The Emperor's heart skipped, just for a fraction of a second, an involuntary reaction that made his arteries feel as if they were clogging up. The brief tension in his chest quickly passed as his mind caught up, reminding him who he was dealing with. This boy was clever—far too clever for his age—but he had no power to truly shake him. Not yet, at least.
"Oh?" the Emperor asked, his voice carefully composed, masking the brief flicker of unease that had seized him.
"Yes," Kuzan replied, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "But without knowing your background fully, I'd only be guessing the reason why. So tell me, why would the Emperor of millions, who fought bloody wars and united a fractured kingdom, want to throw away his life's work and meet his end?"
The question hung in the air, sharp as a blade. It was clear that Kuzan wasn't just making idle conversation—he had struck at something deeply personal. The Emperor didn't react outwardly, but inside, he felt the weight of the boy's words. Kuzan had seen through him, as if peeling back the layers of royal authority to reveal the man beneath.
Kuzan's smirk grew. "I've read about you, you know," he said, his tone light but knowing. "The royal library holds more than enough books on your tactics, your reign, and of course, that rather delightful little moniker you earned."
The Emperor's eyes flickered with a spark of recognition. "You mean The Emperor of War."
"That's the one." Kuzan's smile widened slightly as he spoke the title, his tone hinting at mock admiration. "It's buried deep in the annals of history, but I found it."
The Emperor turned his gaze to the fire, its crackling embers casting long shadows across the room. "Then you know I didn't earn that name through peace."
"Well, yes," Kuzan said, his voice softening slightly, "but war and conquest are straightforward, aren't they? Power, tactics, bloodshed. It's all very… clean, in its own way. But family…" He paused, his eyes gleaming with something the Emperor couldn't quite place. "Family's always a difficult topic to offload, isn't it?"
The Emperor's eyes shifted back to Kuzan, narrowing. There was a subtle tension building between them, a game of wits where every word was a move on the board. "Is it now?" he asked, his voice low, guarded.
Kuzan's smile didn't waver, but he said nothing. He let the silence stretch out, offering the Emperor nothing. And yet, for the Emperor, it was plenty. The boy had given him a thread to pull on, a way to glimpse the truth lurking behind those sharp, perceptive eyes. But every time the Emperor thought he understood, Kuzan's mystery deepened, like trying to grasp smoke.
The Emperor's fingers tightened slightly on the armrests of his chair. For a man who had spent his life reading people, predicting their moves before they even realized they were making them, this was unnerving. The more he learned about Kuzan, the more contradictions he uncovered.
"I suppose you think you know what it is I want," the Emperor said, his tone deliberate.
Kuzan tilted his head slightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I have my guesses."
"Do you?"
"Sure. You've fought wars, united kingdoms, worn the crown of a man who controls the fate of millions. You've built a legacy that will be spoken of for generations. But…" Kuzan's voice grew quieter, his gaze sharper. "I wonder if that's enough for you."
The Emperor felt a surge of irritation rising within him. "Enough?" he repeated, his voice edged with a quiet warning.
Kuzan's expression remained unbothered, his smile still dancing at the corners of his lips. "You've achieved everything most men would ever dream of. And yet, here you sit, across from me, contemplating something far more… dangerous."
"Dangerous?"
"Yes." Kuzan leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving the Emperor's. "You want something more. Power isn't enough anymore, is it? You've conquered this nation, but now you're seeking something beyond that, aren't yoy?
The Emperor's jaw tightened imperceptibly. Kuzan's words cut close to a truth he hadn't voiced to anyone. A truth he hadn't even admitted to himself. The boy was too sharp, too quick to unearth things that should have remained buried.
"And what would you know about that, boy?" The Emperor's voice was soft, almost dangerous now.
"I know that power has a way of hollowing out those who seek it for too long," Kuzan said, his tone light but unyielding. "You're at the top, but you're restless. It's in your eyes, in the way you talk. You've reached the peak, and now you're looking for what's left. But tell me, Your Majesty," Kuzan's eyes gleamed with a challenge, "are you ready to face what comes next?"
The Emperor sat back, his gaze still locked on Kuzan, his thoughts swirling in a storm of conflicting emotions. He knew that this boy was dangerous—not just for his ambition, but for his ability to see into places that even the Emperor had tried to avoid.
For the first time in a long while, the Emperor felt uncertain. And that, more than anything, was unsettling.
Kuzan, sensing the turmoil in the Emperor's mind, leaned back with a grin that was anything but comforting. "You're not alone, you know," he said softly. "Even emperors need to chase something."
And with that, the boy fell silent, leaving the Emperor to his thoughts, the weight of their conversation pressing down on him like a storm cloud threatening to break.
The Emperor's face hardened, his eyes cast downward as he spoke, his voice low, but filled with a resolute grief.
"Fine," he began, as if resigning himself to tell the tale.
