The palace, a majestic structure with tiled roofs and stone walls, stood serene in the morning light. Two palace guards, clad in traditional attire- black pants, white shirts and crimson sashes, stood at attention before the entrance. Their faces were expressionless, their eyes fixed on some distant point. Beyond them in the palace courtyard, a group of palace fighters getting trained in the art of swordsmanship, they wore similar attire, their movements fluid and synchronized as they practiced their forms their sword slashing in the morning light. Their faces were set in fierce concentration, their eyes burning with a fierce inner fire.
Two guards, standing apart from the others, oversaw the training with keen eyes. They were the veteran warriors, their faces etched with scars and experience. One, a towering figure with a thick beard, barked orders and criticism, pushing the trainees to their limits. The other, a lean, agile man with shaved head, demonstrated techniques with fluid precision, his sword slicing through the air with deadly grace. Tristan was paired with a strong fighter like him, the fighter movement was stiff, his sword strikes hesitant, as they both trained their blades clashed, and Tristan caught a glimpse of the fighter's neck. A small, intricate mark pulsed with a malevolent energy, eerily similar to the symbol on the girl's neck.
Tristan mind raced with connections, but he kept his thoughts hidden. He decided to observe the fighter, to see if he would misbehave or reveal any signs of dark influence. As they continued training, Tristan kept a close eye on the fighter searching for any clues.
As the training concluded, the palace guards dispersed to their various posts, leaving Tristan to ponder the mysterious symbol. Meanwhile, in another part of the palace, the king made his way to the grand chamber, flanked by his loyal inoc and royal advisers. The air was thick with anticipation as courtiers and guards bowed deeply, their hands clasped together in respect.
The king entourage was a spectacle of grandeur, with representatives from each ministry and department trailing behind him. The chamberlain resplendent in his ornate robes, announced the king's arrival, his voice booming through the hall.
He ascended the dais, his eyes surveying the gathering before him. With a subtle nod, he signaled the start of the day's proceeding.
Before him, the royal advisers stood in a semi -circle, their vibrant attire a testament to their respective roles. The orange-robed advisers, led by the venerable Lord Adrin, stood to the king's right, their faces grave with concern, they whispered among themselves, discussing the matters of state.
To the king's left stood the purple-clad welfare advisers, led Lord Joseon their spoke in hushed tones, their face etched with empathy.
Behind them, the blue-robed scholars and scribes stood ready, their eyes fixed on the king, awaiting his command to record the day's decrees and decision.
As the king listened intently, the chamberlain, resplendent in his ornate robes, stepped forward to address the gathering.
''His Majesty has summoned us today to discuss the growing concerns of the eastern provinces. Lord Adrin, please proceed''.
Lord Adrin bowed deeply, his orange robes rustling before beginning his report. The king's eyes narrowed, his mind already racing with solutions to the challenges facing his kingdom.
To the king's right, Tristan stood tall, his face a mask of seriousness. His eyes scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the royal advisers before returning to the king. His hand rested on the hilt of sword.
As lord Adrin spoke, Tristan's expression remained grave his eyes narrowing as he listened to the report, he continued to scan the room, his gaze lingering on each face. He noticed a faint mark on the neck of one of the Welfare advisers Lord Joseon assistant, Lord Ravenswood. the mark was similar to the one he saw on the young guard and the mysterious girl.
Lord Ravenswood, seemingly aware of Tristan gaze, adjusted his collar trying to cover the mark. But Tristan eyes had already seen it. He felt surge of suspicion, his mind racing with possibilities. What could this mark mean? Tristan grip on his sword hilt tightened, his senses on high alert.
He continued to observe him, noticing his way he avoided eye contact, his movements slightly stiff.
The king's voice brought Tristan back to present. As the meeting adjourned, the Royal advisers and titles began to argue their voices raising in disagreement. The king's patience wore thin, and he finally slammed his fist on the armrest, silencing the room.
''Enough!'' he thundered, ''we will settle this matter another time''.
