From the grey, industrial world of Ironpeak, I traveled south with Kai and a contingent of fifty of his best Rangers. We left the solid, comforting stone of the Iron Road behind, plunging into the wild canyons and scrublands that formed the heart of the Confederacy's nomadic territories. The journey took two weeks, but it was not a march; it was a demonstration. The Rangers moved like water, flowing through the landscape, their sand-colored desert horses seeming to be a part of the earth itself. They were no longer just a tribe; they were the masters of this domain.
Our destination was the Silent Basin, the traditional meeting place of the Ashen tribe and now the de facto capital of the nomadic peoples. The basin, once a sparse collection of tents, was now a sprawling, orderly city of its own. Thousands of goats and desert horses grazed in the surrounding lands, their health a testament to Kael's teachings, which had spread through the tribe like a gospel of growth. The people were clad in durable textiles woven in Oakhaven and armed with Ironpeak steel, but they retained their fierce independence and their nomadic soul. They were our southern shield, a living, breathing wall of loyalty and vigilance.
Anya, though her hair was now as white as desert salt, greeted me with the same sharp, assessing eyes. She was still the undisputed matriarch of the plains, but she greeted me not as a lord to a vassal, but as a fellow leader. We shared a meal of roasted goat and sharp cheese, sitting on thick woolen blankets that had been a gift from my mother's weaving cooperative.
"The kingdom's snakes have no holes left to hide in," Anya said, her voice dry as the desert wind. "Your 'economic war' has left their merchants with empty purses and their agents with empty promises. We see their caravans from a hundred miles off, and their spies find only dust and silence. They are a sick wolf, growling in its den, too weak to hunt."
Her report confirmed what my own network had been telling me. The kingdom was not just paralyzed; it was decaying. The time had come for the final leg of my tour, to see this defense firsthand.
With Kai and Ren, I rode for three days more, to the 'Long Watch' station high in the border mountains. It was not a single fortress, but a network of concealed, interconnected posts nestled in the highest peaks of the Dragon's Spine range. From this eagle's nest, we could see deep into the territory of Aerthos. This was the nerve center of our intelligence network, a place where military scouting, cartography, and espionage converged.
In the central command post, a large tent cleverly disguised as a rock formation, Ren, my quiet Spymaster, unrolled a series of astonishingly detailed maps on a large table. They were the work of our Lyceum's best cartographers, updated daily by reports from Ranger patrols.
"My Lord, the kingdom is rotting from within," Ren began, his voice low but precise. He was no longer the hesitant former raider, but a confident intelligence chief. He tapped a region far to the north on the map. "Lord Vaelin's economic war has backfired spectacularly. It has caused hyperinflation here, in the northern border towns, and has fomented open rebellion among the lords who bear the brunt of the new taxes. They are no longer paying fealty to the Crown. King Theron's health is failing. Our double agent, Cassius, confirms the court is paralyzed by infighting between Vaelin's faction and the old military nobility, who blame him for the defeat of General Kaelen and the subsequent decline."
Kai stepped forward, his lean finger tracing the lands directly below us. "Their border patrols are a joke. They are undermanned, demoralized, and terrified of us. They do not patrol beyond five leagues of their own fortresses. Their mounts are weak, their equipment in disrepair. For all intents and purposes," he drew a sweeping line across the map, "this entire region is now a Confederate buffer zone. They have conceded it without a fight."
I took the powerful spyglass, an artifact of our own advanced artisans, and looked east. I saw exactly what they described. I saw the decaying forts of the kingdom, their banners tattered, their walls crumbling. I saw fallow fields, villages that looked empty and listless. It was a land sick with neglect.
Then I looked back, west, towards my own lands. I couldn't see the cities themselves, but I could feel their presence. I could imagine the distant smoke of Ironpeak's forges, the vibrant green of Oakhaven's fields, the steady, powerful pulse of the nation we had built.
Five years ago, I had been given a graveyard to rule. Today, I stood as the undisputed master of a thriving, secure, and prosperous nation, while the kingdom that had scorned me was crumbling under the weight of its own arrogance. The tour was complete. I finally understood the true scale of what we had built. It was not just a city, not just an alliance. It was a kingdom of sand and stone that was now more powerful, more vital, and more alive than the decaying empire of my father.