Oakenbrew Mansion
Later that night, Calgirra returned to her mansion.
The Oakenbrew estate stood tall on the upper terraces of Hearthguard Cairn, carved directly into the mountain like most dwarven architecture. Heavy stone walls, iron doors, and the quiet wealth of an ancient clan.
Calgirra walked through the entrance hall without slowing.
"I'll be in my study with our guest," she said calmly while removing her gloves. "No interruptions."
"Yes, madam," her butler replied with a respectful bow.
Calgirra continued down the corridor and entered her private study.
The door closed.
Then she locked it.
"So," a soft feminine voice asked from inside the room. "How did it go?"
A beautiful human priestess sat comfortably on the couch, leisurely sipping a glass of expensive dwarven wine.
Her white-and-gold robes were immaculate. Her posture elegant. Her smile gentle.
Everything about her radiated the image of a kind and devoted servant of the goddess.
Calgirra immediately bowed deeply.
"Priestess Gabrielle. It is done. The council has agreed to war, and Dwordoug Axebreaker died with the demons."
Gabrielle's smile widened slightly.
"Excellent."
She slowly swirled the wine in her glass.
"And Murica? Any attempts at unnecessary contact?"
"No, Priestess," Calgirra replied respectfully. "After my men cut communication when they attempted to inform us about the Moth Pole incident, they have not tried again."
She added calmly.
"Other than communicate about tomorrow's scheduled meeting."
Gabrielle nodded in approval.
"Excellent."
She placed the glass on the table and stood up gracefully.
"Now then… it is time for your daily prayer, isn't it?"
"Yes, Priestess," Calgirra replied obediently.
Calgirra reached into her clothes and pulled out a pendant.
The symbol of Goddess Celes.
An ankh-like shape with two horizontal bars.
She clasped it with both hands reverently.
Gabrielle raised one hand.
A faint stream of mana flowed from her fingertips toward Calgirra.
"Repeat after me," Gabrielle said softly.
"O Celes the great and the beautiful, please protect your humble servant."
"O Celes the great and the beautiful… please protect your humble servant…" Calgirra repeated.
Her voice became slower.
More distant.
Her eyes turned completely white.
Gabrielle continued calmly.
"Bless me with your divine light."
"Bless me with your divine light…"
"Guide my actions in your name."
"Guide my actions in your name…"
Word by word.
Sentence by sentence.
Calgirra repeated everything perfectly.
Her voice empty.
Her body still.
A puppet reciting its lines.
Gabrielle watched with a quiet smirk as the dwarf sank deeper into the trance.
Minutes passed.
Finally, the prayer ended.
"Very good," Gabrielle said, returning to the couch.
"Thank you, Priestess," Calgirra replied while still bowing.
Gabrielle picked up her wine glass again.
"What of the mercenaries?"
"They had regroupped in one of my plantations," Calgirra answered. "Should I send them beyond Dwargonia's borders now?"
Gabrielle shook her head slightly.
"No. Keep them close." She took another slow sip of wine. "Just in case."
"As you command," Calgirra said.
Gabrielle leaned back against the couch.
"And what about tomorrow's meeting?" Her eyes sharpened. "Have you chosen the right dwarf to represent our… holy interests?"
"Yes," Calgirra replied. "His motive is personal. But it aligns with ours."
"Perfect." Gabrielle smiled, "The Church… and the goddess… will be very pleased."
"Thank you, Priestess," Calgirra said quietly.
Gabrielle gave her a warm, almost motherly smile.
"The war between Dwargonia and Murica may be devastating."
She placed a hand on her chest as if speaking sincerely.
"But fear not."
"The Church will come to your aid."
Her smile remained gentle.
"Soon, all dwarves will open their eyes to the glory of Celes."
She tilted her head slightly.
"And when that day comes… You will no longer need to pray in secret."
"Yes…" Calgirra murmured faintly. "I eagerly await that day."
She bowed deeply once more before leaving the room.
The door closed behind her.
Silence returned to the study.
Gabrielle slowly lifted her wine glass again.
Her pleasant expression melted away.
In its place appeared a cold, malicious grin.
"Fufufu…"
She chuckled quietly.
"Work well, my little puppet."
Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
"I cannot wait to see heathen nations tearing each other apart."
For centuries, the Church of Celes had been unwelcome in Dwargonia.
The dwarves still remembered the era when human kingdoms—blessed by the Church—had enslaved countless dwarves.
Because of that history, the Church had never been allowed to operate openly within dwarven lands.
But over the past year, the Church had quietly developed a plan.
A long, careful plan.
They secretly dispatched one of their Seven Virtues into Dwargonia.
Archpriestess Gabrielle.
Her mission was simple.
Corrupt one member of the Grand Council.
And now—
Their plan was finally beginning to bear fruit.
---
Tri-Border Ocean
Two days after the destruction of Moth Pole Prison, the planned trilateral meeting between Murica, Dwargonia, and Ravendawn finally took place.
The location was carefully chosen: the exact point where the three nations' territorial waters touched.
A Ravendawn fleet waited at the center of the meeting zone. Four 124-gun ships of the line formed the backbone of the formation, supported by six smaller 62-gun warships. Their sails were trimmed perfectly, their lines disciplined and proud, every vessel positioned with textbook naval precision.
To their starboard side floated the Murican delegation.
Three steel destroyers.
They did not move. They barely made a sound. Their dark hulls simply loomed over the wooden Ravendawn ships like quiet metal cliffs.
On the opposite side waited the Dwargonian fleet.
Four enormous battleships dominated the waters, surrounded by a swarm of destroyers. Above them, five massive military airships drifted slowly through the sky, their shadows sliding across the ocean surface like patient predators.
From a distance, the gathering looked almost like a naval parade.
Almost.
No one present felt festive.
Directly between the three fleets floated the chosen meeting venue.
A massive Murican cruise ship.
Its design was unmistakable—a near-perfect copy of an Earth Disney cruise liner, complete with towering decks, bright colors, and cheerful decorative paint.
Except instead of smiling mascots, the giant logo displayed a disgruntled demon rats.
Underneath the logo were the words:
Dismay Cruise Ship
A small boat approached the floating spectacle.
Admiral Lorenzo and King Luxius sat inside, accompanied by several Ravendawn knights. Their vessel was a wooden boat—though it now carried a Murican-made motor engine bolted awkwardly to the back.
The engine buzzed loudly as they crossed the water.
Luxius stared upward at the cruise ship.
"Seeing a Murican cruise ship in person is… different," he muttered slowly. "I still cannot believe how gigantic it is…"
"Agreed," Lorenzo said, scratching the back of his head. "I still do not understand why they spend so much money just so their citizens can go on these… cruising."
He gestured vaguely toward the ship.
Even from this distance, the multi-deck waterslides were clearly visible, twisting down the side of the vessel like decorative monuments to questionable financial priorities.
Lorenzo sighed quietly.
A year ago, he had been captured by Murican forces.
Afterward, Murica presented him with an unusual offer: serve in the newly revived Ravendawn Navy.
Their reasoning had been straightforward.
First, Lorenzo was a credible and respected admiral with loyal Vandorian sailors who trusted his command.
Second, Ravendawn's navy had not existed for the past twenty years.
At first, he refused immediately. His loyalty to Vandoria had been absolute.
Then Murica showed him the truth.
His own king had planned to blame the failed invasion entirely on three people: Duke Pierre, Archmage Durac… and Admiral Lorenzo.
Their families would be executed as well, purely for spectacle.
That revelation broke something inside him.
Murica then made a second promise.
They would rescue his family.
In exchange for his service.
Lorenzo accepted.
Now he sat inside a small boat headed toward a floating theme-park with his new king.
"Though…" Luxius murmured after a moment, shifting his gaze toward the Dwargonian fleet.
His voice lowered slightly.
"It is not the Murican ship we should be worrying about right now."
He stared at the massive brass battleships in the distance.
"Admiral… do you believe the fleet we brought could stand a chance against theirs?"
Lorenzo watched the Dwargonian fleet carefully.
"…Unfortunately, no, Your Majesty," he answered with a quiet sigh.
"Our wyverns are the only units capable of harming them. Even then… the best we could hope for would be damage."
"Not victory."
Luxius nodded slowly.
"I pray no war happens with Dwargonia."