Chapter 21: The Road to Iron Summit
Snow fell like ashes as Jean Luther departed Luther Keep.
She rode alone, clad in a new set of silver-white armor tailored for travel and battle alike, Solstice reforged by the Luther Clan's grand smiths and humming with quiet divinity at her back. At her side, her divine guardian Whitney padded silently through the frost, fur glinting like moonlight, eyes ever watchful.
The path to the Iron Empire's capital, Drakenshold, was long—and fraught with more than just snow and ice.
---
The first week passed with relative calm. Jean moved swiftly through known roads, stopping only to rest in neutral villages. Yet, as she crossed into the territory bordering the Iron Empire, something changed.
She noticed shadows following her.
Not soldiers.
Not bandits.
But something... skilled.
On the fourth night of the second week, Whitney growled low.
They were surrounded.
From the trees emerged masked figures—dozens. Their movements were silent, synchronized. No banners. No insignias.
Assassins.
Jean didn't ask who sent them. The answer was always the same: someone afraid of what she could become.
She drew Solstice.
And the night lit with light and death.
---
She moved like a storm of silver—her blade cutting arcs of brilliance through the dark. Whitney tore through attackers with divine fury. Aura-enhanced blades and poison-tipped darts shattered against her luminous shield.
One assassin made it close, whispering: "Your light will die in darkness."
Jean answered with a single word: "No."
And with that, she cut him down.
By dawn, only she and Whitney remained. Blood soaked the snow. Jean, injured but alive, stared into the forest with narrowed eyes.
"Someone sent a message," she said. "Let's send ours back."
---
The attack changed her course. She left the main road, instead traveling through the lesser-known Sable Pass, a route once used by war caravans during the last great war.
There, she encountered a rider.
A lone figure dressed in dusk-blue armor bearing the twin sigils of the Argon Sovereignty.
He lifted his helm.
"Peace upon you, Emissary of Light," he said. "The Sovereign Priesthood offers safe passage through the old chapel routes."
Jean frowned. "Why help me?"
"Because you are hunted," he replied. "And because the gods still watch."
---
With the Sovereignty's guidance, Jean bypassed several ambushes. She arrived at the borders of the Iron Empire four days ahead of schedule.
Drakenshold rose in the distance—a city of crimson banners and obsidian spires. Fire-powered furnaces hissed beneath its walls. Dragons forged in steel and flame adorned every gate.
The Empire was ready.
And waiting.
As she approached, a squadron of ironclad knights greeted her.
"The Empress awaits," the captain said.
Jean, blood still fresh on her gloves, replied coldly, "So does the Light."
---