“Are you sure of this choice?” Asked Julia with uncertainty.
The object of her question was but a little dress. It was made with pitch black lustrous silk and had spider lilies embroidered on its torso and skirt with a shimmering golden thread. The blooming spider lilies seemed to have lives of their own and swayed beguilingly when the sunlight hit on its enthralling bodies, while the design of the dress was both trendy and charming with a puffy skirt that reached the child’s knees. The material, embroidery, design, and everything else to name of it was without doubt a masterpiece, as a single glance was enough to steal the onlooker’s breath and soul away. Unfortunately, as magical as the dress was, nothing could change its actuality as a mourning attire.
“Yes. It is just right. I love it,” said the little girl while running her tiny hand through the body of the dress.
“It can’t be helped then,” said the older woman helplessly while knotting two delicate half buns on the child’s red head.
She tied a cluster of small bells with an intricate design and exquisite craftsmanship on each bun, making her appear lovelier than ever.
“Julia, have you passed my words to my elder brothers?”
“I have, m’lady. The young masters were quite shocked, but they agreed altogether. I believe the third young master is almost done with the preparation.”
“Good. Then let the show begin.”
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
The hall was awe-aspiring. Marbles and golds, velvets and silks, sculptures and armors, and the most stunning of all was the humongous painting of a man slaying a dragon on the high ceiling, vivid and heart-trembling. Beautiful yet majestic and opulent yet solemn. It was the grand hall of the imperial palace where the history and destiny of the nation got set in stone.
“Greetings to the sun of the empire. May the might of the dragon bless the empire,” a deafening chorus of salutes fell as a middle-aged man with light red eyes and blond hair resting beneath his crown ascended the high platform.
He sat alone on his throne, eyes lifelessly falling onto the mass of people whose tongues vowed subordination and respect, but bodies refused to kneel, and knees remained unbending. Despite the person being the noblest throughout the empire, his gaze, demeanor, and posture did not hold the authority, majesty, and supreme power of the ruler that one would expect of him. Indeed, he was the infamous puppet, an incompetent Crevaria, His Majesty, the emperor Merrick.
“Your majesty,” a heavy coarse voice called out, breaking the silence within the hall as if he was the host and lord of the place.
It was an elderly man in his early sixties. His head was already full of white, and his wrinkled face was mean and strict, while the eyes held clarity and sharpness like no other, and the body thin but proud. It was none other than imperial consort Aynat Shelon’s father, Efrem Shelon, the prime minister of the empire and a cruel man with ambition, power, shrewdness, and intelligence.
“Prime minister Shelon,” the emperor raised his hand towards the man, indicating his acknowledgment as well as permission to speak.
“Your majesty, this subject requests justice to be upheld regarding the incident that occurred at the imperial elder’s palace a few days ago. The house Callenso has since vowed its allegiance to the throne and its impartiality to the imperial succession. The tradition of not interfering with the imperial succession has been preserved for centuries. Unfortunately, it seems the long and arduous flow time has eroded the loyal spirit of the protectors of the north,” his gaze lingered on the father and son duo with silver hair and golden eyes.
Amaris stayed sat nonchalantly. Within the hoard of nobles that filled the massive hall, besides the emperor, only he, the grand duke, had a position and will to sit comfortably as he was at the moment. At his right stood the young heir, unperturbed and still like frigid well water. Both did not respond to the old man’s glib nor cared to return the meaningful gaze of the other, playing deaf and mute.
“Prime minister should be careful of his words,” the emperor showed a rare decisiveness and confrontational attitude, earning a cold glance from the imperial consort who stood at the lower left side of the high platform.
“Your majesty,” Aynat called, her voice chilly.
“Prince Reagan was heavily injured, and Princess Wyvern had received a fright that she is still bedridden. Not to mention the innocent lost lives of the imperial knights, who had been carrying out their duty. There is also the matter of shadow beasts fighting each other, their roars and clash of energies terrorizing the public. Which one of these is not a crime punishable with death?” The prime minister continued.
“So, the prime minister wishes to execute me?” The grand duke’s deep smooth voice fell. Amusement was evident in his tone.
His eyes never once graced the other, and his posture remained the same as before, languid and uninterested.
