The storm had not yet passed when the first emissaries of the Free Cities arrived.
Their ship was a sleek black corvette, its sails stitched with the many-colored banners of their distant republics. Unlike the Azure League's rigid discipline, the Free Cities embraced a chaotic, mercantile spirit — no two banners alike, no two emissaries speaking with the same tongue or ambition.
Lee Sung stood once more at the docks, his cloak soaked by mist and sea spray. Beside him, Ysrael and Commander Dalia waited in stony silence, their eyes like blades in the pre-dawn gloom.
As the ship moored, three figures descended the gangplank.
The first was a slender man draped in embroidered robes of green and white — clearly a diplomat of high standing. The second was a tall woman wearing a leather breastplate inlaid with sapphires, her face obscured by a thin silk veil. The third was a stooped figure cloaked in red and black, leaning heavily on a staff of gnarled bone.
An entourage of mercenaries followed, armored lightly but carrying cruel, curved swords — a visible reminder that the Free Cities' promises always came with teeth.
The lead diplomat bowed low before Lee Sung.
"I am Envoy Marrek of Jutara," he said in polished High Speech. "These are my peers — Captain Zarela of Lothwyn, and Arch-Savant Quirin of the Crimson Collegium."
Marrek smiled — a practiced, oily expression.
"We bring gifts and proposals, mighty sovereign of Solspire. May we speak somewhere... private?"
Lee Sung nodded once.
"Follow me."
---
The Council Hall — An Hour Later
Around the battered map table of the Silent Court, Lee Sung listened carefully as the emissaries spun their web.
Marrek spoke first:
"The Free Cities recognize your sovereignty and admire your defiance against... certain imperial ambitions," he said, a not-so-subtle jab at the Azure League.
"In return for exclusive trade rights, access to Solspire's eastern ports, and a modest tithe of artifacts from your vaults, we offer you gold. Grain. Cannons. Mercenaries trained in the Black Schools of Valeskar."
Zarela added, her voice soft but edged:
"We can bolster your armies. Make Solspire a true force among the shattered kingdoms."
And Quirin, the bent sorcerer, wheezed:
"We can teach you the lost arts. The true power that sleeps beneath your streets... before others awaken it."
Lee Sung studied them all.
Predators, every one.
Still, power was not something to be refused lightly — especially when blood already stained the winds.
Before he could answer, the doors to the chamber burst open.
A scout — one of Dalia's most trusted — stumbled in, rain dripping from his armor.
"My lord," he gasped, falling to one knee, "we found something."
He extended a small, wrapped bundle.
Lee Sung took it carefully, unraveling the cloth.
Inside lay a shard of black iron, inscribed with twisting sigils that shimmered faintly even in the dim torchlight.
The room seemed to tighten around it, as if the air itself recoiled.
The emissaries stiffened visibly.
Quirin's eyes widened with greed.
"You have found a fragment of the Wyrmforged Relics," the old man rasped. "One of the pillars that once upheld the First Empire's might."
Marrek coughed, struggling to maintain his mask of diplomacy.
"An artifact of such... significance must be handled with great care," he said carefully. "Perhaps the Free Cities could assist in its proper safeguarding?"
Lee Sung said nothing.
But inwardly, his mind raced.
The Wyrmforged Relics — thought lost after the Sundering of the World — were not merely tools of power. They were anchors of dominion, able to bind magic, command armies, and bend the will of lesser lords.
Whoever controlled them could forge not just a kingdom, but an empire.
And now one fragment lay in his hand.
He rewrapped the shard and handed it silently to Commander Dalia.
"Seal it in the Inner Vault," he ordered. "No one touches it without my word."
Dalia nodded grimly and departed.
Lee Sung turned back to the emissaries, his voice like steel drawn across bone.
"Solspire thanks the Free Cities for their generosity," he said. "We shall consider your offers — carefully."
Marrek inclined his head, hiding his disappointment.
"Of course. We await your pleasure."
As they departed, Ysrael leaned in close.
"They will not wait long," he murmured. "Sooner or later, they will come to take it by force."
Lee Sung's smile was cold.
"Then let them come."
---
The Root Beneath the Stone — Midnight
That night, deep beneath Solspire, Lee Sung descended alone into the newly excavated vaults.
The halls had once been a king's treasure hoard — now they were filled with broken statuary, collapsed tunnels, and ancient bones.
In a newly cleared chamber, the black iron shard sat atop a pedestal of cracked marble, pulsing softly with inner light.
Lee Sung approached, feeling the relic's gravity drag at his very soul.
And in that moment, visions assailed him:
A crown of iron and flame descending onto his brow.
Cities kneeling before him, their banners torn and trampled.
The Azure League shattered, the Free Cities burning, and Solspire rising like a black sun over a broken world.
He recoiled, heart hammering.
Power — true power — was no gift. It was a hunger that devoured all but the strongest.
Lee Sung clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms.
"I will not be consumed," he whispered to the darkness.
The relic pulsed once, as if acknowledging him... or laughing.
From the shadows, a whisper — perhaps real, perhaps imagined:
> "Wield or be wielded."
Lee Sung straightened.
He would master the artifact.
He would master the city.
And when the day came, he would master the world.