Weeks had passed since the clash, since the punishments that etched themselves into history. Yet, the ripples of that day still spread across the empire, reaching even my table, my breath, my very sleep.
I sat in my study, the walls lined with old maps of territories swallowed by the Blackwood Union. The ink on the papers looked like blood stains now. My men came in and out daily with reports — whispers, movements, rumors of shifting loyalties.
Chris had proven again that he was untouchable. He punished me, punished Soren, punished everyone who dared let their pride move faster than their loyalty. He didn't just strike us; he wrote a new law in our skin.
And I… I felt it deeper than most.
Because when he looked at me that day, when his judgment fell on my shoulders, I didn't just see a ruler. I saw a brother turned executioner of pride. He reminded me of my place in his empire. My blood wasn't enough to shield me. My loyalty wasn't enough to excuse me. My legacy… had to bend to his will.
Now my men move differently around me. Some see me as weakened, others as tested. But I know better. Chris didn't weaken me — he chained me tighter. And that chain burned.
I poured a glass of dark liquor, staring into it like it carried answers.
Eight months ago, I was rising like fire. Today, I am smoldering like coal, forced into patience.
But patience is dangerous. Coal doesn't die; it waits. And when the right breath comes, it erupts again into flame.
The soldiers were restless, whispering in corners. The BAM men, loyal to Soren, had hardened after his barrack speech. My own men — loyal to me — asked silent questions with their eyes whenever they saluted. Questions I dared not answer aloud.
I leaned back, letting the drink burn down my throat.
Chris had punished us to prove a point. But in punishing us all — me, Soren, every faction involved — he may have done something else too.
He planted seeds.
Seeds of fear. Seeds of doubt. Seeds of… possibilities.
Because when great men break other great men in public, the world begins to wonder: if they can be broken, can they also be replaced?
I clenched my jaw. No. I was not planning rebellion. Not today. Not tomorrow. Chris was my blood, my King. But blood is complicated. Blood remembers. Blood burns.
And one day, when the time is right… blood spills.
For now, I would wait. I would smile. I would serve. But in the quiet of my thoughts, I whispered to myself:
This empire may belong to Chris. But history… history may still belong to me.
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