With that the meeting ended, and the king rose from his throne, his entourage following him out , Tristan still deep in thought about the mysterious mark, trailed behind.
On their way to the king chamber, the Queen emerged from her chamber, resplendent in a gown of silk and gold. Her hair a rich auburn, her ladies -in-waiting followed closely, their hands clasped together in respect.
''where are you off to my Majesty?'' the Queen asked her voice melodious.
''I have matters to attend to''. The king replied curtly, his expression stern.
The Queen's eyes narrowed, her lips pursing. ''I wish to speak with you, my Majesty''.
The king's expression turned cold. ''I have no time for it. Not now''.
With that he turned and matched away, leaving the Queen standing alone, her face etched with disappointment and hurt. Her ladies-in-waiting fluttered around her, trying to comfort her as she turned to her chamber, her head held high.
As the Queen retreated to her chamber, a surprise arrival stirred the palace. Tristan, standing guard , eyed a woman approaching the entrance. She wore a gown of crimson silk, adorned with gold embroidery, and her raven hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall. Two guards flanked her, their faces expressionless, while a lady-in-waiting trailed behind her.
''Who are you?'' Tristan asked his hand on the hilt of his sword.
The woman eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a hint of a smile. ''I am Queen Lyra, the king first wife''.
Tristan grip on his sword tightened, his mind racing with questions, the king had mourned her passing, and the second queen had taken her place.
Before he could respond the king voice echoed from within his chamber. ''let her pass, Tristan ''.
Queen Lyra swept pass Tristan, her gown rustling and entered the chamber. Tristan watched her go, his mind reeling with implications.
Inside the king private chamber, surrounded by opulent furnishings. A book lay open on a nearby table, its pages yellowed with age. A steaming cup of green tea sat beside it, filling the air with its soothing aroma. The king's eye fixed on the book, his brow furrowed in concern.
Queen Lyra entered, her presence commanding attention she approached the king her movement graceful, and sat in front of him.
The king eye narrowed ''who are you?'' you dare to impersonate my deceased wife?''
Queen Lyra smiled faltered, I am Queen Lyra, your first wife her eyes flashed with determination. ''I assure you I am who I claim to be, but I shall leave you with this warning. Beware the palace's treacherous waters. Watch your steps, for not everyone is as they seem.
With that, she stood up, her movements graceful. Her followers, who had been waiting outside, entered the room, their faces expressionless. They flanked Queen Lyra, forming a protective escort.
As she walked away Tristan bowed deeply in respect. ''Your Highness'' he whispered his eyes, fixed on the floor.
Queen Lyra's gaze flicked to Tristan a hint of approval in her eyes. She nodded, and her followers closed in around her, forming a protective circle as they exited the palace.
The king's voice echoed through the palace, summoning Tristan to his chambers. Tristan entered, bowing deeply.
''Tristan, I have a task for you''. The king said, his eyes narrowing. ''I want you to watch the woman who claims to be my first wife. Follow her everywhere she goes, and report back to me. I want to know her every move, and her every word''.
Tristan nodded, his expression serious. ''yes, my king''.
''Go now, Tristan''. The king ordered ''And do not fail me''.
As the night wore on, the palace maid dressed the lady assigned to the king in a stunning white gown, intricately embroidered with gold thread. The maid styled her hair in an elegant updo, adorned with delicate pearls, and left the room to allow the king and lady to meet in private. But just as the king was approaching his chamber, he noticed a figure in black clothes slipping into the room ahead of him. The figure's eyes gleamed with an otherworldly energy, and his features seemed chiseled from the shadows themselves. He was handsome, yet demonic, and the king's instincts screamed warning.
As the king watched from the shadows, the figure in black approached the lady, his hand reaching out to touch her neck. The lady's eyes fluttered closed, and she swayed, as if entranced. The king's anger flared, and he stepped forward, entering the room to confront the intruder.
But to his surprise, he found himself face to face with Xorvath, the demon lord, the room was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from candles that flickered with an eerie glow. The lady lay unconscious on the floor, and Xorvath eyes gleamed with malevolence.
