The city of Vinea had seen countless dignitaries throughout its history.
Kings.
Queens.
Archmages.
Awakened.
Even Guardians disguised as ordinary officials.
Yet never before had anticipation gripped the capital quite like this.
For four years, Atlantis had remained silent.
Four years of rumors.
Four years of speculation.
Four years of unanswered questions.
Now, at last, the mysterious Kingdom Beneath the Waves had agreed to meet the surface world.
Every major power had sent representatives.
The Awakened Council.
The Blood Desert.
The Gorgon Empire.
Merchant consortiums.
Academic institutions.
Noble houses.
All had gathered within Vinea.
All waited for the same thing.
Atlantis.
King Meron Griffon stood upon a balcony overlooking the royal harbor.
The King of the Griffon Kingdom was a lean man in his mid-fifties, though he appeared no older than thirty.
Thick red hair framed a handsome face marked by years of experience rather than age.
Silver eyes, inherited from the bloodline of Valeron himself, calmly studied the sea below.
A golden crown rested upon his head.
Instead of ceremonial robes, he wore the crimson uniform of the Kingdom's Commander-in-Chief.
A reminder that he remained both king and protector.
Beside him stood Queen Sylpha.
Like her husband, time seemed reluctant to touch her.
Though she too had passed her fiftieth year, she appeared to be a woman in her early thirties.
Sharp features.
A square jaw.
A slender build.
An elegance that demanded attention without seeking it.
Yet what most noticed first was her hair.
Six distinct shades flowed naturally together.
A blessing from all six gods of magic.
A trait known throughout the Kingdom.
Below them, the harbor buzzed with activity.
Representatives filled every available observation platform.
"They're late."
Sylpha's voice remained calm.
Meron smiled.
"No."
"They're making sure everyone is watching."
A moment later.
The sea answered.
The harbor waters began to churn.
Not violently.
Deliberately.
As though something enormous moved beneath the surface.
Conversations stopped.
Thousands of eyes turned toward the water.
The ocean split apart.
Gasps echoed throughout the harbor.
Something emerged.
Silver.
Blue.
White.
A vessel unlike anything seen upon Mogar.
The ship rose from beneath the sea itself.
Water cascaded from its sleek hull.
Runic arrays illuminated its surface.
No sails.
No oars.
No visible means of propulsion.
It simply existed.
As if the ocean itself carried it forward.
Then another emerged.
And another.
And another.
An entire diplomatic fleet rose from the depths.
Silence engulfed the harbor.
Meron's smile slowly faded.
Interesting.
Sylpha's eyes narrowed.
Not at the ships.
At what they represented.
Industry.
Resources.
Coordination.
Engineering.
No kingdom built fleets like this accidentally.
The lead vessel eventually settled within the harbor.
A bridge extended.
Moments later.
Figures began to emerge.
Atlantean Marines.
Perfectly synchronized.
Silver-white armor covered their bodies.
Not plate armor.
Not traditional equipment.
Something else.
Something refined.
Something advanced.
Blue runic channels glowed softly beneath the surface.
White trident insignias adorned their shoulders.
Their weapons remained sheathed.
Yet every military observer present immediately recognized danger.
The equipment was standardized.
That alone was alarming.
Most kingdoms could outfit elites.
Atlantis appeared capable of outfitting entire armies.
Then the final figure appeared.
The harbor fell silent once more.
A herald stepped forward.
His voice amplified by magic.
"Presenting His Majesty."
The words echoed across the harbor.
"King Thalor Thalassar the First."
The figure stepped onto the bridge.
"Bearer of the Trident of Atlantis."
White hair moved gently in the sea breeze.
"Restorer of the Lost Kingdom."
The harbor grew quieter.
"Warden of the Deep Roads."
Scholars immediately began writing.
"Liberator of Kolga."
Several Awakened representatives visibly stiffened.
"Master of the Atlantean Archives."
The academic delegations looked ready to faint.
"Sovereign of Atlantis."
The Marines struck the butts of their weapons against the deck in perfect unison.
"Lord of the Endless Sea."
The sound echoed throughout the harbor.
"King of the Atlanteans."
Then silence returned.
Thalor stepped forward.
Twenty-four years old.
One hundred and eighty-five centimeters tall.
An athletic swimmer's build honed through years of combat and training.
White hair.
Violet eyes.
Silver-blue-black armor resting against his body like a second skin.
Worldborne Sigils visible across his neck and hands.
Ancient patterns flowing across his skin with impossible symmetry.
Queen Sylpha's attention immediately shifted.
Not to the armor.
Not to the Trident.
Not to the sigils.
The core.
Bright Violet.
Her expression remained composed.
Years of court training prevented any outward reaction.
Yet internally.
She froze.
Twenty-four.
Bright Violet.
Unknown bloodline.
Unknown sigils.
Unknown civilization.
Dangerous.
Not hostile.
Dangerous.
Meron noticed the slight shift in her posture.
"Well?"
He asked quietly.
Sylpha remained silent for several moments.
"The kingdom doesn't concern me."
Meron raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Her eyes never left Thalor.
"It's the man leading it."
Elsewhere among the royal delegation.
Royal Constable Tyris watched everything unfold.
Unlike everyone else.
She wasn't impressed by the ships.
Or the armor.
Or the titles.
She watched people.
And the young king walking toward the palace intrigued her greatly.
For reasons she couldn't quite explain.
Something told her this summit was about to become very interesting.