New Invitations and a Farewell Dance

"Captain," Serenity's voice chimed, pulling him from his reverie. "We are receiving an official envoy. From Seranovia."

Roy blinked. "Already? I thought we'd have at least another week of blessed, uninterrupted chaos before the next kingdom decided to poke us." He pushed himself out of his chair as two Presidroids ushered a young, visibly nervous courier into the room.

The messenger, clad in the fine but practical livery of the Seranovian court, bowed low. His hands trembled slightly as he presented a sealed parchment cylinder. "An official invitation to the triennial Festival of Ascendance," the messenger recited, his voice a well-rehearsed monotone. "And a formal request for your guild registration, courtesy of the Seranovian high council."

Roy took the parchment, popping the wax seal with his thumb. Guild membership. It had crossed his mind, but a formal invitation from the world's strongest empire? That was new. He glanced at Maelara, who stood nearby with her massive arms crossed. A knowing, almost challenging smile played on her lips.

"I've had dealings with Seranovia before," she said, her voice a low, confident rumble. "They're not perfect, but they are more honorable than most of the cesspits that call themselves kingdoms. Their festivals are legendary, their guild system robust. If you want any semblance of credibility, accepting their invitation is a strategically sound move."

Roy turned the heavy parchment over in his hands, a low hum of thought in his throat. "We could definitely use some official status. Especially if it means fewer empires sending assassins after us."

Later, Roy found Orden in the command center, his small face illuminated by the holographic glow of a massive tactical display. He was utterly transfixed, his eyes wide with a strange, feverish intensity.

"Show me again, Roy! Please!" Orden bounced on the balls of his feet, his excitement a palpable force in the quiet room.

With a weary sigh, Roy keyed in the command. The display flickered, then erupted with the archived drone footage of his confrontation with the Kaigun Dominion. He fast-forwarded to the moment just before the first detonation. The image of his own face filled the screen, larger than life, his expression a carefully constructed mask of arrogant, theatrical menace. His voice boomed from the speakers. "Behold my… Starshard Cataclysm!"

Orden didn't even flinch at the blinding flash of the nuke. His eyes were glued to the screen, but not to the explosion. He was watching Roy's performance. The grand, sweeping gestures. The dramatic pronouncements. The sheer, unadulterated showmanship of it all. When the footage shifted to the Worldsplitting Calamity, Orden let out a squeal of pure delight.

"Oh, that was brilliant!" he chirped, his eyes shining. "The way you paused! The way you let the fear build! Utterly magnificent! You're a true artist, Roy! A maestro of menacing monologues!"

Roy just stared at him, a flicker of profound confusion on his face. This ancient, primordial being, capable of unraveling reality, wasn't impressed by the city-leveling power. He was captivated by the bad acting.

Preparations for the voyage buzzed throughout Otherrealm's newly expanded docks. Warrex, with a surprising, almost fussy attention to detail, oversaw the stacking of cargo. Lutrian meticulously checked their planned sea routes. The three AI sisters kept the ship's systems humming, their occasional, sharp-tongued bickering over the intercom now a familiar backdrop.

In a quiet corner of the fortress, Roy made a final stop to visit Viperael. Coiled in its partly constructed corridor, the massive serpent lifted its head, flicking its forked tongue in a silent greeting. Its shimmering black scales glinted in the sunlight. Already thicker than Roy's own torso, it could easily crush an armored knight without even trying.

Roy reached out, patting its smooth, warm side. "Hey, buddy. I have to head out for a while. So, you behave, okay? No eating the construction workers....unless they deserve it."

Orden, who had trailed Roy, peeked around his shoulder. He regarded the massive serpent with a detached, clinical curiosity, like a scientist observing a particularly interesting amoeba. Eryndra, who had been quietly watching, stepped forward.

"He's gotten… bigger," she noted, her voice a masterclass in understatement.

Evarran appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, a stack of scrolls tucked under one arm. He peered at Viperael, an analytical glint in his ancient eyes. "Fascinating," he murmured. "Its growth rate is illogical. Captain Gunn, I have a theory. Your constant, passive mana link with this creature is not just fueling its physical growth. It is… imprinting upon it."

Roy frowned. "Imprinting?"

"Indeed," Evarran continued, his excitement growing. "I believe the serpent is beginning to develop a protective nature that mirrors your own. It senses threats to the settlement through a shared, empathic connection. It is, in essence, becoming a living extension of your will to protect this place."

Roy stared at Viperael, who let out a low, contented hiss and nudged Roy's hand with its massive snout. Then, almost on cue, Roy felt the faint sparkle of the Dreamer's Grace in his eyes flicker and dim, the subtle sense of cosmic luck ebbing away like a gentle tide. He exhaled. "Well, that's that," he murmured.

By evening, a city-wide party erupted in the central plaza to celebrate the official opening of Otherrealm's first school. Dancers twirled across the cobblestones, and merchants set up stalls of roasted meats and sweet pastries.

Roy lingered near a corner, sipping a cup of punch, when Zehrina sauntered up, a sly grin on her face. "Captain," she teased, bowing low with a dramatic flourish, "might I have this dance?"

Before Roy could stammer out an excuse, she grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. The music picked up, and Zehrina's smooth, confident steps guided Roy's clumsy, stumbling ones.

From the sidelines, Eryndra watched, her arms folded, a thunderous expression on her face. Warrex and Lutrian exchanged a grim nod. Time to rescue the Captain. They stepped onto the floor, but their valiant effort was doomed. Takara, with a cunning that was truly terrifying, slid under Warrex's arms, hooking a foot around his ankle and sending the massive beastman stumbling. Zehrina, with a flick of her fingers, formed a shimmering, invisible barrier that boxed Lutrian away from them.

Across the way, Eryndra leaped from her stool, marching forward with the iron resolve of a woman on a mission. She parted the bystanders like a storm, only to find that Tadanori had somehow gotten tangled up with Roy mid-turn. Roy, seeing an opportunity to finally escape Zehrina's clutches, had latched onto him for stability.

The music ended in a final flourish, leaving Roy breathless in the middle of the floor, Tadanori's face a brilliant shade of crimson as he skittered away. "Why is it always me!?" Tadanori said.

After the party's chaos mellowed, Roy found a chance to approach Maelara.

"You wanted something?" she asked briskly.

"Yes," Roy said. "I'm heading to Seranovia. I'd like you to come along. Help me navigate their politics, maybe back me up if they try anything weird."

A flicker of surprise crossed her face. "I assumed you'd want me holding down Otherrealm. But if you want me by your side, it might lend your little diplomatic mission some credibility, I suppose. My arms are known far and wide."

He gave a half-smile. "We've grown used to each other's blunt honesty. Plus, you know more about Seranovia's customs than anyone here that is strong enough to properly back us up. So, yeah. I'd feel a hell of a lot better if you joined the team, just for a little bit."

She studied him for a moment, then nodded sharply. "Alright, Captain. I'll go. But I better get access to the pantry for a week!"

Roy laughed under his breath. "No promises."

As late evening set in, the party wound down. The crew filtered out of the plaza. Orden, who had watched the entire fiasco with wide-eyed delight, clung to Roy's hand, half-asleep but determined to stay close as they all headed back toward the Nightshatter to prepare for the journey ahead.