Quinn's crimson eyes narrowed, the air around him growing so heavy that it seemed the world itself paused in deference—or fear. Unseen yet oppressive, a palpable force radiated from him, as though his very being had shifted the fabric of reality. Those who knew him would recognize this stillness for what it was: the eye of a storm.
How dare he?
The thought lashed through Quinn's mind, sharp as a blade and twice as unforgiving. His fingers gripped the armrests of his chair, nails biting into the polished wood. He'd tolerated much from Arthur Nightingale—perhaps too much. For years, he'd dismissed the boy's rising influence as a fleeting nuisance, a mere ember that could be snuffed out at his leisure.
But now, that ember had grown into a wildfire, consuming all in its path. Arthur hadn't just amassed power; he'd wielded it, aimed it, and struck directly at Quinn.
And Quinn felt the insult as keenly as a blade.
The holographic reports on his desk remained unchanged, their glowing text mocking him with cold precision. Noctalis, the guild Arthur had built from the ground up, was no longer just a dominant force. It was a monolith, sitting atop the Twelve Great Guilds like a king lording over his court. The Empty Throne—a symbol of equality among the guilds—had been claimed, its symbolism shattered as Arthur claimed the title of Guild Grandmaster.
Quinn had allowed that. He'd turned a blind eye, content to let the boy have his petty victories. After all, Arthur's ambition was impressive but predictable, his influence constrained by the walls of his guild. Or so Quinn had thought.
But this? This was an overreach.
Arthur's move to block the engagement between Elara Astoria and Valerian Slatemark wasn't just audacious; it was a declaration of war. Publicly, no less. He hadn't whispered his opposition in quiet halls; he'd shattered Quinn's carefully laid plans in full view of the world. The engagement had been a masterstroke, designed to bind Archduke Astoria to the Imperial family and solidify Quinn's control. And now it was gone, unraveled by a single stroke of Arthur's relentless defiance.
Quinn inhaled deeply, letting the air fill his lungs, then exhaled slowly, deliberately. Anger would accomplish nothing now. It would serve no purpose but to cloud his judgment. And judgment—cold, calculating judgment—was what this required.
Arthur wasn't simply a man anymore. He had become an institution, a force unto himself. To move against him would be to move against an empire within an empire.
The boy had stacked the deck in his favor brilliantly, Quinn would give him that. As the head of Noctalis, Arthur commanded not just the most powerful guild but a network of subordinate guilds that spanned the empire and beyond. His near-monopoly on aetherite, the miracle resource that powered entire industries, made him indispensable. And his political connections—oh, those connections—rendered him untouchable. Engaged to three princesses, including Quinn's own daughter Cecilia, Arthur had woven himself into the very fabric of power.
And then there were his mentors.
The Martial King. Alastor Creighton. Mo Zenith. Names that echoed through the annals of history, men who had shaped the world itself. Arthur carried their legacies like banners, each one a shield against any who might dare challenge him.
Quinn clenched his jaw, his thoughts spiraling with cold precision. He'd underestimated the boy. That was his error. Arthur wasn't simply ambitious; he was shrewd, relentless, and infuriatingly good at leveraging every advantage.
Even Quinn's position as the Emperor was no longer as secure as it once was. If Arthur ascended to Radiant-rank—and Quinn had no doubt he would—the balance of power would shift irreparably. Arthur would not just be untouchable; he would be unstoppable.
Quinn stood, the chair creaking softly behind him as he walked to the window. The city of Avalon stretched out before him, its towers gleaming in the light of the setting sun. It was a view that should have brought him satisfaction, but now it only served as a reminder of what was at stake.
"Noctalis," he murmured, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. It wasn't just a guild anymore. It was a kingdom—a kingdom with Arthur Nightingale as its king.
Quinn's hand tightened into a fist at his side. He wasn't a man prone to recklessness, but there were moments when even the calmest seas hid tempests beneath their surface. He wouldn't act blindly. But he would act.
Arthur had made his move, and it had been brilliant. But Quinn was no ordinary opponent. He was a predator who had ruled the empire for decades, and he understood one truth better than any: even the most unassailable fortresses had weaknesses. And Arthur's empire, no matter how carefully constructed, would be no exception.
Quinn's crimson eyes glinted as a cold smile touched his lips. "So, you've chosen to play king, Arthur," he said softly. "Let's see how well you wear the crown."
The game had changed.
