Reinventing Magic: An Inventor's Tale-Chapter 41: The Gathering Storm

It only took a week for Kael, together with his father, Lily, Oswald, and a few guards, to finally arrive at the capital. The journey had been smooth, yet an air of urgency pressed upon them. As the towering walls of the capital came into view, Kael felt a weight settle on his shoulders. The fate of the world may hinged on this visit.

They chose to land the Aetherwing Skiff outside the city gates to avoid alarming the capital’s guards. As soon as they touched down, Kael moved swiftly, storing the skiff inside his infinite storage—a separate space where he could keep items hidden from prying eyes. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a sleek black carriage adorned with the Valtieri crest.

As they arrived at the gate, Oswald, ever the composed steward, approached the guards stationed at the gate. His authoritative presence made the soldiers straighten instinctively.

"Halt! State your name and purpose," one of the guards commanded, lowering his spear slightly.

"Announce our arrival," he commanded, his voice firm but respectful. "We come on urgent business on behalf of the House of Valtieri."

The lead guard, a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed beard, gave a skeptical glance before accepting the scroll Oswald handed him. He unraveled it, his eyes moving rapidly across the parchment. A flicker of realization dawned upon his face as the words sank in.

"This... this is grave news indeed," the guard muttered, his brow furrowing. He hesitated before looking up. "Do you have any evidence to support this claim? If we are to disturb the king with such urgent matters, we must be certain."

Oswald gave a small, knowing smile. "We have substantial evidence. Enough to warrant an audience with the king."

The guard studied him for a moment, then turned to the other soldiers. "Summon an elite escort. They are to be brought to the palace at once."

A few minutes later, a contingent of royal guards arrived, their polished armor gleaming under the midday sun. They took their positions around the Valtieri delegation, ready to escort them into the heart of the capital.

As they passed through the city streets, the architecture and bustling activity of the capital unfolded before them. Majestic towers pierced the sky, their spires glinting in the sunlight. Merchants hawked their wares in crowded marketplaces, vibrant with the colors of countless goods and the hum of animated conversations. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the sharp tang of magical potions, creating an intoxicating blend of aromas.

Lily, seated inside the carriage, peered through the window, her brows knitting together. "The capital is even grander than I remember," she murmured.

Kael, sitting across from her, nodded. "Indeed."

---

At the Palace Gates

The grand gates of the palace loomed before them, flanked by towering marble pillars adorned with intricate carvings of past rulers and legendary heroes. As the Count and his entourage were led inside, a court chamberlain greeted them, his demeanor both polite and probing.

"Lord Valtieri," the chamberlain intoned. "His Majesty has been informed of your arrival. A royal mage will conduct a brief inspection to ensure all due security measures are met."

A mage clad in royal blue robes stepped forward, murmuring an incantation. A faint golden aura shimmered over each of them, dissipating harmlessly.

"They are clear," the mage confirmed with a nod.

"You will be shown to a waiting chamber until His Majesty summons you," the chamberlain continued, gesturing for the attendants to guide them.

Oswald nodded. "We understand. Lead the way."

They were ushered into a luxurious waiting chamber adorned with intricate tapestries and golden chandeliers. A long table was set with refreshments—fruit, wine, and delicacies fit for nobility. Despite the grandeur, an air of tension clung to Kael.

He moved to the large window, staring out at the bustling city below. His thoughts were elsewhere.

Is Victor holding the line? Are Keira and Alice safe? The questions gnawed at him. They have to be.

The capture of Count Gregor’s spy had only confirmed his worst fears—Gregor would act soon. But Kael couldn’t afford to simply wait for the inevitable. The seal’s strength was waning, and in five years, it would fail. There was no time to waste.

Before their departure, he had taken every precaution. To ensure Keira and Alice could unleash devastating magic in case of an attack, he had inscribed his own spells into their spirit crystals. Among them was one of his most formidable creations—the Proton Cannon. With just the right amount of mana and intent, they could invoke its immense power.

His mind raced as he stared at the shimmering cityscape, its serenity almost mocking. He clenched his fists, the weight of responsibility pressing upon him like an iron shroud.

They needed time. He had to ensure their survival.

Oswald, noticing his expression, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Stay sharp, Young master. We will be called soon. When that moment comes, we must be ready."

Kael inhaled deeply and nodded. "I know."

Moments later, a palace aide entered the chamber. "Lord Valtieri, the king will see you now."

--

Valtieri Domain

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the battlefield. Dust and tension thickened the air as Count Gregor’s army stood in disciplined formation before the towering walls of Valtieri Stronghold. The banners of House Gregor fluttered in the evening breeze, their sigil—a crimson wolf on a black field—commanding fear and respect.

From the front of the army, a knight envoy clad in silver armor rode forward under a banner of parley. He halted just outside the gates, his voice booming across the stronghold.

"By order of Count Gregor, you are to surrender the Valtieri domain immediately! Lay down your arms, and mercy will be shown. Resist, and you will be crushed beneath our might!"

A heavy silence followed. The defenders of Valtieri stood firm upon the battlements, their hands gripping their weapons, but none answered.

Then, laughter—sharp and mocking—cut through the air.

Atop the wall, Victor Dalmont, the commander of the stronghold, leaned against the parapet, arms crossed. His smirk was razor-sharp, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Surrender?" he echoed, shaking his head. "You march an army to our gates, make a show of force, and expect us to cower?" He leaned forward, his voice turning icy. "Tell your Count that we refuse. And while you’re at it, remind him that he should have brought more men."