“How would I dare? The grand duke is the protector of the north, a hero of the people. However, it is an undeniable truth that the oath of the house Callenso has been violated, thus causing me to question your grace’s loyalty. This empire was founded by the slayer of the dragon, the blessed one of the heavens, and your ancestors named him the ruler of the lands and the master of their allegiance. Your grace, do tell, is it me, this old man, being unreasonable to question your sincerity to the oath?” Asked Efrem.
“Indeed, your words carry your wisdom, prime minister. I have heard enough of your righteous prelude, so do speak the words,” said the grand duke, his mesmerizing golden irises shielded behind the silver strands of his lowered eyelashes and his long slender fingers playing with the token ring of the northern ruler.
“Since ancient times, an eternal allegiance and devoted heart have always been signified by marriage. Prince Reagan is a young man who is both an aura wielder and an ice bender. His injuries this time, though critical, would become and remain a lesson and growth to him. However, Princess Wyvern is but a little girl, weak and delicate. As a subject, I believe marriage is the most profound way to convey adherence and sincerity, and as a grandfather, this old man’s heart aches for my granddaughter. Therefore, I suggest a betrothal between the Princess Wyvern of Crevaria and the young heir Ihan of House Callenso be carried out.”
The moment Efrem’s dragging aged voice concluded, the father and son duo jolted visibly, frightening the nearby nobles with their sudden movements. The grand duke rose from his seat and locked eyes with his son, their silent gazes exchanging a significant meaning. Their eyes held equal bewilderment, and their hearts skipped a beat almost at the same time. In unison, they turned their heads in a certain direction with perplexity. However, it was not at the delusional old man that their eyes were glued upon, but the tightly closed doors of the grand hall.
“It seems I got caught,” the little girl with blazing crimson locks chuckled at the white-haired old man whose dark red eyes squinted at her reprimanding.
“It’s not that you got caught, but you let them catch you,” corrected the imperial elder before shifting his gaze towards the imperial knights who stood guarding the closed doors of the imposing tall gate with flying and crouching dragons carved onto it.
As instantaneously as the peculiar movement of the two Callensos as well as the astonishing mention of betrothal sunk throughout the hall, the grandiose doors of the imperial grand hall were pushed open to reveal two imperial knights who were trembling like pitiful drenched leaves desperately clutching to its branch while withstanding a heavy current of storm. Obviously, their bodies were shaking in fear, but queerly enough, their cheeks held blooming blushes, and eyes shone with twinkles of reverence and thrill. They were no different from two snotty brats who had stumbled upon the hero of their dreams on one fateful day.
All heads turned in their direction as the high court, especially with the emperor and the grand duke present at the same time, was not something that could be interrupted, especially by two insignificant guard knights. As if sensing the incredulity and hostility from the esteemed personages, the two knights moved away from the entrance as if their butts were on fire.
A silence crushed the air before exploding into gasps and yelps. The neatly dressed old man entered the hall with a little girl in his arms. The man himself was old with white hair and a wrinkled face, but his tall body was robust with vitality, and his set of deep maroon eyes shone with ruthlessness just like how they had decades ago. In his arms, there sat a little girl with light pinkish-red eyes like rose rouges and untainted bouncy blonde locks like golden silk.
It was none other than imperial elder Ezekiel Crevaria and imperial princess Aine Crevaria. Be them as different in depths and hues, their eyes spoke of their mighty blue blood, and the aura permeating from the old man brought heart-palpating suffocation for the others. One by one, starting from the lowest ranked nobles who stood at the far end of the hall, at the same time, nearest to the hall entrance, dropped to their knees, heads bowing in bare submission. Eventually, only the emperor, the prime minister, the imperial consort, and the Callensos remained unbending.
“I see you have aged a lot, Efrem,” a deep rusty voice fell, causing the kneeling men and women to tremble.
“Your, your majesty,” Efrem, the previously haughty old man whose beard was nearly touching the sky, knelt down in a fluster.
Decades have passed, but the image of Ezekiel in his prime decapitating the previous prime minister right inside this hall was not something he could brush away with a breath. Not to mention the memory of the man sitting on a bloodied throne, awaiting the arrival of his dearest subjects as the cold corpse of the ruling emperor prior to him decorated the feet of the high platform still haunted many.
