Chapter 127 – Journey to the Capital
The gates of Eisenwald groaned open, their heavy iron hinges echoing against the stone walls. Beyond them stretched the great imperial road, winding like a silver thread across the land toward the heart of the Luminaria Empire. Behind, the roar of the people still lingered, but Fenrir did not look back. His eyes were fixed forward—toward the capital where Aurelius Luminaria V awaited.
Kael Morgenstern rode at his right, tall and unyielding, while twenty of the finest Crimson Knights flanked them in a diamond-shaped guard. Their blackened armor gleamed under the sun, crimson cloaks trailing behind like tongues of flame. Each hoofbeat of their warhorses fell like drums of war, an omen to all who watched.
Fenrir rode in silence. He had left the governance of the six territories to Darius, Selene, Garrik, Roland, and Lyra. Now his duty was singular: face the Emperor himself.
---
The news of Eisenwald's victory had traveled faster than any horse. At the first village they passed, the streets were already lined with peasants. Children waved strips of red cloth, imitating the banner of the Crimson Wolf. Women threw bread and apples toward the riders.
"Crimson Wolf! Crimson Wolf!"
The chant rolled through the air, swelling louder with each mile. The Crimson Knights straightened with pride, their hands gripping their reins tighter, eyes sharp as steel.
Fenrir gave only the slightest of nods, his expression calm yet commanding. To the people, he was a hero. But to Fenrir, this was more than celebration—it was a weight. Their cheers carried expectations, and he knew the higher he rose, the sharper the blades of envy would follow.
In the next town, the welcome was grander still. Flowers were scattered across the cobbled road. Merchants had carved small wooden wolves, placing them at the entrances of their shops as symbols of respect.
Yet, not all eyes were welcoming. From balconies and balconies above, noble merchants and minor lords studied the convoy. Their smiles were polite, but their whispers sharp as daggers.
---
At inns and manor halls along the route, the name Fenrir was on every tongue.
"A mere border baron—how could he crush three barons at once?"
"He now holds six territories. With more than eight thousand men, Eisenwald is no longer a swamp backwater."
"They call him the Crimson Wolf. They say his aura blazes like fire on the battlefield."
"Hmph! Exaggerations. But still… the Emperor summons him directly? That alone means something. Will he be raised to Viscount?"
Admiration, envy, and dread intermingled in those hushed conversations. What once was dismissed as a minor house had become a force none could ignore.
---
That night, in a large provincial city, Fenrir sat in a quiet chamber lit by firelight. Kael stood nearby, arms crossed, his eyes gleaming in the shadows.
"What do you see, Kael?" Fenrir asked, breaking the silence.
Kael sipped his wine before answering. "Eyes are upon you, my lord. The common folk see a savior. The nobles see a threat. Both are dangerous in their own way."
Fenrir smirked faintly. "As I expected. But if Eisenwald is to survive, we cannot remain in the swamp forever. To secure our future, we must stand at the table where the Empire's fate is decided. And that table lies in the capital."
Kael bowed his head. "Then we will carve open the way for you, as always. The Crimson Knights will be your wall."
Fenrir's gaze hardened. "And I will ensure that wall does not crumble in vain."
---
Days later, the road widened and the horizon changed. Before them stretched Luminaria Prime, the jewel of the Empire.
The imperial road glittered white, paved with polished stone, wide enough for ten carriages abreast. Merchants hawked silks, steel, and spices from every corner of the realm.
And then they saw it—the walls.
Three colossal rings of fortifications, each towering higher than the last, girded the heart of the Empire. Beyond them, at the very center, rose the golden spire of the Aurelius Palace, reaching for the heavens. It caught the sunlight and blazed like an eternal flame.
Even Fenrir, hardened by war, felt the weight of the sight pressing on his chest.
"Kael," he muttered.
"Yes, my lord?"
"This is the heart of the Empire. Every step we take here will shape Eisenwald's future."
Kael inclined his head. "Then we step with blades drawn, even if unseen."
Fenrir said nothing more. His crimson eyes reflected the glint of the golden spire as if locking onto his true battlefield—one fought not with swords, but with words and power.
---
The convoy entered the outer gate of the capital. The streets swelled with onlookers—commoners cheering, nobles whispering. All eyes fixed on the young baron draped in a dark cloak with a crimson emblem on his chest.
The bells of Luminaria tolled, echoing over the sprawling city. Above it all, the golden spire loomed, waiting.
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