Chapter 95: Milfheim
Waiting for the queen’s reply is useless.
To stop the fleet, Kane needed something other than elves.
Parchment rustled loudly as Kane rolled up the naval schematics.
Seraphine stepped into his study without bothering to knock. Her white armor caught the morning light, commanding his attention immediately.
"You’ve a terrible habit of ignoring closed doors," Kane noted, leaning back in his wooden chair.
"And you have a habit of making my Empress wait," Seraphine replied, tossing a sealed scroll onto his desk.
"She officially ran out of patience last night."
Picking up the scroll, Kane inspected it.
The white wax bore the Celestial Mandate’s intricate crest.
"I suppose she heard about my recent promotion," Kane smiled, tapping the seal.
"Border Lord certainly sounds much better than barbarian gladiator."
"She heard you control the western pass," Seraphine corrected, stepping closer to his desk.
"She also knows Chancellor Morvak is shifting his strategy to the sea. You need ships. We have them."
’She doesn’t miss a single detail,’ Kane realized, appreciating the First Blade’s razor-sharp intellect.
"I’ll leave tomorrow," Kane decided, standing up to meet her gaze. "Alone."
Seraphine blinked, her composed facade cracking for a fraction of a second.
"Alone? You are a newly appointed warlord. You should bring your little tribal honor guard. Bring your elven archers."
"I’m traveling to negotiate a fleet alliance, not start a war," Kane countered, stepping around the desk until he stood mere inches from her.
"Bringing an army looks like a threat. Coming alone looks like confidence."
"It looks like arrogance," Seraphine whispered, tilting her chin up to maintain steady eye contact.
"Are you worried about my safety, Seraphine?" Kane teased, letting his gaze drop intentionally to her lips.
"I’m worried you will offend the Celestial Court within five minutes of arriving," she shot back, though a faint flush crept up her neck.
"Milfheim is a strict matriarchy. Arrogant men usually end up missing their tongues or kneeling in penitence."
"Your Empress has never met a man quite like me," Kane murmured, reaching out to trace the edge of her silver pauldron.
Her breath hitched slightly, though she stubbornly held her ground.
"She eats arrogant men for breakfast, Border Lord."
"Then I sincerely hope she has a very healthy appetite," Kane grinned, stepping back before the tension boiled over into something far more complicated.
"Ride out with me tomorrow at dawn. You can protect me from all those terrifying noblewomen."
After informing Thora to manage, Kane left the place.
Crossing the eastern border felt like stepping onto another planet entirely.
Milfheim territory lacked the wild, untamed beauty of the Elven woods.
Everything here existed in perfect, structured order.
Pristine stone bridges crossed crystal-clear rivers.
Intricate shrines dedicated to the Celestial Goddess marked every single crossroad.
Riding casually beside Seraphine, Kane observed the shifting cultural dynamics.
Women held every position of visible authority.
Female merchants argued passionately over trade routes, while female priests blessed passing travelers.
Men served primarily as laborers, farmers, or silent guards performing highly specific duties.
A patrol of Celestial Mandate paladins intercepted them near a busy trading post.
Five tall women wearing polished silver plates blocked the main road.
Their leader glared at Kane with openly hostile eyes.
"First Blade," the paladin captain greeted, bowing respectfully to Seraphine before pointing a gauntleted finger right at Kane.
"Why is this armed male riding beside you without a penitence collar?"
’They really don’t like outsiders,’ Kane mused, resting his hand casually on his saddle horn.
"He’s the Elven Border Lord," Seraphine answered, asserting her superior rank.
"And he is an official guest of the Empress. Stand aside, Captain."
"He carries a weapon," the captain protested, glaring at the axe strapped to Kane’s broad back.
"If you want to try and take it from him, be my guest," Seraphine offered with a smile.
"But I will not help you clean up your own blood."
Scowling fiercely, the paladin captain sharply ordered her patrol to clear the road.
"Friendly girls," Kane chuckled as they rode past the glaring guards.
"They are sworn to protect the divine purity of our empire," Seraphine explained, her tone softening just a fraction.
"They see you as chaos personified."
"I’m chaos personified," Kane agreed happily.
Two days later, the Milfheim capital rose over the horizon.
Towering spires of white marble pierced the clouds.
Intricate stained-glass windows depicted ancient battles won by legendary matriarchs.
The city pulsed with a strict, unyielding energy that felt entirely foreign to Kane’s usual rugged experiences.
[Location Discovered: Milfheim Capital City]
[Cultural Alignment: Strict Matriarchy / Divine Order]
[New Quest Initiated: The Matriarch’s Court]
[Objective: Secure naval alliance without starting a holy war]
Riding through the front gates, Kane noted the distinct lack of typical military fortifications.
They didn’t need defensive walls; the entire population moved with the discipline of a zealous, unified army.
Dismounting in the grand courtyard, stable boys rushed forward with downcast eyes to take their tired horses.
None of the male servants dared to look Seraphine directly in the face.
"Remember where you are," Seraphine warned, walking beside him toward the towering palace doors.
"Do not draw your weapon. Do not raise your voice. The Empress responds to strength, not barbaric displays."
’Smashing skulls will not solve my problems today,’ Kane realized, adjusting his silver-embroidered tunic.
’Morvak is building a fleet. I desperately need Milfheim’s ships to sink it. I have to play their political game.’
"Lead the way," Kane offered, giving her a polite, entirely sarcastic bow.
Rolling her eyes, Seraphine pushed the grand doors open.
Stepping into the vast throne room, Kane immediately felt the crushing weight of a hundred calculating female stares.
Noblewomen draped in silks and silver jewelry lined the pristine hall, watching him like hawks evaluating a particularly bold mouse.
At the far end of the room sat the Empress.
She looked nothing like the playful, seductive Elven Queen.
Wearing a crown of woven silver, the Milfheim ruler possessed an icy, untouchable beauty.
Her rigid posture radiated absolute authority.
’This negotiation is going to be a mess.’
