The sun had barely begun to rise over the imperial capital when the city gates opened. The Heralds waited in the Grand Courtyard of the Temple, surrounded by soldiers and attendants, as the newly arrived heroes passed through the gates. Four figures approached, each embodying the power of their god.
Deidara, Heroine of Darkness, advanced with steady confidence, her black armor catching only the faintest glimmer of the morning light. Her presence carried an aura of restrained danger that commanded silent respect from everyone present.
Beside her, Eidran, Hero of Wind, seemed almost to float above the ground; his cloak shifted with a breeze that did not exist. Each of his steps echoed like a carefully measured whisper.
Valkaria, Heroine of Metal, marched like a wall of living iron. Her liquid spear twisted soundlessly, as if breathing, and anyone who tried to meet her gaze felt the unsettling sensation of being judged.
Finally, Lethos, Hero of the Mind, brought up the rear. He carried no visible weapons and wore no heavy armor. His deep eyes examined the surroundings, the situation, and every person present, as if he could read intentions and anticipate movements before they happened.
The Heralds stepped forward, leading the heroes before Empress Naira. Each introduction followed strict protocol—a ritual of hierarchy. First came the reports about the isolated region: the roads had finally reopened, but the Frostblight had left devastation that extended far beyond walls and cities.
"The monsters have not diminished," reported Aster, the chief Herald. "In fact, their numbers have grown. The villages remain at risk, and the Empire's legions could intervene, but…" His voice faltered as he looked toward the Empress. "We understand the situation is critical."
Naira regarded the Heralds calmly. There was no fear in her eyes—only strategy. She understood every movement, every intention behind the orders and the glances exchanged in the courtyard.
"The immediate deployment of all legions," she said, her voice soft yet firm, "might resolve the problem for a time… but it would also expose our forces to unstable terrain saturated with mana. The casualties would be enormous, and the situation could worsen beyond what you anticipate."
The Heralds exchanged glances, surprised by the prudence woven into her words. No one had expected the Empress to question their instructions with such diplomacy—without openly challenging their authority.
"However," Naira continued, inclining her head slightly toward Elizabeth, "there are alternatives. Princess Elizabeth, your troops could reinforce certain critical routes under the direct coordination of the Heralds and the Empire's heroes. In that way, we ensure efficiency without risking the bulk of our forces."
Elizabeth maintained the composed posture that defined Carpathian diplomacy. Her eyes assessed the situation rather than imposing upon it. She knew that every decision affected lives and reputations, and that the balance between cooperation and autonomy was fragile.
"Understood," she replied calmly. "My soldiers will act where they are needed, but I will not place Carpathia's forces in unnecessary danger."
A heavy silence settled over the Grand Courtyard. The cold wind swept along the walls, and the Heralds found no words with which to contradict the decision without revealing vulnerability. With only a few carefully chosen sentences, the Empress had protected her strength, preserved the authority of the Empire, and placed the final decision in the hands of the foreign princess—without openly turning anyone into an enemy.