The palace stood quiet under the storm’s hammering. Rain lashed against the jeweled windows while thunder rolled like the roar of distant armies. In the vast expanse of the Emperor’s study, the golden candleholders flickered against mountains of scrolls and papers. Emperor Darius Asme IV sat slouched behind his desk, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose while the other tapped impatiently on the armrest.
The empire—his empire—was slipping. He could feel it in the way reports piled up faster than he could sign them, in the unrest among the commoners, in the whispers of nobles gathering in secret halls. He was growing too old for this endless chase.
His eyes drifted to the portrait on the far wall: his eldest son, Crown Prince Mark, painted with a bright smile before the collapse that had stolen his strength.
Darius’s jaw tightened.
"Mark..." he muttered, almost to himself.
"Twelve years old when you fell... ten years since then, and still you cannot rise. My heir. My disgrace."
The words burned on his tongue, but they were truth. A sickly prince who could not stand was no heir. The weight of the crown grew heavier as Darius pushed himself from his chair, pacing the length of the room. His robes whispered against the floor, his steps uneven.
And that was when the door creaked.
"Your Majesty," a smooth voice greeted.
Hale, his oldest advisor, stepped inside, carrying not papers but a knowing smirk.
"You’re late," Darius grunted, lowering himself into his seat again.
Hale bowed slightly, then allowed himself the freedom of familiarity. "At my age, it takes a moment to convince my knees to move in the right direction. Perhaps I should borrow one of the palace pages to drag me here."
"Hah!" A short laugh burst from the Emperor’s chest. "If you’re old, then what am I? Dust itself?"
"Dust that still bites harder than iron," Hale replied with a chuckle, settling into the chair opposite.
"You’re sulking again," Hale said, smirking. "Every time it rains, you turn into a poet with wrinkles."
Darius snorted. "And every time you drink my wine, I’m reminded why I should’ve had you executed twenty years ago."
"Ah, but then who would keep your precious nobles from biting your head off?" Hale tipped his cup. "Besides, you’d miss me."
The two men exchanged a look—equal parts banter and the unspoken truth of decades of friendship.
"Speaking of heads being bitten off," Hale said, settling forward, "the noble ladies are already circling like hawks. I’ve heard at least six proposals for young Prince Eilan’s hand this week alone."
Darius raised a brow. "Six? Hells, that’s fewer than last month."
"They’re waiting for the ball season," Hale said with a sly grin. "Give it a month and they’ll be scratching each other’s eyes out in your ballroom."
The Emperor chuckled, deep and amused. "Then let them fight. If they want my son so badly, they can duel for it. Winner takes the second prince."
"You joke," Hale said, shaking his head, "but I swear half of them would march into the lists tomorrow if you announced it."
Darius leaned back, smirk tugging at his lips. "And besides, Eilan already has his eyes on someone."
"Oh?" Hale drawled, raising his brow. "Do enlighten me before I drown myself in suspense."
"Liliana of Fiorie," the Emperor said simply.
Hale choked on his wine. "That baron’s daughter? The knight girl?"
"The one who beat half your generals in the sparring yard when she was fifteen?" Hale’s voice was half disbelief, half amusement. Content originally comes from novel_fіre.net
"By the gods, Darius." Hale slapped the table, laughing. "Your son has a crush on a woman who could knock him flat with a practice sword. A stubborn prince and a wild lioness knight—tell me that isn’t fate mocking you."
"Mocking me?" Darius smirked. "I call it entertainment. I promised her a wish years ago. If she brings me back the sword she seeks, maybe I’ll grant it. Perhaps even the engagement."
"Or perhaps she’ll throw it back in your face," Hale muttered. "That girl doesn’t bend easily."
"And that," Darius said, eyes glinting, "is exactly why I like her."
A shadow of a smile softened the Emperor’s face. "She’s the only one I’ve seen shut Eilan up with a single glare."
"And yet," Hale teased, "you promised her to Mark."
The warmth faded from Darius’s expression. He waved a hand dismissively. "It was the boy’s wish when she proved herself. And I am a man of my word."
"Even if it stirs storms in your house?" Hale pressed.
Darius snorted. "Better storms in here than weakness on the throne."
Hale swirled his goblet again, his tone turning teasing. "All this matchmaking, yet you’ve refused to remarry yourself. The court still whispers, you know."
The Emperor barked a laugh. "Whisper all they like. I’ve no intention of chaining myself to another viper. One snake was enough."
"The late Empress wasn’t just a snake, Darius," Hale said with mock solemnity. "She was a whole pit of them."
"And I survived," Darius said dryly. "Why risk it twice?"
"Because the Empire would like another empress, perhaps? Someone to sweeten your moods and give us less of your rain-soaked sulking?"
The Emperor smirked. "If you want a woman in your life so badly, Hale, go find one yourself."
"I’d rather keep drinking your wine," Hale shot back, and both men chuckled.
But the humor didn’t last. As the laughter faded, Hale set his goblet down with a quiet clink.
"There are... rumors, Your majesty."
The Emperor’s smile dimmed. "There are always rumors. Which poison do you bring me tonight?"
"The temple speaks of a child of prophecy. A being who wields magic without crystal, raw and unshaped."
Darius’s eyes narrowed. The thunder outside gave weight to his silence. "The temple whispers too much. They’ve used prophecy to chain men since time immemorial."
"Perhaps," Hale admitted, "but this one has teeth. Word from the forest says Liliana did not go alone. She took others with her. Knights, yes... but also a boy."
"Yes," Hale said, his gaze sharp. "A mere teenager, they say. A guide, supposedly."
The Emperor frowned, fingers tapping against the table. "Strange. Liliana is reckless, but she does not drag children into cursed forests without cause."
Hale leaned back, letting the silence hang. "If the rumors are true, then maybe this boy is more than he seems."
The Emperor’s hand tightened on the goblet. The storm thundered as if echoing his unease.
"Liliana... Aithur... and now some nameless boy." He exhaled slowly, a shadow of worry crossing his features. "The forest hides too many secrets. And I cannot afford more uncertainty."
Hale watched him, lips twitching. "You almost sound afraid."
Darius shot him a look, though his smirk returned faintly. "Afraid? No. Just... curious."
A knock rattled the door. A soaked messenger burst in, bowing low. "Your Majesty... urgent word from the Envelon Forest."
The Emperor straightened, voice sharp. "Speak."
"Sir... they’ve entered deep within. And the boy... he is no ordinary guide."
Darius’s eyes narrowed, stormlight flashing in their depths. "Another piece on the board, then."
The thunder outside cracked like a war drum as the Emperor leaned back in his chair, gaze dark with new resolve.
"Let’s see what game the gods are playing this time."