'Hidden Quest Completed!: A Dynasty Is Born!'
'Expand your lineage to 3 generations.'
'Rewards: 1 x 2500-Man Bodyguard Unit Summon and 1x 500-Man Bodyguard Cavalry Unit Summon'
Victor's Royal Guard had now doubled in size, bolstering their numbers to 5,000 French Imperial Guard infantrymen and 1,000 Royal Scots Grey cavalry. With more elite soldiers joining the Royal Guard, Victor felt emboldened to leave for Zandar. If such elite soldiers were guarding his family, he would not have to worry about leaving. But it would take time to arrive in Roma.
It would take 6 months for Victor to marshal his troops and travel to Roma. Victor knew that he would need a sizable force to really put pressure on the Pope and Alphonse. With this in mind, it took 2 months to rally nine corps to Hannover along with a sizeable fleet to protect them on their journey.
The nine corps selected to journey to Zandar were: General Rapp's 1st Corps, General Tauentzien's 3rd Corps, Marshal Lefebvre's 4th Corps, Marshal Lannes's 9th Corps, Field Marshal Wellesley's 11th Corps, Marshal Soult's 12th Corps, General Lasalle's 14th Corps, General Tuchkov's 16th Corps, Marshal Davout's 18th Corps.
Once all the soldiers were mustered and loaded onto transport ships, Victor set off to Zandar for a third time.
4 months of travel later, Victor and his army arrived outside the city of Roma.
The news of Victor Luxenberg's arrival reached Roma before his banners were seen.
It came first as a rumour; whispers carried by merchants, by pilgrims, by nervous couriers who rode through the gates at dawn with dust still clinging to their cloaks. Then it became fact. Half the army of Luxenberg was marching south, not in haste, not in fury, but with deliberate purpose. Not an invasion. A statement.
The Luxenberg host did not encircle Roma, nor did it press close to her walls. Instead, it settled on the broad plains east of the city. The camp stretched wide and orderly, rows of white and blue tents aligned with geometric precision, artillery placed openly but not aimed, cavalry horses picketed where they could be seen from afar.
The golden eagle of Luxenberg flew high on dark blue fields, its wings catching the sun.
This was no army preparing to strike. It was an army making itself impossible to ignore.
Victor rode the perimeter personally on the first evening, accompanied by his generals. He wore no crown, only his field coat and sword. Fires burned low; discipline was strict. No foraging parties crossed into Visconte land without permission. No insults were shouted toward the city. The restraint itself was a warning.
From the walls of Roma, the sight was unsettling.
The Visconte banners still flew over the towers, but beneath them, guards shifted uneasily. Priests gathered in hushed knots. Nobles sent servants scurrying back and forth with messages that contradicted each other by the hour.
Alphonse stood on the eastern battlements at dusk, his hands resting on the cold stone. He did not speak for a long time.
"They did not come to threaten," he said at last. "No," replied one of his generals. "That is what makes it threatening."
Within the city, Pope Constantine IV was already awake to the meaning of it.
The Holy Father received the reports in silence, fingers steepled, eyes unreadable. When the cardinal finished speaking, Constantine rose from his chair and crossed the chamber slowly.
"Victor Luxenberg does nothing without intention," the Pope said."This is not war. It is arbitration: armed, unmistakable arbitration."
"And if we refuse to meet?" Cardinal Rufus asked.
Constantine's gaze hardened."Then Roma becomes the stage upon which Christendom tears itself apart."
On the second morning, a single rider approached the city under a white banner trimmed in blue. He bore no weapon beyond a ceremonial sabre and wore the insignia of Luxenberg openly.
The messenger spoke, and he delivered a message that was brief and devastating in its clarity.
"My King requests firmly that His Holiness, Pope Constantine IV and His Majesty, King Alphonse Visconte, meet him in council. Not as enemies, not as rivals, but as men who wish to avert more bloodshed on this continent."
The venue selected for this meeting was a neutral site: An ancient villa just beyond the city's eastern gate, long unused, its halls broad enough to host kings without placing either within the other's stronghold.
When word reached the camp that both Alphonse and Pope Constantine had accepted, Victor allowed himself a rare smile.
"Good," he said. "Then Roma may yet be spared its worst chapter."
The meeting was set for dusk; they would waste no time in getting this meeting underway.
Alphonse arrived first.
He wore no crown, only a dark military coat with the Visconte sigil worked subtly into the collar. He looked thinner than Victor remembered, sharper somehow, as if rulership had begun carving him down to essentials. His expression was controlled, but his eyes flicked briefly toward the hills where Victor's army waited.
"I take it, you did not bring this sizeable army just to tell me of my grandson's birth," Alphonse said quietly.
Victor did not rise from his seat. "As amazing as it is to welcome Cedric to this world, unfortunately, you know that this is due to the unsettling news I have been hearing."
Alphonse's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Moments later, Pope Constantine IV entered.
Not in full ceremonial splendour, but not in humility either. His vestments were deep crimson, edged with gold, the weight of centuries stitched into every fold. Cardinals Rufus and Naso followed like shadows, faces unreadable, hands folded, eyes watchful.
Constantine did not acknowledge Alphonse at first.
He looked only at Victor.
"So," the Pope said, voice calm as still water, "the king who once helped topple the Red Visconte now decides when Christendom must pause."
Victor stood then. Slowly. Fully.
"I decide nothing for Christendom," he replied. "I decide for men who will die if you two continue pretending this is a matter of doctrine instead of power."
Silence struck the chamber like a held breath. The meeting had begun.