''Welcome, your Majesty'' Xorvath said, his voice dripping with malice. '' I see you're still clinging to your throne, but it's time for a new ruler to take the reins''.
Xorvath eyes gleamed with malevolence as he licked his hand, the blood staining his lips crimson.
''Ah, the sweet taste of innocence, '' he purred, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure.
The king's eyes widened in horror, his mind reeling with the sight before him. '' you monster!'' he spat, his hand on the hilt of his sword. ''you'II pay for this treachery!''.
Xorvath chuckled, the sound sending shivers down the king's spine. Treachery? Ah, no, your Majesty. This is merely the beginning of a new era and you…... are no longer needed''.
The king's face twisted with rage and fear, his eyes darting to the lady's lifeless body. ''You'II never rule this kingdom!'' he snarled, drawing his sword.
Xorvath grin grew wider, his eyes flashing with excitement. ''oh, but I already do,'' he whispered, his voice dripping with demonic energy. ''And soon, I'II make sure you join your precious lady'' he laughs hard.
Xorvath sat on his throne, his eyes gleaming with malevolence as he addressed the king. ''you see, this throne has been mine for centuries. And now, its time for me to reclaim it''.
The king snarled, his sword trembling with rage. ''You'II never take this throne from me, Xorvath. I''II die before I let you rule''.
Xorvath chuckled, his voice dripping with contempt. ''Ah, but you will die, and soon for I have the power of the darkness on my side''.
The king charged forward, his sword flashing in the candlelight, but Xorvath merely raised a hand, and the king was tied up with a tiny robe.
Xorvath stood from his throne and began to circle the king, his long black robes crawling across the ground like living shadows. ''You see I have been waiting for this moment and now its time for me to take what's mine.
The king struggled against the force holding him in place, but Xorvath merely laughed his eyes flashing with triumph. ''You can't escape, your majesty. And soon, you'II be nothing but a footnote in the history of books''.
Xorvath robes seemed to writhe and twist around him, like living darkness. ''And for your precious throne…... it will be mine. And you will never again sit upon it.''
Xorvath eyes gleamed as he turned back to the king. ''And, I have more secret to reveal to you. Something that will make your blood boil with rage''.
The king's eye narrowed, his grip on his sword tightening. ''What is it, you monster?!''.
Xorvath move closer to him. ''your precious Queen Lyra, the one you thought was dead…... she's not, Queen Dowager used black magic to curse her, making everyone believe she was dead.
The king's face twisted in shock and rage. ''No...it can't be.
Xorvath grin grew wider as he leaned in, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. ''And, your Majesty, mark this day. The night of the blue moon, when the shadows are longest and the darkness is most potent. That is when I will come for the throne, and nothing will stop me from claiming it''.
The king's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with the implications. ''You'II never take this throne, I make sue of it''.
Xorvath chuckled, his eyes glinting with malevolence. ''we see about that, your Majesty. The night of the blood moon is approaching…. And soon, all will bow to my power. With that, Xorvath turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving the king to ponder the demon lord's ominous words.
The king eyes lingered on the spot where Xorvath had vanished, his mind reeling with the demon lord's words. He shook his head clearing his thoughts, and called out to the guards stationed outside his chambers.
''Guards! Enter!''.
The door swung open two burly guards, clad in the palace livery, stepped inside. The faces were expressionless, but their eyes betrayed a hint of curiosity.
''Take the lady's away, his voice firms but laced with a hint of sorrow. And remember what happens within these palace walls stay within these walls.''
The guards nodded, their faces impassive, and moved to lift the lady's lifeless body. They carried out of the chambers, their footsteps echoing through the silent corridors.
The king watched them go, his heart heavy with grief and his mind racing with the implications of Xorvath words. He turned to the vice chancellor, who had entered the room unnoticed.
''see to it that the cups and any other items touched by the demon lord are burned''. I will not have his darkness spreading through my place''.
The vice chancellor bowed, his eyes grave with concern. ''As you wish, your Majesty. I will see to it personally''.
Together they watched as the guards carried the lady's body away.