Two days after Mage Kaelis's arrival, Leon remembered his promise to send updates.
He'd been so consumed with managing the gate situation that basic communication had slipped his mind, again.
I really need to get better at this, Leon thought, drafting a message to King Alderon.
The message was brief but comprehensive: Gate opened. No creatures emerged. Two weeks of observation. All forces intact. Situation unprecedented. Requesting guidance.
He sent it via the fastest messenger birds available, then watched them disappear toward the capital.
Mage Kaelis did the same, dispatching multiple birds to the Solmaran Empire with detailed reports of the inexplicable situation.
Then they waited.
The soldiers maintained their positions. Rotations continued. The defensive arrays stood ready. And the gate remained open, showing nothing but beautiful, peaceful plains that mocked their desperate preparations.
A response came two days later.
King Alderon was marching east. To the gate. To see for himself what had rendered the largest defensive force in living memory completely irrelevant.
The Solmaran Empire sent word that five ministers would be dispatched immediately to assess the situation and determine appropriate Imperial response.
Leon read both messages and felt dread settling into his stomach.
The king arrived first, one month after the gate's opening.
Leon stood with the senior officers and Mage Kaelis at the edge of Mudtown, watching the royal procession approach. The king's carriage gleamed silver and gold even under the cloudy skies, drawn by powerful horses bred specifically for the royal stable. Banners bearing the kingdom's colors flew from escort riders. Guards in ceremonial armor flanked the procession.
All that pageantry heading toward a mystery no one could explain.
The carriage stopped. King Alderon descended, flanked by knights and several court advisors. He looked older than Leon remembered - the stress of the past months showing in lines around his eyes and gray in his beard.
"Your Majesty," Leon said, bowing formally. The assembled officers followed suit.
"High Archmage Leon. Admiral-Mage Kaelis. Lord Casimir." The king acknowledged each in turn. "Show me this impossible gate."
They led him through Mudtown's ruins, past the supply depots and command posts, to the forest edge where the swamp began.
The king stopped, staring.
Leon watched his reaction - the same stunned incomprehension everyone showed when first seeing it. The massive gate stretching twenty miles across the horizon. And beyond it, visible through that impossible window -
Rolling plains covered in green grass. Swaying vegetation, perfect serenity.
The king stood silent for a long moment. Then: "I don't understand."
"Neither do we, Your Majesty," Leon replied quietly.
"You've been watching for over a month. Nothing has emerged? Nothing at all?"
"Nothing, Your Majesty. We've maintained constant observation. The gate remains open, stable, completely inactive."
"The energy saturation?" the king asked.
"Unprecedented, Your Majesty," a mage replied. "Beyond anything in our records. And yet... nothing. Just that." He gestured helplessly at the peaceful plains.
The king's expression was difficult to read. Relief that the catastrophic battle hadn't materialized? Confusion at the inexplicable situation? Frustration at maintaining such a massive force for what appeared to be nothing?
Probably all three.
"We'll establish court here temporarily," the king decided. "I want to see this myself. Observe the gate's behavior. Understand what we're actually facing before making any decisions."
Leon nodded. At least the king was being cautious. Better than making rash choices based on incomplete information.
The royal court settled into Mudtown over the following days. Tents erected, supplies organized, formal protocols established. An entire administrative apparatus transplanted to the swamp's edge, all to observe a gate that refused to do anything.
The Solmaran ministers arrived one week later.
Five of them, stepping off their carriages with the bearing of people accustomed to power and authority. They wore elaborate robes marking their positions in the Imperial government - representatives of different councils and administrative bodies.
Leon met them at the forest edge along with Mage Kaelis, King Alderon, and the assembled command staff.
The ministers' reaction to seeing the gate was more pronounced than the king's had been. They stood frozen, staring at the impossible sight. Several minutes passed before any of them recovered enough to speak.
"Your reports didn't exaggerate."
"Reports never do the Gate justice," Leon replied.
Before any substantial talks could begin, the lead minister - a severe man named Chancellor Quintus - stepped forward and addressed Mage Kaelis.
"Admiral-Mage Kaelis, on behalf of Emperor Valens and the Imperial Council, I present you with the Star of Valor." He produced an ornate medal from a velvet case. "In recognition of your decisive action in honoring the Empire's commitment to our allies. Your bravery and initiative exemplify the finest traditions of Imperial service."
The other ministers applauded. Kaelis accepted the medal with appropriate formality, though Leon noticed the slight tension in her jaw. This was politics - the Empire publicly rewarding her to save face after their council's indecision had nearly doomed the alliance.
An obvious ploy for partnership. Make Kaelis a hero, deflect attention from the fact that the Imperial Council had debated abandoning Aldoria while she'd committed what amounted to treason to honor their word.