“Your majesty,” the imperial consort curtsied, following her father with an ashen complexion.
Aynat could not bring herself to lift her head or rise, despite being a member of the imperial family. Be it as humiliating as it may, she simply, dared not. As much as the incident three days ago shook her to the core, she had calmed down regardless as she remembered how the imperial elder loathed involving himself with politics. In fact, after abdicating the throne, Ezekiel has not attended the high court not even once, causing Aynat and Efrem to take the former emperor’s indulgence for granted despite the awareness of the other’s healthy state. However, reality spoke the opposite.
The imperial elder marched into the inner hall with long steady strides. Against everyone’s shallow held breaths, it was not only his steps that echoed on the pristine marble floor. As if to trot on their clotted hearts, a pair of dainty small shoes, which carried light and merry steps, followed closely behind the imperial elder, accompanied by two others. As the energetic skippy steps moved forward, a clear jingling sound of bells followed along in harmony.
There were none who did not wish to lift their heads to catch a glimpse of this outrageously courageous yet privileged entourage, especially the owner of the cheerful gait, following behind the imperial elder and Princess Aine. However, as much as the worms of curiosity were holing open their stomachs, none dared to lift their heads to the slightest.
“Imperial father,” the emperor rose from his seat, which Ezekiel stopped with a single raise of his hand.
As a father, the imperial elder understood his son’s temperament better than anyone else. Out of the two sons he had sired, the older one grew up to be greedy, lustful, and vicious to his drop of blood, whereas the younger one was submissive, gentle, and without a sharp edge. Both had longed for the same woman, tough one only had had a desire for flesh and a vain thirst for conquer while the other’s heart had solely beaten for her. Unexpectedly, with devotion, the weak and useless one got to obtain both the throne and the beauty. If not for his beloved, this son of his would have surely handed over his life to his brother.
“Emperor, this elder cannot bear your salute,” Ezekiel stated calmly.
Only after the emperor sat back did the imperial elder allow the kneeling subjects to rise.
“Rise,” his majestic voice commanded, and the sound of ruffling fabrics filled the hall.
Before everyone could muster their scattered souls back, a woman’s screeching shriek came from the inner hall, causing several elderly revered personas to collapse back onto the hard ground with hands clutching at their jumping hearts.
The shriek, which managed to sear everyone’s tense spines, came from none other than the noble imperial consort, who had both her hands on her lips while her azure eyes unblinkingly stared in the direction of the grand duke in horror. She seemed maddened with fury and craze. Witnessing her vile and uncultured behavior, many could not help their gazes swirling with distaste and derision.
What they had failed to expect was that when their gazes fell on the object of her horror, their souls would nearly leave their bodies as the image of a little girl nestled inside the grand duke’s firm embrace assaulted their eyes.
The child had flaming crimson locks that were redder than the reddest of roses, and her golden irises shone brighter than molten gold beneath the harsh rays of the sun. She was adorned in a black dress that caused her pale skin to radiate in pure ivory, and her pink lips were wide open to reveal pearly white teeth with sharp shapely canines as she beamed heartily at the grand duke. To many, she was the most beautiful creation to have ever blessed their eyes.
“Amaris,” blurted aloud the emperor, forgetting his usual way of addressing the grand duke in the presence of others.
“Your majesty,” the grand duke responded, his voice carrying a silent hint of a reminder.
Hearing the subtle exchange between the two, the little girl whispered to her father, earning a hesitant look from the other. After a second of hesitation, the grand duke heaved a helpless sigh before placing the child carefully back on the floor.
No one told me that raising a daughter for a day would be more exhausting than raising three sons for a decade, lamented the man.
Seraphina strode towards the prime minister, whose slanted eyes could not conceal the greed and calculation within them.
Old snake. All along, it was your idea to use me as a pawn. Just a moment ago, you asked for an engagement between my brother and your granddaughter. Yet, now, you stare at me like a hungry beast. But this hunger… was beyond the spectrum of avarice. After all, on the day of my father’s death, the day I was thrown into the imperial dungeon, it was this exact sickening face that welcomed me to tear at my flesh and feast on my misery. The endless nights of humiliation started with you, Efrem Shelon.
