Three days of journeying bring the Imperial convoy to the immense, formidable borders of the Great Empire. Mikhail, seated within the familiar opulence of his carriage, maintains a posture of regal ease, a slight, confident smile fixed on his face. Internally, however, a wave of profound anxiety tightens around him. Shit. Eldrath was fine because people there didn't know me personally, but here, I have to act with caution.
This is the crucible. In Eldrath, he was an alien presence; here, he's the heir whose every tic and habit is intimately known. Any deviation from the original Mikhail's personality could be fatal, leading to dangerous suspicions within a palace built on espionage. So what was Mikhail's personality? He recalls the game lore. The pre-fall Mikhail was characterized by a veneer of calm, confident, cold, and indifferent arrogance—a princely mask of boredom and superiority. Ok, let's fucking do this. At least till now I've managed to fool Hilowat and other knights, but inside the palace will be the real test.
As they advance deeper from the outskirts, the difference between the Empire and Eldrath is staggering. The Empire is a true Imperium, radiating a wealth and power that dwarfs the Eastern Kingdom. Everything is on a grander, European-inspired scale: massive stone structures, meticulously planned avenues, and, dominating the city center, the spire of the Holy Church of Solis Dei. And then, the palace. Built of brilliant white marble, it's a colossal structure that speaks of unchallenged dominion.
His carriage approaches a specific juncture where a small crowd of ministers and nobles has gathered, clearly awaiting his arrival for a mandatory, public welcome.
"Vice Commander," Mikhail calls out, his voice sharp and dismissive.
Hilowat immediately rides closer to the window, his form a picture of alertness. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"Tell those cheap nobles to run away," Mikhail commands, affecting the perfect blend of bored arrogance and cold disregard that defined the original Prince. "I'm not in the mood to fake my smile for them. Tell them to come meet me later today at the banquet."
"Understood, Your Majesty," Hilowat affirms, not questioning the command, and rides ahead to disperse the unwelcome welcoming committee. The command is instantly obeyed, reinforcing Mikhail's established dominance.
The carriage finally rolls to an absolute halt directly in front of the palace's majestic entrance. Hilowat opens the door. Mikhail steps out first, followed immediately by Miyako, who moves with the silent, disciplined grace of his new shadow.
They're greeted by a precise, silent phalanx of royal maids, servants, and palace knights. In perfect sync, they drop into a deep bow. "Welcome back, Crown Prince. May the Empire be with you forever." Mikhail gives a cool, brief sweep of his hand in acknowledgment and walks past them, Miyako trailing two steps behind him, crossing the magnificent threshold of the white marble palace.
He's then immediately greeted by a smiling, slightly more familiar figure: Maria, the fox demi-human head maid. She performs a respectful, practiced bow, her expression radiating warmth and familiarity.
Mikhail's internal alarm bells go off instantly. Oh oh, I know this one. Maria isn't just a head maid—she's the silent linchpin of the Empire's secret power. Head maid Maria... why do you think, in the game, the Empire was the strongest of all other factions? The dark truth is that the Empire maintains its superiority by using generations of demi-humans as a covert network of servants and spies. Maria is the nexus of this power—the gentle head maid on the surface, but in reality, the one who trains and commands all the palace servants, turning them into elite spies and assassins. And I think from the game that she's very close to Mikhail.
Maria, her smile never wavering, greets him with a tone of intimate affection. "My dear young lord, welcome back."
Mikhail forces himself to meet her gaze, drawing upon the coldest confidence the original Prince possessed. "Good to be back, Maria."
He executes the next move quickly, introducing his controversial acquisition. He turns slightly and gestures toward Miyako. "And she is..."
Maria, displaying flawless court etiquette, glides toward Miyako. Her eyes assess the new fiancée with a sharp, professional intensity that belies her warm exterior. "Oh, so she's the young mistress? Wow, young lord. You have an eye for beauty. She's absolutely beautiful."
"Yeah, I know, Maria," Mikhail replies, using the tone of slightly bored pride the original Mikhail would have employed. "And take care of her for now. Prepare her for the banquet." He's establishing Miyako's official status and placing her under the palace's—and Maria's—jurisdiction.
Mikhail is about to turn and leave, eager to escape the scrutiny of the Head Maid, when Maria's voice stops him instantly. "Young lord."
Shit, did I get caught? What did I miss?
Mikhail turns back, his face a perfectly impassive mask. "Yes, Maria."
Maria, completely composed, offers a final, seemingly innocuous piece of information. "Before I forget. The Emperor asked me to tell you that he wishes to see you. As soon as possible."
The highest test, the ultimate audience, is waiting. Mikhail merely nods, the sudden summons adding a new layer of complexity to his carefully crafted schedule. Without another word to Maria, he turns and begins walking, taking measured, firm strides straight toward the inner chambers, bracing himself to finally meet the Emperor—the man who holds the true power, and the father whose judgment will determine if he can survive the day.