The vast imperial throne chamber was silent, save for the faint rustling of tapestries hanging from high walls. Empress Valeria sat regally on her throne, draped in royal finery that caught the flicker of the sunlight coming out through the windows.Beside her stood her son, Mesha, a boy of no more than ten winters, his young face filled with confusion. He shifted uneasily on his feet, glancing at his mother for some kind of reassurance.
Valeria caught his gaze, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. The message was clear. Mesha straightened immediately, fixing his gaze forward, his confusion masked by forced composure. The air in the chamber was thick with tension as they waited for the arrival of the one person Valeria both feared and sought to emulate—her father, the man who cast a long shadow over the entire empire.
