Once everything had fallen into place—just as Rogg had strategized—he was crowned as the Supreme Emperor.
Not long after, Nyx and Elandra arrived, accompanied by twenty elite assassins—those personally chosen by Rogg during the Knight's Arena in Smokeland.
Their entrance into the imperial court cast an immediate silence. The atmosphere shifted.
Nyx approached and delivered a crucial message to Vuuxi.
With a calm expression, Vuuxi immediately conveyed the news directly to Rogg.
Whispers rippled through the audience.
"What is it?""What's happening now?"
Rogg rose from his throne. His steps were steady, his face composed, his eyes brimming with energy. He walked into the center of the courtyard—before the assembled soldiers, nobles, ministers, and citizens.
"Today," he began, his voice loud and clear, "though I have claimed this throne through strength and strategy, though many of you may still doubt me—doubt my power—just this once… I ask you, believe.
Believe in me. Fight with me. Stand for all of us."
Tension filled the air. No one dared speak. Even the princes exchanged only bewildered glances.
Everyone seemed to wonder, "What surprise does the emperor have this time?"
Rogg continued, voice unwavering:
"The Balevad army is just two days' sail from the Blacksand Sea. Their exact numbers remain uncertain… but from Mount Lakhsa, Robb, Vuuxi, and Josia saw them with their own eyes.
They are coming—to wage war against Whiteheaven."
He paused, then spoke in a deeper tone,
"I do not yet know their full intentions. But with a fleet that large, it's clear they come with hostile intent. We have only one day to prepare. I've already taken the first step—sending Doliex forces to evacuate the people of Blacksand to the palace region."
He grasped his trident and raised it high above his head.
"Now I ask of you… raise your swords with me!Raise your swords for this land!Raise your swords against those who seek to destroy our Empire!"
But silence gave way to doubt. Confused, questioning looks began to emerge among the officials, soldiers, and some of the princes.
Xaverius stepped forward, hesitantly.
"Emperor? Are you making this up? This was never part of the plan. No one has ever discussed anything like this."
Aelthar chimed in, disbelief in his voice.
"In all my years—my entire life—I've never seen a great nation threaten us. Not even in Patisia has there been any realm or territory near the Guava Valley. All the merchants who come to Whiteheaven are from small, obscure nations."
Prince Todius spoke too, his expression puzzled.
"Who are they, exactly, Emperor? I oversee the entire Guava Valley waters. I've never seen any sign of a large nation. As Uncle Aelthar said, it's only ever been minor peoples."
Rogg listened intently, then answered—not with anger, but with a calm, powerful voice that echoed like ripples shaking the lakebed.
"The Guava Valley is our world. A world isolated—hemmed in by vast oceans to the south and the Lakhsa Mountains. My ancestors—the founders of Whiteheaven—came from the Illeum people, the Robelix Clan. Alongside the Doliex of the Aedrin Clan, they united all the peoples of this valley and founded our Empire.
The Torens, master builders.The Lofil, providers of food and crops.The Midia, herders and keepers of milk.The Larfex, laborers who filled the markets and cities.The Doliex, warriors, masters of the art of war.
All came together under the banner of Whiteheaven. That is the source of our strength and prosperity.
But… do you not realize how vast this world truly is?Far beyond what we can imagine.
Out there are lands we've never touched. Beyond the oceans, beyond the mists, beyond forgotten history… they've been waiting. And now, they're coming."
Then Elandra and the Doliex assassins brought two men into the court's center—Master Kohali and Master Meruz.
"What?! Meruz?!" Xaverius cried out, stunned. "Why are you here?! Why were you captured?! And under what charges?!"
Damerius too was shocked when his eyes fell on Kohali.
"Master Kohali…? It's been so long. But… why are you being detained?"
The two men said nothing. Heads bowed. Not a word left their lips.
Though aged, the lines on their faces couldn't hide the greed etched there for years. Their eyes were hollow—but carried a shadow within.
Rogg stepped forward, his gaze sharp.
"I will not tell the whole tale myself," he said, voice firm and resonant across the hall. "But if you're willing to confess before everyone here… I might consider granting you mercy."
Xaverius stormed forward, livid.
"Emperor?! What is the meaning of this?! Meruz is one of my most trusted men! I never thought you'd go after my own people! Explain—on what grounds have you arrested him?!"
Magnoli, standing quietly beside Xaverius, gave a faint smile, her gaze steady.
"Brother… let them speak for themselves," she said.
"M-Magnoli? You knew about this too?" Xaverius asked, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.
Tension spread among the nobles and officials. Many still doubted the threat of a foreign power. So the appearance of Kohali and Meruz made everyone uneasy—waiting.
Finally, Kohali spoke. His voice was heavy.
"That great nation… it's… real," he murmured, barely above a whisper. "We… we've been trading illegally with them for the past fifteen years. At first, we thought they were just an isolated people in need of large ships…"
He paused. His voice began to tremble.
"But they kept ordering more—large ships, powerful ones, all different models. And they paid… with slaves they captured from no-man's lands. They call themselves… the Balevad."
"What?!" a unified roar erupted across the chamber. Faces everywhere froze in disbelief.
