—Imperial Capital Eidros, Solmarch Empire—
In the heart of the bustling capital city of the Solmarch Empire stood a magnificent palace. Its walls stretched far and wide, so much so that a single patrol required multiple shifts to complete a full circuit of the outer wall.
For commoners—who would never even be able to gaze upon it up close—it was a paradise separated by fortified, glistening walls made from something special, or so the legends claimed.
The palace was like a city within a city, but it was far more than that. It was the magnet that pulled the entirety of the empire toward it—a place where the flap of a butterfly's wings could, perhaps, change the course of history.
Amid the city's glamour, the palace stood out like a sore thumb. It was something every commoner looked upon with awe and reverence, a place of dignity and imperial might. It was the embodiment of the glory of the Empire—and of the Emperor.
Within its walls, every arrangement seemed calculated to the tiniest detail. From the petals of the flowers to the winding pathways, from the romantic floral gardens to the elegant blue pools, not a single thing was out of place, not a single corner left untouched by luxury.
Yet perhaps nothing could match the splendor of the Emperor's favorite place in the entire palace—
The Luna Garden.
This was a garden of otherworldly charm. As if it were personally crafted by the Elven Goddess of legends it was named after—Luna.
Pathways crisscrossed amidst meticulously groomed bushes, swaying colorful flowers of rare species—just enough to catch the eye in a fleeting glance, as though in sight but subtly hidden in the background.
The wind carried the dew sprayed by the fountains onto the petals of flowers and blades of grass, the warm sunlight making the entire landscape glitter, while peacocks roamed freely, spreading their feathers and stretching their manes, performing graceful dances as if to proclaim fealty to the Emperor—His Majesty Corrino III of House Solvarn.
Under the shade of the canopy, two men sat opposite each other in the shade, a chessboard laid out in front of them, silence prevailing as they moved the pieces one after another.
Emperor Corrino shifted comfortably in his seat, his gaze fixed on the board laid atop the golden table, its surface ornamented with tiny pearls and diamond engravings. He idly twirled the glass of wine in his hand, sunlight catching in the crimson liquid and casting a faint prism of light across his face.
The man sitting opposite him wore a monocle. He had a faint smile on his face as he said calmly, "Check."
The Emperor frowned and moved his king, only for his opponent to follow up instantly. This repeated a few times, the man wearing the monocle calling "Check" after every move as he forced the Emperor's king to run around like a wounded dog.
The Emperor raised his head and scowled. His opponent's way of saying "Check," with that slight smirk on his face, was particularly annoying—deliberate even.
The Emperor truly tried, but after a few more cat-and-mouse chases, his king was trapped. Finally, the man adjusted his monocle, his expression very punchable indeed, as he looked at the Emperor with a smile on his face. Then, he grabbed the Emperor's king in his fist and said, "Checkmate, Your Majesty!"
The Emperor spread his arms helplessly and shrugged. "Tell me, how did I lose this time?"
The man wearing the monocle rearranged the pieces, returning to a particular position from the game. "Too aggressive, Your Majesty. You had a promising attack, but without meticulous preparation, it fell short."
The Emperor narrowed his eyes as he took a sip of the wine. "This is not about chess, is it?"
"Your Majesty is wise," the monocled man, Sieg, bowed slightly.
The Emperor's gaze sharpened, his fists clenching. "Do you still remember when we were young? I was just a prince back then—a nefarious one."
Sieg chuckled, spreading his arms as he remarked casually, "Yes, and now you are a nefarious Emperor."
A confident smile appeared on the Emperor's face. "So what? I snatched this throne against all odds, crushed the rebel dogs sixteen years ago, expanded our borders, and brought prosperity to a stagnant realm." His smile turned to disdain as he added mockingly, "I suppressed those centuries-old leeches and parasites, yet they still want to dictate which woman this sovereign should bed and which he shouldn't?"
Sieg paused. "The Divine Order…"
"Nonsense! Don't pretend to be some paragon of virtue now. Which brothel in this capital hasn't yet had your patronage?"
Sieg's brows twitched. "Alas… why bring up the past? Wasn't it because Your Majesty corrupted my innocent young soul with your misadventures?"
"You dare say it wasn't fun, you rascal?!" the Emperor laughed.
"This is different… allowing all commoners to have multiple wives? This… the Divine Order will not like this," Sieg said as he grabbed the jug nearby, pouring himself red wine and then pouring some for the Emperor as well.
"A bunch of hypocritical donkeys, those priests! Don't I know who they really are? They don't know how to have fun at all. Besides, this empire of mine would do well with more hands."
Sieg nearly spat out the wine in his mouth upon hearing this. A cold sweat even broke out on his forehead.
