Chapter 214: FIVE REACTIONS
The letters reached their recipients at different times—but their reactions, sooner or later, would dictate the future of Northreach.
Draconia — Hall of the Eternal Flame
The black vehicle bearing the Sudrath Wolf emblem pulled up before the towering obsidian gates. Two dragon guards in humanoid form stared at the vehicle with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. They had never seen anything like it—a horseless carriage that moved with a low roar, leaving tire tracks upon volcanic stone that had never been touched by anything but dragon claws.
The courier stepped out. His boots hit the warm Draconian soil—the temperature here was always higher due to the magma flowing beneath the surface. He handed over the letter sealed with red wax. He didn’t say much, only stating that the letter was from King Lucian Sudrath, the ruler of the Kingdom of Northreach.
The letter was carried across a stone bridge spanning a magma chasm to the Hall of the Eternal Flame.
Emperor Tharazion sat upon his obsidian throne. His nearly three-meter-tall humanoid frame radiated a crushing aura—a Dragon Fear that would make anyone unaccustomed to it tremble. Beside him, Princess Seraphina stood with her hands behind her back. Her crimson eyes were fixed on the letter in the attendant’s hand.
Tharazion received the letter. His large, scaled fingers broke the wax seal with care—a movement almost gentle for a being of his size. He read it in silence. His golden eyes moved slowly from the first line to the last.
"This human keeps his promises," he said finally. His voice was deep, resonating like the shifting of tectonic plates.
Seraphina turned to him. "What does it say?"
Tharazion handed her the letter. "Northreach is now a kingdom. They are notifying us of their new status—as an ally."
Seraphina scanned the parchment. Her eyes moved quickly, searching for a single name—and she found it at the end, nestled between Lucian’s signature and the Wolf seal. Not the name itself, but she knew. Then, the corner of her lip curled—a very thin, almost imperceptible smile.
"Roland... so you are there."
Tharazion glanced at his daughter. "Are you disappointed he didn’t write a personal letter?"
"I didn’t say that."
"You didn’t have to." Tharazion leaned back. "Inform the Council. Northreach remains our ally. Nothing changes."
Seraphina folded the letter and tucked it inside her cloak—right over her heart. "I will convey the message."
She walked out with a light step, but there was something in her eyes that couldn’t be hidden.
Tharazion watched his daughter’s back until she disappeared behind the doors. Then, he gazed north—toward the new kingdom founded by those peculiar humans.
"Lucian Sudrath... you truly are different from other men."
Aethelgard — Palace of Light, Sol-Regis
The next Sudrath vehicle arrived at the golden gates of Sol-Regis when the sun was directly overhead. The Silver Eagle guards stared at the car with sour expressions. They had seen these before—during the war, tanks like these had shattered their ranks. The memory was not a pleasant one.
The courier stepped out and handed over the letter. He didn’t wait for an answer. He climbed back into his vehicle and drove away before the guards could even decide whether they should stop him.
The letter was carried through marble corridors, past halls adorned with portraits of ancestors, and past whispering nobles who caught sight of the Wolf emblem. Finally, it arrived at the study of King Edward IV.
Edward sat behind his desk. Before him, stacks of reports regarding post-war reconstruction still awaited his attention. His eyes were weary. The lines on his face had grown deeper—every day felt like a year.
He received the letter and read it.
"Northreach is now a sovereign kingdom. We no longer recognize the authority of Sol-Regis. Respect our sovereignty, or face the consequences."
Edward set the letter on the desk. He didn’t rage. He didn’t shout. He only let out a long sigh—the sigh of a man too exhausted to be surprised.
"I expected this."
The door burst open without a knock. Eleanor entered with swift strides, her black cloak billowing behind her. Her ice-blue eyes locked onto the letter on the desk.
"What is that?" her voice was sharp.
"A letter from Lucian." Edward did not stop her.
Eleanor snatched the letter and read it. Her face turned a deep crimson, and the veins in her neck bulged. Her hand crumpled the parchment. "This is an insult! They cannot do this!"
"They already have."
"They must be destroyed! We must send the army—"
"What army, Eleanor?" Edward’s voice remained calm, but there was a sharpness to it—a blade he hadn’t shown in a long time. "We just lost the war. Our soldiers are spent. Our treasury is empty." He looked at his wife. "You want another war? With what?"
Eleanor slammed the letter onto the desk. The sound echoed like a slap. "This isn’t over."
She turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The crash echoed through the corridor.
Edward didn’t move. He simply stared at the letter—from his old friend, who was now a king in the land he had once granted. A land that once meant nothing, now a kingdom he couldn’t even conquer.
"What have you done, my old friend..." he whispered. "What have you done..."
Beast-Kin Khanate — The Nameless Steppe
The third Sudrath vehicle sped across the endless grasslands. Its wheels left tracks in soil that had never been touched by a machine before. Wolf-riders on patrol spotted it from a distance—some spurred their mounts to follow, curious and wary, but they did not attack. They had never seen a carriage without horses.
The vehicle stopped before the largest encampment the courier had ever seen. Tents made from the hides of giant beasts stretched as far as the eye could see. Bonfires burned everywhere. The smell of roasted meat and smoke filled the air. Beast-kin children—some with wolf ears, others with tails—ran between the tents, stopping to stare at the alien vehicle with wide eyes.