“Are you sure of this choice?” Asked Julia with uncertainty.
The object of her question was but a little dress. It was made with pitch black lustrous silk and had spider lilies embroidered on its torso and skirt with a shimmering golden thread. The blooming spider lilies seemed to have lives of their own and swayed beguilingly when the sunlight hit on its enthralling bodies, while the design of the dress was both trendy and charming with a puffy skirt that reached the child’s knees. The material, embroidery, design, and everything else to name of it was without doubt a masterpiece, as a single glance was enough to steal the onlooker’s breath and soul away. Unfortunately, as magical as the dress was, nothing could change its actuality as a mourning attire.
“Yes. It is just right. I love it,” said the little girl while running her tiny hand through the body of the dress.
“It can’t be helped then,” said the older woman helplessly while knotting two delicate half buns on the child’s red head.
She tied a cluster of small bells with an intricate design and exquisite craftsmanship on each bun, making her appear lovelier than ever.
“Julia, have you passed my words to my elder brothers?”
“I have, m’lady. The young masters were quite shocked, but they agreed altogether. I believe the third young master is almost done with the preparation.”
“Good. Then let the show begin.”
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
The hall was awe-aspiring. Marbles and golds, velvets and silks, sculptures and armors, and the most stunning of all was the humongous painting of a man slaying a dragon on the high ceiling, vivid and heart-trembling. Beautiful yet majestic and opulent yet solemn. It was the grand hall of the imperial palace where the history and destiny of the nation got set in stone.
“Greetings to the sun of the empire. May the might of the dragon bless the empire,” a deafening chorus of salutes fell as a middle-aged man with light red eyes and blond hair resting beneath his crown ascended the high platform.
He sat alone on his throne, eyes lifelessly falling onto the mass of people whose tongues vowed subordination and respect, but bodies refused to kneel, and knees remained unbending. Despite the person being the noblest throughout the empire, his gaze, demeanor, and posture did not hold the authority, majesty, and supreme power of the ruler that one would expect of him. Indeed, he was the infamous puppet, an incompetent Crevaria, His Majesty, the emperor Merrick.
“Your majesty,” a heavy coarse voice called out, breaking the silence within the hall as if he was the host and lord of the place.
It was an elderly man in his early sixties. His head was already full of white, and his wrinkled face was mean and strict, while the eyes held clarity and sharpness like no other, and the body thin but proud. It was none other than imperial consort Aynat Shelon’s father, Efrem Shelon, the prime minister of the empire and a cruel man with ambition, power, shrewdness, and intelligence.
“Prime minister Shelon,” the emperor raised his hand towards the man, indicating his acknowledgment as well as permission to speak.
“Your majesty, this subject requests justice to be upheld regarding the incident that occurred at the imperial elder’s palace a few days ago. The house Callenso has since vowed its allegiance to the throne and its impartiality to the imperial succession. The tradition of not interfering with the imperial succession has been preserved for centuries. Unfortunately, it seems the long and arduous flow time has eroded the loyal spirit of the protectors of the north,” his gaze lingered on the father and son duo with silver hair and golden eyes.
Amaris stayed sat nonchalantly. Within the hoard of nobles that filled the massive hall, besides the emperor, only he, the grand duke, had a position and will to sit comfortably as he was at the moment. At his right stood the young heir, unperturbed and still like frigid well water. Both did not respond to the old man’s glib nor cared to return the meaningful gaze of the other, playing deaf and mute.
“Prime minister should be careful of his words,” the emperor showed a rare decisiveness and confrontational attitude, earning a cold glance from the imperial consort who stood at the lower left side of the high platform.
“Your majesty,” Aynat called, her voice chilly.
“Prince Reagan was heavily injured, and Princess Wyvern had received a fright that she is still bedridden. Not to mention the innocent lost lives of the imperial knights, who had been carrying out their duty. There is also the matter of shadow beasts fighting each other, their roars and clash of energies terrorizing the public. Which one of these is not a crime punishable with death?” The prime minister continued.
“So, the prime minister wishes to execute me?” The grand duke’s deep smooth voice fell. Amusement was evident in his tone.
His eyes never once graced the other, and his posture remained the same as before, languid and uninterested.