The consequences if such blasphemous words were to spread were unimaginable. Fortunately, not even an ant below could hear what the Emperor and his close aide were talking about.
Sieg heaved a wary sigh. "My friend, it is not wise to push away the Divine Order. It has existed long before this Empire—any Empire. The Gods command the hearts of the people."
The Emperor fell into silence. Then he looked into the distance toward the rising sun, breathing in the fresh air as his eyes grew cloudy with nostalgia. "Years ago, when we set out on this journey at that spring festival, there were five of us."
Sieg lowered his gaze in sorrow, reminiscing about those old memories.
"Now only you remain," the Emperor said, with little regret and much pity in his voice.
Sieg grabbed the queen from the chessboard, twirling it in his hand, a faint mark vaguely visible on his wrist—one that Serin would recognize immediately.
"My desire for all the beautiful things and women this world can offer is nothing compared to what truly matters—for me, and for this Empire," the Emperor said with resolve as he stood up.
Sieg followed, leaving the chessboard behind as they began walking toward the east, watching the sun rise slowly, painting the sky with a golden hue.
While walking, Sieg suddenly stopped and looked at the Emperor seriously as the ring on his finger glowed faintly. A scroll appeared in his hand.
"There are new developments in the salt trade… and…" Sieg said as he handed the scroll to the Emperor.
The Emperor unrolled the scroll and began reading it carefully. A frown appeared on his face at one point, while a thoughtful expression appeared at another. He paused noticeably at one section, his expression conflicted, before returning to his usual composure.
"Interesting," the Emperor remarked simply, then rolled the scroll back up.
"Should the Secret Bureau intervene, Your Majesty?" Sieg asked casually.
The Emperor thought for a moment and said, "The supply line of salt should not be disrupted too much at this time. However, this is not worth intervening over for now. I have no use for weaklings."
Sieg opened his mouth as if to speak, then restrained himself. Sensing Sieg's hesitation, the Emperor knew exactly what was going through his mind.
The Emperor closed his eyes. A vivid image of a woman surfaced briefly before he snapped back, hesitation flashing across his face before hardening into a cold exterior.
"Lysa…" he muttered inwardly, a surge of pity souring his mood instantly.
Lysa Hainar was the only woman the Emperor had ever loved. He could never forget her—the first time he saw her during the Rebellion campaign, the memory of her touch, her beautiful face, her gentle voice. He had never been the same after meeting her. But in the end, it was a cruel pity.
A tinge of guilt and a storm of anger flooded the Emperor's heart, nearly devouring the patience he had maintained all these years.
Sieg felt the bloodlust radiating from the Emperor and stiffened, though he was not surprised. The Emperor was a man no one could fully understand. Sieg was one of the few who understood him, even if only a little.
"I owe her, but she is no longer alive. The past is long gone—it does not matter anymore. I have already done my part of the bargain with House Hainar," the Emperor said, gently brushing his fingers against the flower petals beside him.
"If her son can survive the ordeal and prove himself worthy, then perhaps I will keep him by my side. There is no need to care about dead weight," he added coldly.
Sieg's expression remained unreadable. In the entire Empire, he was the only one who could speak so casually with the Emperor. To nobles and commoners alike, Sieg was a figure of fear, curiosity, and apprehension. No one knew how close the Emperor and his subordinate truly were.
Even so, Sieg understood the limits of this bond between monarch and subordinate—between childhood friends. He had no intention of stirring the hornet's nest.
"As you wish, Your Majesty."
The two resumed walking toward the rising sun. After reaching another canopy surrounded by ponds, they crossed a bridge and halted.
"The sun shall rise once again over this mighty Empire. The land will be bathed in the glory of Augustus the First. The world shall know our might. How are the preparations going?" the Emperor asked.
Sieg smiled and unclenched his fist, revealing the queen in his palm. "Going well. The Northern Barbarians beyond the Sylvia Kingdom show signs of unification. Preparations have been made to send them assistance."
A dangerous glint flashed in the Emperor's eyes. "Good. Be generous. The people of Sylvia should know their incompetent rulers will not be able to protect them when the barbarian cavalry breaks through the Great Wall and unleashes hellfire upon them."
Sieg adjusted his monocle, his expression once again infuriatingly calm. Glancing at the seeds sprouting in the garden soil, he replied lethargically, "Of course. The mighty Solmarch Empire will not abandon its brotherly nation of Sylvia. Yes, yes—the people must know."
The two men shared a sly smile, gazing ahead with quiet determination as the sun finally rose over the horizon. Warm light bathed the Luna Garden—and the two figures beneath the canopy amid the glistening ponds.