Seraphine's grand transformation into the continental invasion's headquarters had left many in awe. As the imperial forces, like a relentless wave, drowned entire armies and city defenses, apprehension grew within the surrounding territories. They questioned the ambitions of this burgeoning power.
Thus, to gauge the Empire's intentions, emissaries were dispatched. Prince Igor, a representative of the mighty Vladovian Dynasty, headed one such delegation. The Vladovian realm, notorious for its ruthless king, held in its grasp the strength of a Grand Mage. Their unchecked expansion had been halted once - not by rival kingdoms, but by the intervention of the Church of Light, the reasons for which remained shrouded in mystery.
Upon reaching Seraphine, Prince Igor, dressed in regal attire, was struck by the empire's advanced technology and the artistry of the soldier's armor. The dark ore bodysuits, featuring the emblematic phoenix housing a red arcane crystal, was a sight to behold. The imperial flags, representing a red phoenix set against a black background, were omnipresent. Soldiers, in vast numbers, went about their drills or undertook other tasks.
The city's transformation was evident. Magical tools aided the construction, and teleportation arrays funnelled resources. Gothic-style buildings replaced older structures. Citizens queued to obtain official paperwork, and after, collected rations. Dark-robed healers, identifiable by their red phoenix emblem, attended to everyone without discrimination.
As Prince Igor's carriage drew closer to the fortress entrance, he observed a group of around 100 soldiers. Their armor, detailed in silver filigree with a ruby-red arcane crystal at its heart, exuded an aura of mid-late stage adepts. A man, notably dressed in a black uniform accentuated with vibrant red details and silver adornments, approached the carriage. Prince Igor sensed his immense power.
Upon the carriage door opening, the man greeted, "Division General Atticus, protector of Seraphine. To whom do I owe the honor?"
Prince Igor, slightly puffed up, responded, "Prince Igor of the Vladovian Dynasty. I seek dialogue with your leaders."
In the magnificent grand hall of the castle, discussions of politics, trade, and alliances echoed, mingling with the soft melodies of a harp playing in the background. At the center stood Prime Minister Galius, a beacon of authority and power, discussing matters with delegates from various regions.
Prince Igor approached the Prime Minister, his footsteps echoing his determination. "Prime Minister Galius," Igor began, his eyes searching for truth, "Why this newfound aggression from the Empire?"
Galius, maintaining his stoic expression, replied in a measured tone, "Prince Igor, some kingdoms have erred in supporting rebels in Lysnadria, a core territory of the Eternal Empire. We simply ensure our dominion is respected."
Igor raised an eyebrow, skeptical of the information. "Rebels in Lysnadria? I find that hard to believe." But even as doubts lingered, he continued the conversation, masking his skepticism.
Just then, the entrance of a striking woman, Octavia, captivated the room. Her long blonde hair cascaded like a waterfall, and her big green eyes, full of mystery, scanned the hall. Her maid's attire contrasted starkly with her regal demeanor.
Unable to resist, Prince Igor excused himself and made his way to Octavia. "My lady," he began, his voice dripping with arrogance, "I am Prince Igor. A night with me could change your life. I could even offer you a place in my kingdom."
Octavia, well aware of Lucius' possessive nature towards her, saw an opportunity. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, hidden from the Prince's view. "Oh, Prince Igor," she replied sweetly, "Such a tempting offer."
Buoyed by her response, Igor, without a second thought, wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her close. The hall's chatter ceased abruptly, the silence deafening. The delegates exchanged alarmed glances. The woman in the Prince's arms wasn't just any woman; she was the Emperor's prized possession.
Sensing the gravity of the situation, Igor looked into Octavia's eyes, searching for answers. But the playful demeanor he had witnessed moments earlier had vanished. Octavia, feigning terror, screamed, "Help! This man wishes to harm me and insults the very honor of the Eternal Empire!"
Chaos erupted. The crimson-plumed guards, symbols of the Empire's might, rushed forward. Prince Igor, panic evident in his eyes, drew his blade in a desperate attempt to defend himself. He managed to strike one down, but before he could react further, two swords pierced his legs. A gut-wrenching scream escaped his lips as he crumpled to the ground.
As guards dragged the writhing prince away, the hall was left in stunned silence, the weight of the scandal ensuring it would be the talk of kingdoms far and wide.
In the aftermath of the incident, Octavia, maintaining her act of distress, expressed gratitude to those around her. Her teary eyes and shaky voice conveyed her supposed vulnerability. Yet, inside, she was smirking, believing she'd struck a blow against Lucius's reign. With her heart racing, she escaped the prying eyes of the court and rushed back to the sanctuary of her room.
Elsewhere, the Prime Minister promptly updated Emperor Lucius on the recent debacle. Lucius's face remained impassive, his emotions of joy masterfully concealed, with the slight glint of feigned anger in his eyes.
"Prepare the armies," Lucius commanded in a low, measured tone. "Marshal Tryn will lead the offensive once our forces reach the Dynasty's borders. As for Prince Igor, I want him executed publicly. Let it be a message."
Nodding in understanding, the Prime Minister made his exit to oversee the Emperor's directives. Lucius, wasting no time, gestured in the air, manipulating the space around him, and within moments, he stood at the threshold of Octavia's chambers.
She was taken aback by his sudden appearance, her internal triumph momentarily making her forget the man she was dealing with. Lucius's laugh, low and mocking, echoed in the room. "My dear Octavia," he began, circling her, "You've been most helpful tonight. Your little drama provided the ideal pretext for my expansion."
Realization dawned on her, and Octavia's face lost its color. The impact of her actions, far from destabilizing Lucius, had only played into his grand scheme.
Lucius leaned in, his voice dripping with malicious amusement. "Such a naughty maid you've been, causing such a ruckus at the court. There are consequences for such actions." And with that, he advanced on her.
The walls of Octavia's room bore silent witness to her plight, her screams a haunting testament to Lucius's unyielding dominance and cruelty.