The Kingdom of Nexus.
"Your Highnesses, it appears that the Tartagalians are now preparing to strike with multiple fleets."
A knight-captain knelt in the war tent, his voice sharp with urgency.
"They're moving…" Stella whispered, her cold blue eyes narrowing.
"Prepare the cannons along the walls," Zuleika ordered swiftly, her tone like steel.
The knight saluted and left at once. Silence lingered for a breath inside the tent, broken only by the rustle of maps spread across the table.
"Will we be able to win this war?" Zuleika asked quietly, her fingers curling into her cloak.
Stella glanced at her younger sister, then gave a faint, bitter smile. "We need to."
Without another word, Stella stepped out of the tent. Outside, rows of Nexus knights already stood in formation, their armor gleaming under the dim light of dawn. The salty wind carried the smell of sea and iron. They watched her with tense eyes, waiting for a voice to anchor their fear.
Stella strode forward, her cloak snapping behind her like a banner. She raised her hand, and the murmurs died.
Her voice rang across the encampment, cold yet burning with conviction.
"Knights of Nexus! The sea itself rumbles with the approach of Tartagalia's fleets. They believe we are weak. They believe we will bow and bend."
Her gaze swept over them, sharp as a blade.
"But Nexus does not bow. Nexus does not kneel. We are the Kingdom that guards the waves. As long as one ship of ours still sails, as long as one cannon still fires, as long as one knight still stands—this kingdom will not break."
A roar began to rise among the ranks, but Stella lifted her hand again, silencing them.
"They will come with their fire and their steel. They will come with numbers greater than ours. But hear me well: Tartagalia does not fight for honor, or for their people. They fight for conquest alone. And that is why they will lose."
She drew her sword and pointed it toward the sea, the steel catching the pale light.
"We fight for our homes. For our families. For our future. For every child who still sleeps peacefully behind these walls. Let them come, let their waves crash against us—we will be the rock that breaks their tide."
The knights stomped their boots, the ground shaking beneath them.
"Now! To your ships! To your stations!" Stella shouted, her voice carrying like thunder across the shore.
The army erupted with cries of "Nexus! Nexus!" as they surged toward the naval docks, ready to meet the invaders head-on.
Stella lowered her sword, her jaw tightening as the wind whipped against her hair. Quietly, to herself, she whispered:
"This time… we cannot afford to lose."
The horns blared across the harbor as the fleet of Nexus surged into the waves. Ships rowed swiftly in tight formation, sails billowing against the wind. The sea roared with the cries of men and the crash of steel upon shields.
The Tartagalian navy came in sight like a swarm of black beasts across the horizon—rows upon rows of spiked ships, their banners marked in crimson.
"Loose!" cried a Nexus commander.
The first volley of flaming arrows hissed through the air, striking true into the enemy's front lines. A Tartagalian galley erupted into flame, sailors screaming as they plunged into the water. The men of Nexus roared in triumph, their cannons answering with thunder, blasting holes into enemy hulls.
Two ships met with a violent crash, the wooden sides splintering as grappling hooks fastened. Nexus knights leapt aboard with swords gleaming, shields raised. Their training showed—each strike was precise, each movement sharp. A line of Tartagalians fell in the first clash, their blood staining the deck.
"Push them back! Break their line!" one knight shouted, raising his spear as his comrades surged forward.
The Tartagalians fought fiercely, but their style was wild, chaotic. Against the discipline of Nexus's formations, they faltered.
The sea thundered with explosions and smoke. Splinters flew, men shouted, blades clashed. Nexus knights used shields in tight phalanxes even aboard ships, overwhelming their enemies in brutal, methodical advances. Ship after ship fell to their discipline.
"Another one sinks!" a soldier cried, pointing to where a Tartagalian vessel tilted sideways, its mast crashing into the water.
At first, the battle seemed to belong to Nexus. Their knights—sharpened by years of war, bound by loyalty—fought like one body, one will. The Tartagalian navy was larger, but in these opening exchanges, the Kingdom of Nexus cut through them with cold efficiency.
Yet from the smoke, deeper into the horizon, larger shadows began to appear—massive warships of Tartagalia, their iron-clad hulls dwarfing the smaller Nexus vessels.
The true storm had only just begun.
From the cliffs above the shore, Princess Zuleika and Princess Stella stood side by side, their capes snapping in the sea wind. Their eyes did not flinch from the carnage below—the water was choked with debris, smoke curling into the heavens as the last of Tartagalia's first wave slipped beneath the waves.
