Chapter 126 – The Emperor's Summons
The grand hall of Eisenwald felt different that morning. After weeks filled with the chaos of war and the hurried integration of the three conquered baronies, the chamber was now drowned in a heavy silence, one that carried weight and authority. Officers stood in ordered lines along the walls, steel armor glinting faintly beneath torchlight, while outside the castle, the square was already overflowing with citizens and merchants, all waiting for news that would shape the future of their land.
At the center of the hall stood a messenger draped in a robe of blue and gold, the colors of the Empire. In his hands was a tightly bound scroll sealed with the Emperor's sigil in solid gold. His voice carried across the chamber as he finished his ceremonial bow.
"Baron Fenrir Eisenwald," the herald declared, his tone sharp yet respectful. "By order of His Majesty, Emperor Aurelius Luminaria the Fifth, I bring an imperial summons. You are commanded to present yourself before His Majesty at the capital."
A murmur rippled among the Eisenwald officers. Their expressions shifted between awe and worry. A summons from the Emperor was an honor that could elevate a man into the highest echelons of nobility, but it could also drag him into the web of politics where missteps were fatal.
Fenrir rose slowly from his seat. His movements were deliberate, his posture firm. Every step he took exuded composure and dominance. When the scroll was handed to him, his crimson eyes narrowed as they fell upon the golden seal shimmering under the torchlight. He didn't need to break it open to know—this was no ordinary summons. This was the next stage of his rise.
"Your service is noted," Fenrir said flatly, though his voice carried authority enough to silence the room. He turned his gaze across his men. "Listen well. This summons is not about me alone. It is about Eisenwald. About the six territories now bound beneath our banner. Once, we were dismissed as little more than a swamp. Now, we are a power the Empire cannot ignore."
A cheer erupted but was swiftly subdued when Fenrir lifted his hand.
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Outside, the news spread like wildfire. The once-forgotten marshland barony was now on the lips of every villager and townsman. The Crimson Wolf himself was to stand before the Emperor.
Banners dyed red with the wolf sigil were raised on wooden posts and rooftops. Children dashed through the muddy streets waving scraps of crimson cloth. Merchants gathered at the bustling square, voices loud with speculation.
"Imagine it," a farmer whispered, gripping his hoe with rough hands. "Our lord will stand before the Emperor himself! Not a single baron from these borderlands has ever been summoned like this."
Pride swelled, but so did unease. Everyone knew that such summons could be a gilded trap. The capital was a place of splendor—but also venom, where politics cut deeper than swords.
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That night, Fenrir convened his commanders in the war room. Maps littered the great table, weighted down by iron daggers. Kael Morgenstern stood to his right, the crimson knight's armor casting a dark gleam. Darius Holt, Selene Aestra, Garrik Stormhoof, Roland Ironarm, and Lyra Nightshade formed a half circle around him.
"You all know what this means," Fenrir began, voice low but hard as steel. "While I am gone, you will be the shield of these six territories. Drachenfels, Falkenhain, Hohenberg—they may be conquered, but they are not yet loyal. There will be rebels. There will be cowards waiting to rise against us."
Kael bowed his head. "Crimson Knights will be stationed at the vital strongholds. We will strike down any spark of resistance."
Darius crossed his arms. "Infantry will reinforce the main fortresses. I will ensure garrisons are trained and ready. No enemy will breach our defenses."
Selene's tone was cool, precise. "Archers will hold the walls of the newly integrated towns. No rebel can move unseen. My volleys will find them before they draw breath."
Fenrir's eyes lingered on each of them. These were no longer the ragtag captains of a small marshland barony. They were the backbone of an army forged in fire.
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The following morning, Fenrir stood upon the high balcony of Eisenwald's keep. Below him stretched an ocean of faces—thousands of men, women, and children filling the square until there was no room left to move. The crimson banners snapped in the wind, and the roar of the crowd shook the very air.
Fenrir raised a hand. The tumult stilled instantly.
"Eisenwald!" his voice thundered, carrying to the farthest edge of the crowd. "Not long ago, we were but a forgotten swamp. We were mocked. Dismissed as weak. But look at us now—six territories under our rule, an army that has defeated every foe, and a people who bow to none!"
The crowd erupted, voices colliding in waves of pride.
"I have been summoned by Emperor Aurelius Luminaria the Fifth himself. I go not as a mere baron, but as the Crimson Wolf who represents each of you. And I swear, no matter what awaits me there, Eisenwald's banner will remain unbroken!"
The square exploded with cheers so loud that the banners trembled.
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The day of departure arrived. Fenrir did not leave alone. He chose Kael Morgenstern and twenty of the Crimson Knights' finest as his escort. Each knight bore black warhorses clad in steel barding, their crimson cloaks rippling like streams of blood in the morning wind.
In the castle yard, Eisenwald's army assembled one last time. Darius Holt stood at the head of his infantry, Selene beside her archers, Garrik with his cavalry, Roland near his artillery, and Lyra watching from the shadows.
"We will guard the borders with our lives," Darius declared, fist over his chest.
"Return safe, my lord," Selene said, her sharp gaze never wavering.
Kael stepped forward, his voice resolute. "No harm shall reach you as long as I draw breath."
Fenrir nodded, crimson eyes steady. "I entrust this land to you. Show the world that Eisenwald does not falter, with or without me."
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The gates of Eisenwald opened with a thunderous groan. The convoy set forth, crimson banners held high at the front. Fenrir rode in the center, posture unyielding, Kael and the knights forming an iron wall around him.
On both sides of the road, citizens showered them with flowers, chants of "Crimson Wolf!" echoing over and over. To them, Fenrir was no longer simply a baron—he was their symbol of strength, their shield, their pride.
The road stretched far ahead, toward the golden spires of the Imperial Capital. Intrigue, wealth, envy, and danger all waited within those walls.
Fenrir tightened his grip on the reins, eyes forward, his thoughts a blade honed for war.
"All right then, Aurelius Luminaria V…" his voice was a low murmur, lost in the wind. "Let's see what you desire from me."
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