New weapons, new tactics, new machines of war."
They turned the page, finding an image of soldiers wielding long pikes against charging knights, with early firearms held by men in strange armor.
"They abandoned the sword as their main weapon," Aldred muttered, a note of unease in his voice. "This… fire-lance, as they call it… it changed the way wars were fought."
Alric pointed to another passage. "It says that the war did not stop with kingdoms. They began to fight not just for thrones, but for ideas. Nations were born from revolutions. Kings were overthrown. Entire orders shattered."
The king frowned, his eyes lingering on a picture of guillotines and banners carried by common folk. "Revolutions… The peasants taking power."
Alric nodded gravely. "And yet, with every war, they grew stronger. They conquered distant lands, created vast empires, and turned war itself into something greater than we can imagine."
The final pages of the section showed grand naval fleets battling on rough seas, and rows of soldiers firing in perfect unison with their muskets.
Aldred closed his eyes for a moment, letting the weight of it sink in. "So they bled for centuries… and in that blood, they forged their power."
Alric shut the book softly. "It seems war shaped them as much as it broke them. What we see now—these steel dragons, these cities of glass and light—did not come without cost. They paid for it in blood, far more than we can comprehend."
The king sat in silence, his gaze fixed on the book's cover. "If we are to learn from them, we must understand not only their strength… but the price they paid to achieve it."
And with that, they prepared to study the next chapter—a world forever changed by fire, iron, and ambition.