“How would I dare? The grand duke is the protector of the north, a hero of the people. However, it is an undeniable truth that the oath of the house Callenso has been violated, thus causing me to question your grace’s loyalty. This empire was founded by the slayer of the dragon, the blessed one of the heavens, and your ancestors named him the ruler of the lands and the master of their allegiance. Your grace, do tell, is it me, this old man, being unreasonable to question your sincerity to the oath?” Asked Efrem.
“Indeed, your words carry your wisdom, prime minister. I have heard enough of your righteous prelude, so do speak the words,” said the grand duke, his mesmerizing golden irises shielded behind the silver strands of his lowered eyelashes and his long slender fingers playing with the token ring of the northern ruler.
“Since ancient times, an eternal allegiance and devoted heart have always been signified by marriage. Prince Reagan is a young man who is both an aura wielder and an ice bender. His injuries this time, though critical, would become and remain a lesson and growth to him. However, Princess Wyvern is but a little girl, weak and delicate. As a subject, I believe marriage is the most profound way to convey adherence and sincerity, and as a grandfather, this old man’s heart aches for my granddaughter. Therefore, I suggest a betrothal between the Princess Wyvern of Crevaria and the young heir Ihan of House Callenso be carried out.”
The moment Efrem’s dragging aged voice concluded, the father and son duo jolted visibly, frightening the nearby nobles with their sudden movements. The grand duke rose from his seat and locked eyes with his son, their silent gazes exchanging a significant meaning. Their eyes held equal bewilderment, and their hearts skipped a beat almost at the same time. In unison, they turned their heads in a certain direction with perplexity. However, it was not at the delusional old man that their eyes were glued upon, but the tightly closed doors of the grand hall.
“It seems I got caught,” the little girl with blazing crimson locks chuckled at the white-haired old man whose dark red eyes squinted at her reprimanding.
“It’s not that you got caught, but you let them catch you,” corrected the imperial elder before shifting his gaze towards the imperial knights who stood guarding the closed doors of the imposing tall gate with flying and crouching dragons carved onto it.
As instantaneously as the peculiar movement of the two Callensos as well as the astonishing mention of betrothal sunk throughout the hall, the grandiose doors of the imperial grand hall were pushed open to reveal two imperial knights who were trembling like pitiful drenched leaves desperately clutching to its branch while withstanding a heavy current of storm. Obviously, their bodies were shaking in fear, but queerly enough, their cheeks held blooming blushes, and eyes shone with twinkles of reverence and thrill. They were no different from two snotty brats who had stumbled upon the hero of their dreams on one fateful day.
All heads turned in their direction as the high court, especially with the emperor and the grand duke present at the same time, was not something that could be interrupted, especially by two insignificant guard knights. As if sensing the incredulity and hostility from the esteemed personages, the two knights moved away from the entrance as if their butts were on fire.
A silence crushed the air before exploding into gasps and yelps. The neatly dressed old man entered the hall with a little girl in his arms. The man himself was old with white hair and a wrinkled face, but his tall body was robust with vitality, and his set of deep maroon eyes shone with ruthlessness just like how they had decades ago. In his arms, there sat a little girl with light pinkish-red eyes like rose rouges and untainted bouncy blonde locks like golden silk.
It was none other than imperial elder Ezekiel Crevaria and imperial princess Aine Crevaria. Be them as different in depths and hues, their eyes spoke of their mighty blue blood, and the aura permeating from the old man brought heart-palpating suffocation for the others. One by one, starting from the lowest ranked nobles who stood at the far end of the hall, at the same time, nearest to the hall entrance, dropped to their knees, heads bowing in bare submission. Eventually, only the emperor, the prime minister, the imperial consort, and the Callensos remained unbending.
“I see you have aged a lot, Efrem,” a deep rusty voice fell, causing the kneeling men and women to tremble.
“Your, your majesty,” Efrem, the previously haughty old man whose beard was nearly touching the sky, knelt down in a fluster.
Decades have passed, but the image of Ezekiel in his prime decapitating the previous prime minister right inside this hall was not something he could brush away with a breath. Not to mention the memory of the man sitting on a bloodied throne, awaiting the arrival of his dearest subjects as the cold corpse of the ruling emperor prior to him decorated the feet of the high platform still haunted many.
