Chapter 756 756 Zarael
Zarael, the sovereign of the Xantis Expanse, sat gracefully on the balcony of her castle, her eyes lost in the serene landscape that stretched before her. Once a Ringmaster known for her prowess in the galactic arenas, she now ruled a vast territory, a realm where her word was law, all under the overarching command of Aldred.
The evening air was cool, brushing against her skin, carrying the scents of the lush gardens below. Her castle, an architectural marvel, blended the aesthetics of ancient designs with subtle, advanced technologies. It was a deliberate choice, a reflection of her desire for a life that balanced the old with the new, the simple with the complex.
Zarael's life, under Aldred's command, was surprisingly peaceful. His demands were fair, usually resources for the ongoing war efforts, but beyond that, he granted her autonomy. It was a relationship built on mutual respect and understanding, a rare commodity in a galaxy rife with power struggles and betrayals.
Her gaze drifted to the skies, where dragons soared majestically, their scales glinting in the fading light. Below, winged horses grazed in the meadows, a scene straight out of a fantasy. She had chosen this planet for its ancient charm, a stark contrast to the high-tech worlds she was accustomed to. Here, she found solace in the simplicity of life, away from the relentless advancements of technology that had defined her earlier existence.
Zarael's thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps. Turning, she saw her trusted advisor, Maelor, approaching. His demeanor was respectful yet relaxed, a testament to their years of working together.
"Lady Zarael, the latest reports from the trade routes have arrived," Maelor announced, holding a leather-bound folio.
Zarael nodded, extending her hand to receive the folio. "Thank you, Maelor. Anything that requires immediate attention?"
Maelor shook his head. "Nothing pressing, my lady. Trade is flourishing, and our defenses remain unbreached. The Expanse is as peaceful as ever."
Zarael opened the folio, skimming through the neatly penned reports. "Good. Ensure that a portion of the surplus is sent to Aldred's forces. He might not ask, but we must do our part in supporting the war efforts."
Maelor bowed slightly. "As you wish, Lady Zarael. It shall be arranged."
As Maelor left, Zarael's eyes returned to the horizon, where the last rays of the sun painted the sky in hues of orange and purple. Her mind wandered to Aldred, a man who had become a legend in his own right. She admired his strength, his vision for a future where humanity could thrive.
Zarael closed the folio, her thoughts turning inward. She had carved a place for herself in this galaxy, a haven where she could rule with a blend of strength and compassion. Yet, the peace she enjoyed was a fragile one, dependent on the outcomes of battles fought light-years away.
She stood up, her silhouette casting a long shadow on the stone floor of the balcony. The evening was drawing in, and the first stars began to twinkle in the night sky. In the quiet of her castle, amidst a world that seemed untouched by time, Zarael found a moment of tranquility, a brief respite from the never-ending chess game of galactic politics.
But like Aldred, she knew that the tranquility was ephemeral. The galaxy was in a state of flux, and she, as a leader under Aldred, played a crucial role in shaping its future. With a final glance at the night sky, Zarael turned and walked back into the castle.
Zarael, with a dignified grace, entered her throne room. The guards stationed at the entrance bowed deeply in respect as she passed. Her throne room was a magnificent space, adorned with intricate carvings and lavish tapestries that told the history of the Xantis Expanse. The air was filled with a sense of power and authority, befitting her status as a ruler.N♡vεlB¡n: Transforming Moments into Memories.
She approached her throne, an exquisite piece of craftsmanship that symbolized her authority. As she sat, the fabric of her robe flowed around her like liquid shadow. She tapped lightly on the armrest, and within seconds, a projection of Aldred materialized before her.
"How's it going, Zarael?" Aldred's voice, though coming from a projection, carried his usual calm and commanding tone.
Aldred's brow furrowed slightly. "Is it okay if some of them die during training?" he asked, weighing the responsibility of handling so many lives.
The officer's response was stern, almost cold. "We want the best training, Lord Aldred. It's better if half of them die. These soldiers are here to become the finest. And don't worry about any noble's son. Most of those sent here are the ones they've discarded anyway."
Aldred absorbed the information, his mind already planning the logistics and training regimens. He turned to face the officer, his expression hardened by the gravity of the task at hand. "Understood. We'll begin training immediately. My goal is to forge them into warriors capable of facing the demons. Casualties are inevitable, but each will be given a chance to prove their worth."
The officer nodded, satisfied with Aldred's response. "We have full confidence in your methods, Lord Aldred. These soldiers will be the tip of the spear in our fight against the demonic forces."
As the officer departed, Aldred took a moment to look out at the armada once more.
Aldred frowned. "10 million soldiers. Did they not trust me enough. Well, I guess that makes sense."
Aldred made his way to the massive cruise ship that now housed the 10 million soldiers sent for training. As the doors of the airlock hissed open, he stepped into the ship, his presence commanding immediate attention.
The interior of the ship was a marvel of efficiency and order. The hallways were pristine, and the soldiers, standing at attention, were a testament to discipline. Despite the officer's earlier claim that many were castaways, Aldred could sense a fierce determination in their eyes. It was as if they had found a new purpose, a chance to prove their worth, not just to their families or themselves, but to Aldred, a figure they regarded with a mix of awe and reverence.
Aldred walked slowly through the ranks, his eyes scanning the faces of the soldiers. Each one looked back at him with a burning determination, a silent vow to excel and perhaps, to find redemption in his eyes.
Stopping in front of a young soldier, Aldred's gaze met his. The young man's eyes were steady, filled with an unspoken promise. "What's your name, soldier?" Aldred asked, his voice firm yet not unkind.
"Sir, I am Jaxon, formerly of the Third Regiment, sir!" the soldier replied, his voice betraying a hint of pride despite his previously low status.
Aldred nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Jaxon, tell me, what do you seek here?"
Jaxon straightened, his voice resolute. "To be the best, sir. To prove that I am more than what they discarded. To fight for humanity under your command, Lord Aldred."
Aldred's gaze swept across the assembled soldiers. "Each of you has been given a second chance, a chance to be part of something greater. Here, your past doesn't define you. Your actions will. Train hard, follow orders, and above all, remember why you fight."
The soldiers responded in unison, a thunderous "Yes, sir!" echoing through the ship's corridors.
Aldred turned and continued his inspection, his thoughts introspective. These soldiers, once discarded, now carried the potential to be the vanguard against the demonic forces. In them, he saw not just warriors, but a reflection of the galaxy's cruel nature and the resilience to rise above it.
As he walked, Aldred knew that the training would be grueling, and not all would make it through. But for those who did, they would emerge as a formidable force, sculpted by the harsh realities of war and forged in the crucible of his training regimen.