And Quinn was a master of the board.
__________________________________________________________________________________
The announcement of my engagement to Elara Astoria sent ripples through the world, the news spreading like wildfire across every corner of the Central Continent and beyond. Headlines painted me as a man of insatiable ambition: "Arthur Nightingale: Four Fiancees, One Throne," they said. It wasn't untrue, though the reality was far more nuanced.
The engagement with Elara was a carefully crafted move, a contract agreement cloaked in the guise of romance. Only those closest to me knew the truth. For the rest of the world, the narrative was clear: the Guild Grandmaster, the man who sat upon the Empty Throne of the Twelve Great Guilds, was now bound to yet another figure of immense prestige. Elara Astoria, the angelic daughter of Archduke Leopold Astoria, had joined the fold.
And yet, none of the power I wielded—my monopoly over aetherite, the vast army of adventurers at my command, the alliances forged through fire and strategy—could prepare me for the man sitting across from me now.
Leopold Astoria, the Radiant Lion.
The sole Archduke of the Slatemark Empire, he was a man of indomitable presence. Radiant-rank, one of only three in the Empire, he was a force that transcended the boundaries of human comprehension. His strength was palpable, a quiet storm that loomed even when he simply sipped his tea.
And here I was, spinning a tale to placate him.
"When did it start?" Leopold's voice was calm, his amber eyes unwavering as they locked onto mine. His tone held no anger, no disapproval, but that made it all the more unnerving. It was the voice of a man who had no need for theatrics—who could level empires with a word, a thought, a flick of his wrist.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I began the story Elara and I had prepared. She had reluctantly agreed to deceive her father, knowing full well how much he adored her. That adoration was both a blessing and a curse, for it meant he would scrutinize every detail of our supposed romance.
"We began texting," I said, my voice even, though my heart beat a little faster.
Leopold's gaze didn't waver. He leaned back slightly, the fine porcelain cup in his hand seeming almost comically fragile against the sheer presence he exuded.
I continued, weaving a tale of chance meetings and shared interests. How Elara's curiosity about the Guild Grandmaster had led to tentative conversations. How our exchanges had grown over time, transforming into something deeper. I spoke of laughter shared over mundane topics, of trust built on a foundation of mutual respect.
Leopold listened, his expression inscrutable, but every so often he would nod, a small gesture that sent a wave of relief through me.
"And then?" he prompted, his voice betraying no emotion.
"And then," I said, allowing a faint smile to touch my lips, "I realized I couldn't imagine my future without her."
It was a line we'd carefully rehearsed, one that was both romantic and vague enough to avoid scrutiny. And yet, as I said it, I felt the weight of the lie settle on my shoulders. Elara was an extraordinary woman, kind and vibrant, but this wasn't about love. It was about preventing a future drenched in blood.
Leopold studied me for a moment longer, the silence stretching like a taut bowstring. Then, he set his cup down on the table with deliberate care, the faint clink of porcelain on wood sounding far louder than it should have.
"My daughter is my greatest treasure," he said finally, his tone measured but carrying an undeniable weight. "She is kind, intelligent, and utterly unprepared for the wolves that roam this world."
I nodded, sensing the direction of his words. "I understand, my lord. That is why I will protect her, with everything I have."
Leopold's gaze sharpened, and for a moment, it felt as though the air itself held its breath. "Words are easy, Arthur Nightingale. But protection is not a matter of promises. It is a matter of strength."
I met his gaze, refusing to flinch. "I have strength, my lord. Enough to ensure no harm comes to her."
Leopold leaned forward slightly, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Strength is not simply power. It is not artifacts or armies or clever words. Strength is the will to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders and still stand tall. Do you have that will, Arthur?"
His words hit me like a hammer, but I didn't falter. "I do."
The silence that followed was deafening. Then, slowly, Leopold leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Good. Because if you fail her, no amount of strength will save you from me."
The room seemed to exhale as he spoke those final words, the tension dissipating like mist under the morning sun.
"I would expect nothing less," I said, bowing my head in acknowledgment.
Leopold regarded me for a moment longer, then picked up his tea once more. "Then let us hope, Arthur, that your actions live up to your words."
As I left the room, my mind whirred with the weight of what had just transpired. Leopold's approval—tentative though it may be—was a small victory, but the road ahead remained treacherous.
For all my power, for all my plans, one truth remained clear: this game was far from over.