“Your majesty,” the imperial consort curtsied, following her father with an ashen complexion.
Aynat could not bring herself to lift her head or rise, despite being a member of the imperial family. Be it as humiliating as it may, she simply, dared not. As much as the incident three days ago shook her to the core, she had calmed down regardless as she remembered how the imperial elder loathed involving himself with politics. In fact, after abdicating the throne, Ezekiel has not attended the high court not even once, causing Aynat and Efrem to take the former emperor’s indulgence for granted despite the awareness of the other’s healthy state. However, reality spoke the opposite.
The imperial elder marched into the inner hall with long steady strides. Against everyone’s shallow held breaths, it was not only his steps that echoed on the pristine marble floor. As if to trot on their clotted hearts, a pair of dainty small shoes, which carried light and merry steps, followed closely behind the imperial elder, accompanied by two others. As the energetic skippy steps moved forward, a clear jingling sound of bells followed along in harmony.
There were none who did not wish to lift their heads to catch a glimpse of this outrageously courageous yet privileged entourage, especially the owner of the cheerful gait, following behind the imperial elder and Princess Aine. However, as much as the worms of curiosity were holing open their stomachs, none dared to lift their heads to the slightest.
“Imperial father,” the emperor rose from his seat, which Ezekiel stopped with a single raise of his hand.
As a father, the imperial elder understood his son’s temperament better than anyone else. Out of the two sons he had sired, the older one grew up to be greedy, lustful, and vicious to his drop of blood, whereas the younger one was submissive, gentle, and without a sharp edge. Both had longed for the same woman, tough one only had had a desire for flesh and a vain thirst for conquer while the other’s heart had solely beaten for her. Unexpectedly, with devotion, the weak and useless one got to obtain both the throne and the beauty. If not for his beloved, this son of his would have surely handed over his life to his brother.
“Emperor, this elder cannot bear your salute,” Ezekiel stated calmly.
Only after the emperor sat back did the imperial elder allow the kneeling subjects to rise.
“Rise,” his majestic voice commanded, and the sound of ruffling fabrics filled the hall.
Before everyone could muster their scattered souls back, a woman’s screeching shriek came from the inner hall, causing several elderly revered personas to collapse back onto the hard ground with hands clutching at their jumping hearts.
The shriek, which managed to sear everyone’s tense spines, came from none other than the noble imperial consort, who had both her hands on her lips while her azure eyes unblinkingly stared in the direction of the grand duke in horror. She seemed maddened with fury and craze. Witnessing her vile and uncultured behavior, many could not help their gazes swirling with distaste and derision.
What they had failed to expect was that when their gazes fell on the object of her horror, their souls would nearly leave their bodies as the image of a little girl nestled inside the grand duke’s firm embrace assaulted their eyes.
The child had flaming crimson locks that were redder than the reddest of roses, and her golden irises shone brighter than molten gold beneath the harsh rays of the sun. She was adorned in a black dress that caused her pale skin to radiate in pure ivory, and her pink lips were wide open to reveal pearly white teeth with sharp shapely canines as she beamed heartily at the grand duke. To many, she was the most beautiful creation to have ever blessed their eyes.
“Amaris,” blurted aloud the emperor, forgetting his usual way of addressing the grand duke in the presence of others.
“Your majesty,” the grand duke responded, his voice carrying a silent hint of a reminder.
Hearing the subtle exchange between the two, the little girl whispered to her father, earning a hesitant look from the other. After a second of hesitation, the grand duke heaved a helpless sigh before placing the child carefully back on the floor.
No one told me that raising a daughter for a day would be more exhausting than raising three sons for a decade, lamented the man.
Seraphina strode towards the prime minister, whose slanted eyes could not conceal the greed and calculation within them.
Old snake. All along, it was your idea to use me as a pawn. Just a moment ago, you asked for an engagement between my brother and your granddaughter. Yet, now, you stare at me like a hungry beast. But this hunger… was beyond the spectrum of avarice. After all, on the day of my father’s death, the day I was thrown into the imperial dungeon, it was this exact sickening face that welcomed me to tear at my flesh and feast on my misery. The endless nights of humiliation started with you, Efrem Shelon.
