The arrival of the royal family and the dukes at the Persia estate marked a silent shift in the power balance of the kingdom. It was a move of urgency, secrecy, and survival. The warp gate shimmered shut, and within moments, the heart of the Clover Kingdom now beat from the estate of Duke Mary of Persia.
Inside the estate, Lady Mary, dignified and poised, welcomed Queen Elizabeth, Princess Katherine, and Lady Sara, daughter of Duke Jonathan Everan. The banquet hall was aglow with golden light, fresh florals, and soft music played by estate musicians—an atmosphere carefully crafted to soothe nerves.
Mary personally poured the tea and gestured them to sit. "No enemies may follow you here. Not while Sion stands."
Queen Elizabeth exhaled slowly. "I never imagined I would leave the capital so suddenly."
Sara, tense but trying to hide it, offered a thin smile. "The only comfort is knowing it was your son who made it possible."
Katherine stirred her cup gently. "He looks at us like we're already drifting away from him."
Mary looked to the flickering candles. "That boy… he's carrying the weight of more than this kingdom. Perhaps more than he should."
The women conversed gently, easing into a moment of peace that had become so rare. But outside the chamber, a different kind of storm brewed.
In the vast courtyard, Sion stood in command before his 120 knights. Jerin and Luthor stood close by, both sharp-eyed and ready. The estate guards had been alerted, the perimeter fortified, and every corner of the palace thoroughly swept.
"We cleanse the rot now," Sion said coldly, his eyes sweeping over the armored ranks. "Every traitor, whether in shadow or in uniform, dies today."
The operation unfolded swiftly. Trusted knights moved in with precision across the estate, scouring both inner and outer grounds. Secret couriers were apprehended. Spies hiding in servant roles were dragged out in chains. One knight who attempted to flee was struck down by Sion himself—his sword cutting not just through armor, but through deceit.
Within the span of hours, all traitors—both inside and outside the dukedom—had been eliminated. A fire was lit in the courtyard, and it was there that the documents, tools, and sigils of espionage were burned.
Back inside, in the secured war chamber beneath the estate, a council had gathered.
King Nathan, Queen Elizabeth, Duke John, Duke Jonathan, and Princess Rebecca of Sidom sat at a long marble table. A great war map stretched across its surface, with wooden markers and glowing runes placed along the borders of Sidom and Leaf.
Rebecca stood, urgency burning in her eyes. "The Leaf Kingdom has declared war on Sidom. They're attacking our border cities. They want the kingdom to fall before the season ends."
King Nathan's face was carved with concern. "We can't afford to fight this battle alone. If Sidom falls, Clover will be next."
Rebecca turned to Sion. "You brought your family, your king, your court here. You moved faster than the enemy. Will you help us now?"
Sion crossed his arms, expression unreadable. "I will not give my answer lightly. I've sent a coded message to our remaining forces in the capital. When I return through the warp gate, I'll bring them all here. This estate will be the stronghold."
Rebecca's eyes widened. "You… you're serious?"
In a swirl of mana, Sion raised his hand and summoned the warp gate once more. A swirling portal of light opened behind him, casting blue ripples across the chamber.
The air turned still. Even King Nathan was stunned. "I knew you had changed, Sion… but not like this."
Rebecca stared at the gate in awe. "In Sidom, we call that ancient magic. We thought it was long gone."
Sion turned, half-smiling. "Turns out some old legends walk among us."
Then he stepped through the gate, vanishing toward the capital to retrieve the last loyal forces.
Back in the banquet hall, Lady Mary stood alongside Queen Elizabeth as they watched the horizon from the balcony.
"He's no longer just my son," Mary said softly. "He's something more now. Something this world hasn't seen in a very long time."
And in the quiet between war drums and whispered fears, the estate of Persia stood not just as a home—but as the final fortress of a kingdom on the brink.