The envoy’s face turned red with anger. "You dare insult Count Gregor?!"

Victor’s smirk widened. "Damn right, I do. Now get lost before I decide to use you for target practice."

The envoy’s face paled at the blatant taunt. He wheeled his horse around and rode back to Gregor’s war camp.

Count Gregor was already waiting, his expression thunderous as the envoy delivered the message.

His knight commander, Tiberius, stood beside him, clad in ornate black plate armor etched with crimson sigils of war. His scarred face was set in a grim expression, his hand resting on the pommel of his greatsword.

Gregor’s grip tightened on his staff. "That insolent wretch." His voice was low, seething with fury. He turned to Tiberius. "Begin the assault. Now."

Tiberius raised his hand, his voice booming. "Siege engines, loose!"

The battlefield roared to life as massive boulders were launched from trebuchets. The air trembled as the projectiles hurtled toward the stronghold—only for a shimmering blue energy field to flare to life.

Boom! The first boulder slammed into an invisible barrier, exploding into harmless debris. The second and third met the same fate, bouncing off the impenetrable shield that surrounded Valtieri’s walls.

Tiberius scowled. "A mana shield? Clever." He turned to the battlemages standing by. "Prepare for a concentrated assault! Disrupt their defenses!"

The enemy mages stepped forward, their staffs crackling with power. They chanted in unison, conjuring torrents of fire and arcane energy, aiming directly at the barrier.

On the battlements, Keira stood with Valtieri’s mages, her grip firm on her Veilbreaker staff. She watched their movements, analyzing their magic.

Victor glanced at her. "You see it?"

She nodded. "They’re brute-forcing it. They are so predictable." She raised her Veilbreaker staff, her eyes glowing with mana. "On my mark—counterspell!"

A surge of blue energy erupted from the Valtieri mages, colliding midair with the enemy’s firestorm. The resulting explosion illuminated the battlefield, momentarily turning night into day.

Gregor’s troops flinched at the force of the blast, their formations momentarily breaking.

Victor smirked. "Now we strike back." His gaze flickered to the sky. "Alice, Keira—let’s show them what real magic looks like."

The two women nodded. As the battlefield below erupted into chaos, they ascended into the air, defying gravity.

A murmur of confusion rippled through Gregor’s forces.

"They’re... flying?"

"What kind of sorcery is this?!"

Gregor narrowed his eyes. "Tiberius, explain this."

The knight commander frowned but tried remain composed. "It’s looks like a flight magic, my lord."

From above, Alice and Keira extended their hands, channeling a spell Kael had stored within their spirit crystals. The air crackled with energy as they both activate the same spell.

"Proton Cannon."

Twin beams of devastating energy erupted from their palms, lancing straight into Gregor’s front lines. The attack was swift, obliterating entire formations in an instant. The battlefield turned into a hellscape of fire and screams.

Gregor’s eyes widened as the aftermath settled—charred bodies, ruined siege engines, soldiers breaking ranks. His anger boiled over.

"Regroup, damn you!" he roared. "Tiberius, prepare for a counterattack!"

Tiberius mounted his imposing black warhorse, the beast’s eyes glowing a fierce red that mirrored its rider’s unyielding resolve. He drew his massive greatsword, Dreadnought, the weapon’s dark runes pulsating with a sinister energy that seemed to swallow the very light around it. As he raised the blade high, the battlefield fell into a tense silence, every eye fixed on the formidable figure.

"Bring the ladders!" Tiberius commanded, his voice echoing like a thunderclap across the expanse. The soldiers around him sprang into action, their movements swift and precise, a testament to their rigorous training and unwavering loyalty.

"Shadow Battalion, advance!" His voice, a blend of authority and menace, sent a shiver through the ranks.

A new wave of knights cloaked in black armor emerged from the ranks—Gregor’s elite cavalry, trained for night warfare. Their horses moved swiftly, their blades glowing with enchanted darksteel.

Victor’s smirk faded. "Here come the real threats."

The first wave of shadow knights charged, their speed unnatural. They moved like specters, their weapons slicing through the air with deadly precision.

On the walls, Victor’s voice rang clear. "Ready the ballistae, fire at will!"

A storm of enchanted bolts rained down, but the knights deflected them mid-charge, their enchanted blades slicing projectiles from the air.

Victor’s eyes narrowed. "They’re strong and fast. We need to slow them down!"

Keira raised her Veilbreaker staff, her mana flaring. "Then let’s clip their wings."

With a sweep of her hand, a surge of wind magic roared across the battlefield, a powerful cyclone whipping through the advancing knights. Horses bucked, knights were thrown from their saddles, and the charge faltered.

Victor grinned. "Now they’re vulnerable. Open the gates! Knights, charge!"

The gates of Valtieri swung open, and Valtieri’s elite cavalry surged forth, crashing into Gregor’s shadow knights in a thunderous clash of steel.

The battle descended into chaos—knights locked in brutal combat, magic flaring through the night, and the fate of Valtieri Stronghold hanging in the balance.

Watching from the rear, Gregor’s expression darkened. "Tiberius, we must break through now."

The knight commander raised his greatsword, its dark runes pulsing. He muttered an incantation, and a crimson aura flared around him.

Victor, standing atop the battlements, felt a shift in the air. His eyes widened.

"That’s no ordinary magic..."

Tiberius charged forward, his blade cutting through three knights in a single swing, his presence alone shattering morale.

Gregor smirked. "Let’s see them stop my knight commander now."

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