But it was effective politics. Aldoria needed Solmara's continued support. Better to accept the gesture graciously than point out its manipulative nature.
The ceremony concluded. Then came the meeting.
They assembled in the largest tent in the command compound - King Alderon, Lord Casimir, the Sword Saint, the five Solmaran ministers, Admiral-Mage Kaelis, senior military commanders from both kingdoms, and Leon.
What followed was politics so heavy and convoluted it made Leon want to scream.
The Solmaran ministers opened with concerns about maintaining such a large military deployment when no threat had materialized. Suggested that perhaps a smaller observation force would be more appropriate, allowing most soldiers to return to normal duties.
King Alderon countered that reducing forces would leave them vulnerable if the gate suddenly became active. Better to maintain current strength until they understood the situation.
Then came discussions of cost-sharing for maintaining the combined army. Who would pay for supplies? How would command authority be divided? What were the long-term implications for Aldorian-Solmaran relations?
Chancellor Quintus raised the question of the loans from the Free Cities. Now that the immediate catastrophe hadn't occurred, perhaps those terms could be renegotiated? And what role would Solmara play in Aldoria's financial recovery?
Lord Casimir parried with careful diplomatic language about sovereign debt and kingdom autonomy, while simultaneously expressing gratitude for Imperial support.
Back and forth. Thrust and counter-thrust. Every statement layered with implication. Every gesture calculated for political effect.
Leon sat through it all, teeth grinding in barely contained discomfort. This wasn't his world. Give him a problem to solve, calculations to run, defenses to coordinate - fine. But this dance of words and hidden meanings and political maneuvering made him want to flee the tent.
The discussion spiraled through topics: trade agreements, defensive pacts, shared intelligence about gates, potential colonization rights if the gate remained stable, diplomatic protocols for future cooperation -
"Perhaps," Chancellor Quintus interrupted the latest circular debate, "we should hear from the High Archmage. He's been observing this gate longer than anyone. His expertise might illuminate our discussion."
Every eye turned to Leon.
He felt grateful for the change in topic - anything to escape the political quagmire - and simultaneously wary. Being asked to explain meant being put on the spot, expected to provide answers he didn't have.
"High Archmage Leon," the king said formally. "Please share your assessment of the Horizon Gate's current state and your recommendations for how we should proceed."
Leon stood, moving to the map table at the tent's center. Better to focus on concrete information than diplomatic dancing.
"The gate has been open for thirty-nine days," Leon began. "We've maintained constant observation. The view beyond has remained consistent - plains, vegetation, a mountain. No creatures have approached the gate. No sounds, no movement beyond wind affecting the grass."
He pointed to measurement charts one of the mages had prepared.
"The magical saturation remains at unprecedented levels. Mages are overwhelmed near the gate. But the energy is... stable. Not building toward anything, just present at constant high density."
"Have you attempted any direct investigation?" one of the ministers asked.
"Limited," Leon replied. "We've sent observation teams to the gate's edge -not through it, just close enough for detailed examination. The barrier between worlds is completely dissolved.
"And the lack of creatures?" Chancellor Quintus pressed.
"Unrecorded in all gate research," Leon admitted. "Every documented gate has produced creatures within seconds or minutes of opening. This one has shown none for over a month."
"Theories?" the king asked.
Leon took a breath. This was where it got speculative.
"Several possibilities. First: that world might be barren of life entirely. Just empty plains extending forever. Though that seems unlikely given the vegetation we can see."
"Second?" Kaelis prompted.
"The creatures in that world might be so distant from the gate that they haven't reached it yet. Though thirty-nine days should be enough time for something to investigate such a massive energy signature."
"Third?" one of the commanders asked.
"The creatures might be intelligent enough to be cautious. Observing the gate from a distance, trying to understand it before approaching. Though no traditional gate creatures have shown that level of strategic thinking."
Silence in the tent.
"All of the theories are concerning," Leon said. "Either that world is empty -which violates everything we know about how gates work - or it contains something we don't understand."
"Which brings us to the essential question," Chancellor Quintus said. "What do we do about it?"
More discussion. More circular debate. Maintain full forces versus reduce deployment. Continue passive observation versus active investigation. Treat it as ongoing threat versus unprecedented opportunity.
Leon listened to the arguments spiral without resolution. Everyone had opinions. No one had answers.
Finally, the king held up a hand for silence.
"We're discussing contingencies for situations we don't understand," he said. "Before we can make informed decisions, we need more information. Real information, not theories and speculation."
"What are you proposing, Your Majesty?" Kaelis asked.
The king looked at Leon. "High Archmage, in your professional assessment, is it possible to safely send an expedition through the gate? To investigate what lies beyond and return with concrete information?"
Leon's stomach dropped.
He'd known this was coming. Had felt the discussion building toward it. But hearing it stated directly made it real.
They were going to send people through the gate.