Chapter 285: Hevenfort: The Forgotten Palace

While Hevenfort was has been fully excavated, it still looked very much like a ruin. Buried under layers of ash, most of the wooden beams rotted. The engineering team had to reinforce the roof with steel.

"Brother, this palace should be as magnificent as our Asteria palace right?" Princess Zinnia said. Her gaze scanning the marble facade that gleamed in the morning sun.

"Based on our archives, Zalmeria acquired its first bicycle and sewing machine from Azuverda. Our anscestors were truly amazed by how advanced Azuverdan products were at that time."

Erina’s smile brightened. She was happy to hear such compliment. She felt that it was her intention being praised."

"Well, that’s how great my forefathers were." Erina laughed as she claimed kinship.

Lara and Amelia gave each other a knowing look, before shifting their attention to what was in front of them.

The palace’s towering double doors still stood, as if defying the passage of time. Crafted from premium mahogany, each slab was reinforced with bronze bands and sealed beneath countless layers of tar, making the wood almost impervious to decay. It was nothing short of miraculous that they had survived intact after lying buried beneath the earth for centuries.

Then again, perhaps it wasn’t a miracle at all.

When the cataclysmic eruption consumed Calma, a colossal wave of volcanic ash and pumice had entombed the entire city. What had once been a force of unimaginable destruction had, ironically, become its greatest guardian.

The delegation stepped through the doorway into an enormous drawing room.

A hushed silence fell over them.

Despite the centuries, much of the room remained astonishingly intact. Heavy hardwood tables and intricately forged metal furnishings still occupied their original places. Stubborn volcanic ash veiled every surface, yet beneath it lingered the unmistakable grandeur of a forgotten golden age.

Above them stretched a magnificent fresco across the vaulted ceiling. Though dulled by layers of soot and ash, its vibrant colors had endured. A single sweep of a cloth would likely restore much of its former brilliance.

During the eruption, searing pyroclastic flows—rivers of superheated gas, volcanic debris, and fine ash—had surged through every street and corridor of Calma. The scorching clouds seeped into every chamber, filling every crack and empty space before eventually cooling and hardening into a dense, stone-like shell.

The ancient capital had not merely been buried.

It had been sealed within a colossal volcanic tomb.

A city frozen in the very instant its history came to an end.

Lara slowly walked to the center of the drawing room.

Her dark eyes wandered across the silent hall, seeing not the dust-covered ruins before her, but the palace as it had once been.

Bright.

Warm.

Alive.

She could almost hear the echo of footsteps on the polished marble floor...

...the arrival of envoys from distant vassal kingdoms of the North, South, East and West, carrying priceless tributes as they knelt before the throne.

...the grand banquets that followed, where nobles filled the hall with laughter and music long into the night.

...the solemn audiences with emissaries from foreign nations seeking alliances, trade, or peace beneath this very ceiling.

For a fleeting moment... iIt felt as though the ghosts of the past still lingered here.

Ares noticed the subtle tension in her shoulders.

His expression softened as he quietly moved to her side.

"Lara... are you alright?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

He knew that look.

Her gaze was fixed on the room, yet it wasn’t seeing the room at all.

It was the same distant expression she wore whenever she woke from those vivid dreams... the ones where a single name always escaped her lips.

Alaric.

A sharp, unfamiliar pang tightened in Ares’ chest.

Jealousy.

It caught him off guard.

Lara has just officially became his girlfriend. Before that, she stood beside him, held his hand, smiled at him.

Yet a part of her seemed forever intertwined with another man.

A man who had died centuries ago.

The First Emperor of Azuverda.

The very man who built the palace in which they now stood.

Ridiculous! He thought.

How could he possibly feel threatened by someone long dead?

Ares let out a slow, silent breath, forcing the feeling back down where it belonged.

"You’re spacing out," he murmured with a faint smile, pretending nothing had crossed his mind.

Lara blinked, pulling herself back to the present.

"I just remembered something," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Before Ares could ask another question—

"Look at the painting on the ceiling!"

Amelia’s delighted squeal shattered the silence, instantly drawing everyone’s attention upward.

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she pointed toward one section of the sprawling fresco.

"That one! That’s the day Alaric nearly died to the wolves on Mount Ourea, the day Lara saved him."

She hurried to another panel.

"And over there! That’s the Battle of Carles, where Lara Norse disguised herself as a man under the name Kane Mendel!"

Her enthusiasm was utterly contagious.

Even Prince Yohannes, Princess Zinnia, and Erina craned their necks to study the paintings with undisguised fascination, their eyes wide with wonder as scenes from legends they had only heard in stories unfolded above them.

"How do you know so much?" Erina asked, unable to keep the curiosity from her voice.

But beneath her calm expression, a faint sting settled in her chest.

She had wanted to be the one explaining these stories to the royals from Zalmeria.

After all, she had spent the last few months studying the history of Calma.

Yet standing here, she realized how little she truly knew compared to Amelia. Every story, every painting, every forgotten detail seemed to come effortlessly to her.

The realization was... frustrating.

Far behind the group, Persius merely smiled to himself.

As expected of my granddaughter.

A true descendant of the Kromwels.

Their family had tried so had to keep the empire’s chroniclers for generations. Even during the purge. Their ancestors risked their lives to preserve that history.

Amelia rubbed the back of her head shyly before answering.

"Grandfather had a collection of ancient scrolls. I spent years reading them, so I ended up memorizing most of the stories."

There was unmistakable pride in her smile whenever she spoke of him.

Watching from the edge of the security detail, Liam couldn’t help but smile.

Somehow, the timid girl who used to hide behind others had disappeared without him noticing.

In her place stood a confident young woman whose eyes sparkled whenever she spoke about something she loved.

She had become radiant.

And seeing that transformation filled his heart with a quiet warmth. He found himself admiring her a little more with each passing day.

He would never let go of this precious gem.