The horns of Nexus rang in triumph. Cheers echoed across the ships, but Stella's voice cut through them like ice.
"Pull back! All vessels, return to the docks immediately!"
The commanders relayed her order, signal flags snapping into the air. The Nexus fleet, battered but victorious, slowly turned their prows back toward the safety of the harbor.
When the first ships reached the shore, silence fell. Six knights had been laid out upon the blood-stained sand, their armor dented, their faces pale and still. Ten more staggered off the gangplanks, wounded—some with arms bound in blood-soaked cloth, others supported by their comrades.
Zuleika's hands clenched at her sides as she walked past the dead, her jaw tight. She stopped before the wrecked remains of two Nexus ships—masts snapped, hulls torn apart by Tartagalian iron. For all their victory, the scars of battle were already carved deep.
Her voice rang firm and sharp:
"Repair the ships immediately. Strip what you must from the wrecks, reinforce the hulls, rearm the cannons. We have no time to waste."
The knights behind her saluted at once, scattering to the docks. Carpenters and blacksmiths hurried to the battered vessels, hammering, sawing, patching. The clang of tools joined the rhythm of crashing waves.
Beside her, Stella kept her gaze fixed on the smoke still rising from the sea. Her expression betrayed nothing, but her eyes were cold, calculating.
"This was only their first wave," she murmured. "The next will not fall so easily."
Zuleika glanced at her sister, then turned back to the horizon where the dark line of enemy sails was just beginning to emerge again.
"They're coming," she said quietly.
The sea trembled once more as the Tartagalian war drums thundered across the horizon. A second line of ships emerged, their black sails unfurling like wings of death. The air thickened with the smell of pitch and salt, and the cries of gulls scattered into the clouds.
From the docks, the second batch of Nexus ships rowed out, their banners snapping high, their knights standing tall upon the decks. The clash began in an instant—iron cannons roared, the sea churned with fire and splintered wood.
But this time, Tartagalia struck harder. Their fleet pressed forward with relentless force, their cannons faster, their soldiers leaping from ship to ship with savage roars. Nexus's disciplined formations staggered as one vessel after another was battered back toward the shore.
And at the forefront of the assault stood him—Lieutenant Varcus of Tartagalia.
A towering figure clad in dark steel, his armor painted with streaks of dried blood, and in his hand a wicked halberd that gleamed with every swing. He carved through Nexus knights with brutal efficiency, his laughter echoing across the waves like thunder.
"Pathetic!" he bellowed, kicking one wounded knight into the sea. "Is this the might of Nexus? You'll all drown like dogs!"
Fear rippled across the Nexus lines as their knights faltered under his assault. The battle swayed dangerously, the second wave of Tartagalia threatening to break through.
But then came a defiant roar.
Captain Rhys, helm torn from his head, his hair drenched in seawater and blood, leapt onto Varcus's deck. His blade gleamed, his eyes burned with fury.
"Face me, butcher!"
Varcus turned, amused, twirling his halberd with ease. "Another lamb for slaughter? Come then, little knight!"
The clash of steel rang out. Halberd against sword, strength against speed. Varcus swung with crushing power, splintering the planks beneath their feet, but Rhys moved like a storm—dodging, weaving, striking at every gap in the brute's armor.
Their battle became the eye of the storm. Both fleets paused to watch as sparks flew with each strike. Then, with a sudden cry, Rhys slipped beneath a downward swing, plunging his blade deep into Varcus's chest.
The lieutenant staggered, shock flashing across his cruel eyes. Blood spilled down his armor as Rhys tore his blade free and kicked him overboard. The sea swallowed the Tartagalian commander whole, dragging him into the depths.
A cheer erupted from the Nexus knights. The morale that had faltered blazed anew, and with fresh vigor, they drove their blades into the enemy, pushing back against the second wave.
But Stella and Zuleika, watching from the cliffs, did not celebrate. Stella's hand gripped the hilt of her sword tighter.
The second wave ended, but it left Nexus bloodied. Nearly two dozen knights were carried ashore, groaning with wounds, while others were laid cold upon the sand, their armor stained with salt and blood. The survivors tried to patch the ships with desperate hands, their morale shaken despite the victory.
By nightfall, the sea was calm, eerily so. The Tartagalian fleet did not advance, choosing instead to wait in the darkness, letting exhaustion eat away at Nexus's resolve. Fires flickered across the camp, where knights sat hunched, chewing at their rations in silence. The air was heavy with smoke, sweat, and the faint stench of blood carried from the waves.