The marble hall of the Valerian Empire's throne room was heavy with incense and silence. Tapestries depicting ancient battles hung from the high ceilings, their colors dulled by time. A long red carpet stretched to the dais, where the Emperor of the Human Nation sat upon his golden throne.
Before him stood his generals, ministers, and nobles each cloaked in wealth, each hiding sharpened daggers of ambition behind courteous smiles.
A gray-haired general slammed a rolled map onto the obsidian table at the chamber's center.
"Your Majesty, this is no longer a mere village. Everwood has walls stronger than our border forts. Their armaments strange thunder-weapons outmatch even our finest steel. And now…" He jabbed a trembling finger at the parchment. "…the Dragon Nation has sent their king to ally with them."
The room stirred in panic. Even the most arrogant nobles paled at the mention of dragons.
The Emperor, a man draped in crimson robes and an iron crown, raised his jeweled hand. The noise died instantly. His eyes glinted with a cold, calculating light.
"So… a boy builds a home, and suddenly the world bows to him. How amusing."
One minister, plump and perfumed, sneered.
"Majesty, if this… Everwood is left unchecked, our people will flock to them. Who would not choose progress over loyalty? Their streets already shine brighter than our imperial capital!"
"Then we crush them," another noble barked. "We gather our legions and trample the village beneath our banners. End it swiftly before the other nations notice."
A ripple of agreement moved across the chamber, but the Emperor did not stir. Instead, his gaze shifted to the hooded figure at his right an advisor from the Imperial Church, robed in black and silver.
The churchman's voice was smooth, like oil.
"Direct war is unwise, Majesty. The dragons would not tolerate it. Neither would the Beastkin, who already favor this Itsuki. An open assault may unite the fractured nations against us."
The generals grumbled, but none could deny the truth.
The Emperor's lips curved in a thin smile.
"Then we bleed them slowly."
The words slithered through the chamber like a serpent.
"Send whispers to the guilds. Spread tales that Everwood hoards forbidden power. Let adventurers flock there, some in greed, others in fear. If Everwood's hands are bloodied against humans, their image will crumble."
He leaned forward, resting his chin upon his hand.
"Hire mercenaries. Stir the bandit clans. Let blades fall in the night. If the boy survives each storm, he will grow weary. If he falters, we will be the saviors who bring order."
The churchman bowed his head. "And the Church shall brand Everwood as heretical. No village should wield power greater than God's chosen kingdoms."
A hush fell across the chamber. Even the boldest noble avoided the Emperor's gaze. They all knew this was not a man plotting mere suppression. This was the opening move of a long, silent war.
At last, the Emperor rose from his throne, his cloak trailing like spilled blood across the carpet.
"Everwood has risen quickly. But a fire that burns too bright consumes itself."
He turned his back to his court, staring out at the distant horizon beyond the stained-glass windows.
"Let the boy believe he is building a kingdom. We shall remind him that empires are not forged by miracles… but by conquest."
And in the shadows, the nobles bowed, their voices like a rustling storm.
"Glory to the Emperor."