The courier stepped out, escorted by two beast-kin guards—half-wolf men nearly two meters tall—toward the main tent.
Inside, Khan Arslan sat upon a throne crafted from the bones of monsters. He stood two and a half meters tall, his golden mane flowing over his shoulders, and his amber eyes regarded the courier with an unreadable interest. Beside him, an elderly advisor with stag horns stood bowed.
The courier handed over the letter. Arslan took it with a hand the size of a dinner plate. He stared at the paper, then burst into laughter—a deep sound that shook the tent walls. "A new human kingdom. In the north."
The advisor added: "The ones who defeated the Iron Empire."
Arslan stopped laughing. His eyes narrowed. "Interesting." He looked at the courier. "Your vehicle... no horses. No magic. What is it?"
The courier answered briefly: "Technology, Your Majesty."
"Technology." Arslan repeated the word as if tasting a new flavor. He looked at his advisor. "I am curious about them. I want to know more about this ’technology.’ Arrange a delegation to their lands."
The advisor bowed. "As you command, Khan."
The courier was dismissed. As he stepped out, Arslan called out to him. "Courier."
The courier paused and turned.
"Your vehicle... can it run across grass this high?"
"It can, Your Majesty."
Arslan nodded slowly. "Interesting," he said again. Then he waved him away. "Go."
Arslan watched the vehicle recede, leaving tire tracks on the grasslands that had never felt the touch of a machine.
"Technology..." he murmured. "Intriguing."
Emerald Union — Council Room, Aurum
The fourth Sudrath vehicle rolled over the red-brick streets of Aurum. Canals on either side reflected the afternoon sun. The buildings here were taller and grander than in Meridoss—stone towers with gilded domes. Merchants from across the continent bustled about.
The courier stepped out in front of the Merchant Council building and was ushered into a meeting hall—a circular room with a massive table in the center. Around it sat ten of the wealthiest individuals in the Emerald Union.
In the highest seat, First Merchant Gatheon sat in his gold silk robes. His rings clinked softly as he tapped the table. His hawk-like eyes scanned the courier.
Beside him, Madam Vernazza sat quietly. She recognized the Wolf emblem on the letter, and the corner of her lip twitched upward.
The courier delivered the letter. Gatheon read it. His eyes moved rapidly—he didn’t read word for word but scanned for relevant data.
"The Kingdom of Northreach," he said, his voice flat. "Our trading partner."
Vernazza added: "They’ve already built the Maglev rail. Trade is profitable. I’ve seen it myself."
Gatheon folded the letter. "As long as the gold flows, we don’t care who wears the crown." He looked at the other Council members. "Send a reply. The Emerald Union recognizes the Kingdom of Northreach."
No one objected. Some Council members had already returned to their ledgers—this matter was no more important than the fluctuating price of spices.
After the courier left, Gatheon looked at Vernazza. "Are you sure about them?"
Vernazza sipped her tea. "I had my doubts once. Not anymore."
Gatheon nodded slowly. "If you say so."
Luminara — Cathedral of Light
The fifth Sudrath vehicle arrived at the gates of Luminara as the sun began to set. Golden-orange light hit the white walls of the cathedral, creating a sight that was almost surreal—like a city descended from the heavens.
The courier stepped out and was led through silent corridors, past stained-glass windows depicting holy tales—the Goddess of Light creating the world, banishing the darkness, and blessing humanity. The light filtering through the glass cast vibrant colors onto the marble floor.
In a simple room in the east wing, the Holy Maiden sat on an unadorned wooden chair. Her white gown was pristine, her silver hair flowing over her shoulders. No crown. No jewelry. Just a young woman with pale blue eyes who regarded the courier calmly.
The courier handed over the letter. The Holy Maiden received it with both hands—a gesture almost like receiving a sacred object. She read it in silence. Not a single flicker of emotion crossed her face.
An attendant entered and bowed. "Your Holiness. Is there anything we should prepare? The Council is waiting."
The Holy Maiden folded the letter slowly. "That won’t be necessary."
The attendant hesitated. "But... the letter is from the kingdom they call... the demons..."
The Holy Maiden looked at the attendant. Her gaze was not angry, but calm. "They are not asking for war. They are only asking to be recognized."
The attendant bowed his head, not daring to argue. He retreated and closed the door softly.
The Holy Maiden stood and walked to the window. Outside, the sun had almost fully set. The last rays of light touched her face—illuminating pale blue eyes that now gazed toward the north.
"One day..." she whispered, almost inaudible. "I wish to see it for myself."
Her fingers brushed the letter now resting in her lap. A letter from the kingdom called "demons." A letter that contained no threats, no curses, only a notification.
What was truly happening in the north...
Iron Hearth — Night
Lucian sat in his study when the crystal pager on his desk buzzed. One by one, the confirmations came in.
Draconia: Letter received. Aethelgard: Letter received. Beast-Kin: Letter received. Emerald Union: Letter received—reply sent. Luminara: Letter received.
Lucian read through the messages, then set the pager down.
"They have all arrived."
Aurelia stood beside him, bringing a cup of warm tea. "And now?"
Lucian looked out the window. The snow was falling again—thin, soft, covering the city that never truly slept.
"Now... we wait."
They stood in silence, watching the falling snow, looking out at the kingdom they had built with their own hands. Five letters had been sent. Five reactions had begun.
And the future—like the snow outside—was still unpredictable.