Meruz added, "We made immense profits… those slaves were sold for two hundred and fifty wit, or traded for ships. They always arrived with new slaves—taken from corners of the world we didn't even know existed…"
At that moment, Nakhsa and Hans entered the hall, escorting a large, dark-skinned man toward the center of the room.
"Your Majesty," Nakhsa said, "we captured one of them. This… is one of the last remnants of Borjong's army."
"Well done, Nakhsa. Thank you," Rogg replied, this time speaking in the Migase tongue. "This... will mark the beginning of our war together."
Rogg stepped closer to the man. His face was stone-cold. The veins on his neck stood out, tense and throbbing.
He spoke in Balevad, a foreign language known only to a few in the room.
"Now… answer me. Are you aware that the Balevad forces are marching to attack Whiteheaven?"
The man lifted his head. A sinister grin spread across his face. His fangs glinted in the light.
"Borjong's blood will be avenged! We are a mighty people! Conquerors! You… are merely waiting for your end. Killing Prince Boidol and Prince Borjong was a grave mistake. Once our dreadful princes arrive, Whiteheaven will be turned to ashes!"
Nakhsa, fluent in Balevad, immediately translated the words into Larfex.
Instantly, the air in the hall shifted. No one could hide their unease. The ministers' eyes widened in shock. The princes fell silent. Some exchanged fearful glances, dread creeping through them like poison.
"So all this time... you've been dealing in secret with that nation?" Xaverius fixed his gaze on Lord Meruz. His voice trembled with suppressed rage, his eyes glowing red with fury.
Meruz was shaking. Sweat rolled down his temples.
"Y-yes, my Lord... we did trade with them," he stammered, barely audible. "But... it all happened in the territory of Blacksand! Even... even Prince Magnoli was aware of it..."
His eyes darted around, searching for a way out, like a cornered animal.
"My Lord... please... have mercy on me... I didn't know they were a nation of invaders! I... I'm innocent...!"
He collapsed, groveling at Xaverius' feet, begging—but no hand reached down to lift him.
All around them, officials, nobles, and soldiers began to murmur. Whispers spread like wildfire, curling through every corner of the hall.
What Rogg had built—what appeared to be a swift, impromptu strategy—was, in truth, long in the making. Everything unfolded with such precision… such detail… as if every move had been foreseen from the very beginning.
On the other side of the hall, Damerius stood watching. His gaze fell upon Magnoli, who had remained calm throughout the ordeal.
"My brother…" Damerius spoke softly, his tone sincere, full of admiration. "Thank you. You brought someone like Rogg into our Empire. You… never made the wrong choice."
Magnoli nodded slowly, his eyes gazing far into the field where Rogg now stood.
"My brother... I didn't choose him. Fate brought him to us. From the first moment I laid eyes on Rogg, something inside me whispered... he is the one who will save us all."
Meanwhile, in the grand courtyard where the entire army had gathered, Rogg stood atop a stone platform, the Thalasson trident clenched tightly in his hand.
His voice cut through the air.
"Now that you all know where we stand, I won't force you… But I must ask: Will you fight alongside me?!"
A thunderous roar erupted from thousands of chests.
"We are ready, Emperor!"
"Long live Emperor Rogg Robelix!"
"Long live the Emperor!"
The cheers shook the ground beneath them. All the soldiers—once divided, in separate factions, even suspicious of one another—now stood as one. No rank divided them. No bloodline set them apart.
They were all now soldiers of Whiteheaven.
Rogg raised his trident high into the sky.
"All troops! Prepare for war!"
Without wasting a moment, his command resounded throughout the palace. Preparations began at once. Troops assembled. Banners unfurled. Granaries were opened. Weapons sharpened. Horses saddled. The fleet arranged.
Rogg also issued an order to detain all officials proven to be involved in corruption and to have served Empress Xienna's interests. Their positions were revoked. Their power stripped away.
And finally…
The united Whiteheaven forces began their march toward Blacksand—the western region facing the sea, where the Balevad forces were expected to arrive.
The sun began to sink into the western horizon.
That night, under a heavy, cloud-covered sky, all military leaders gathered to plan the strategy for the war ahead.
Rogg sat at the center of the circle, his gaze piercing through his comrades.
"Robb, Josia, Vuuxi," he called firmly, "tell us clearly—how many ships are heading toward Guava Valley?"
Josia stepped forward.
"Yes, Your Majesty. From what we observed... over a hundred large ships," he said. "They're still at a distance... but given their size, they'll be moving slowly."
Vuuxi added, his face grim.
"We watched them from the peak of Mount Lakhsa. With ships that massive… this cannot be a good sign. If their destination isn't Whiteheaven, then what else could it be? Felnora Island, where the Midia people raise the sheep that supply our Empire with wool, is far too small to require a fleet of that size."
He paused, exhaling deeply.
"During my years with the Dark Legion," Vuuxi continued, "I've faced many pirate clans—barbaric tribes no one's ever heard of. But… even the largest of them never fielded more than a hundred men. Their ships? Small. Fragile. Nothing like this. The ships we saw... nearly match our Empire's warships. Which means—these are the ships that were once traded in Blacksand. Our ships… now in their hands. And the ones who bought them are none other than the Balevad people, just as you said, Rogg."
A heavy silence descended upon the war council.