"My wife... she died in this very castle, in front of Azlueth. After all those wars I fought to make the lives of my people better," his hand clenched into a tight fist, his knuckles turning white, "my love was taken from me."
He let out a heavy sigh, one that seemed to carry the weight of years of unresolved anguish. "It took me a long time to grieve. And from that moment on, Azlueth changed. She only acted like a normal girl when her mother was alive—under her warmth." His voice wavered slightly, but he pushed through it. "I took that away from her. I never gave the younger two a chance to feel that warmth, to know her embrace."
The Emperor's confession hung in the air, thick with emotion. "I fulfilled my duty as an Emperor," he added, his voice growing quieter, almost as if the words pained him, "but not as a father."
Kuzan listened carefully, his mind turning over the Emperor's words. A fleeting thought passed through his mind—he couldn't help but think of Azlueth. The Emperor spoke as if it was worse that the younger two had never felt their mother's warmth, but Kuzan thought differently. In his eyes, never having that warmth in the first place was a mercy compared to having it, only to have it ripped away after achieving so much. The pain of loss, after knowing love, was far worse than the void of never having known it at all.
A small grimace flashed across Kuzan's face, a subtle reaction, but one that didn't go unnoticed. The Emperor's sharp eyes caught it, and for a moment, his expression softened, as though he realized something had touched a nerve.
But the moment passed quickly, and the Emperor smirked, as if deciding not to linger on that discovery. He moved on, the weight of his personal loss temporarily shelved as he shifted back into his imperial role.
"Plans have been set in motion," the Emperor said, his voice regaining its firmness. "I intend to start a kingdom-wide war, to take over this entire realm." His eyes flicked toward Kuzan, his gaze probing for a reaction. "And now that you're here… my plans have been disrupted. Not entirely, of course, but your presence has stirred more than a few pots."
Kuzan raised an eyebrow. "Disrupted? I would've thought my presence would be more of a—what do they call it—'God-given gift' to a nation preparing for war."
The Emperor chuckled, a low, almost cynical sound that reverberated through the room. "Yes, you could say that. Though the chaos you bring... it does complicate things." He paused, considering his next words carefully. He had to decide how much to reveal, how far to trust this young man who had already disrupted so much.
But before he could continue, the boy cut in, sharp and direct. "What about the Mage King?"
The Emperor's eyebrow twitched at the interruption, but he didn't let it show. What surprised him more was the casual way Kuzan had extracted that information. In just a few short days, this young man had managed to not only grasp the breadth of the Emperor's plans but also pinpoint the greatest threat they faced.
The Emperor allowed a small smile to creep onto his lips. Impressive. Most of his advisors had taken weeks, if not months, to understand even a fraction of what Kuzan had deduced on his own.
"He's my brother," the Emperor said, almost offhandedly. He delivered the words with an air of nonchalance, as if the familial bond between him and the kingdom's most powerful magical force was a mere detail, nothing more than a footnote. But deep down, he knew the weight of what he was revealing.
He wanted to see the look of surprise, maybe even shock, cross Kuzan's face. After all, the boy had blindsided him at every turn in this conversation. Now it was the Emperor's turn to throw him off balance.
But Kuzan didn't flinch. His expression remained calm, thoughtful. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. Instead, his eyes narrowed, as though processing the information, turning it over in his mind.
Kuzan leaned back in his chair, a glint of something unusual—something genuine—flickering in his eyes. Then he asked, in a tone filled with tremendous joy, "Your brother? The Mage King?"
"Yes," the Emperor continued. "So you can see why your appearance, while chaotic, might also be a boon. This war was inevitable, but now I have more leverage." His tone softened a fraction. "And as for my children… you've noticed their roles, I presume?"
Kuzan nodded, his mind piecing together the dynamics that shaped the Emperor's family. He had already seen how each of the Emperor's offspring played their part in this intricate game.
The youngest, the swordsman, being trained by the disciple of the Royal Commander, his gift of insight into the hearts of men useless in his creed.
The second daughter, with her sharp intellect and natural command of magic, training under none other than the Mage King, selfishly following her path and damning the consequences.
And then, there was Azlueth—the problem child, the one forced to take on the burden of the throne in the absence of her siblings.
'What an interesting family dynamic.' Kuzan couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the Emperor. He had not only inherited a dysfunctional kingdom but also had to manage the complexities of a dysfunctional family.
'Poor guy,' Kuzan thought.
'Managing a nation is one thing, but dealing with these children on top of it? It's no wonder he's at his wit's end.'
Azuleth, the daughter who refused to fit into any mold, who had no clear path or neatly assigned role. She served as a war-commander, trained directly under the Emperor himself. In a way, she was a reflection of her father—stubborn, defiant, and unpredictable. She wasn't content to simply follow orders or inherit a title; Azlueth sought something more elusive, something even the Emperor could not fully control. And that, perhaps, was why she fascinated Kuzan the most.
"Azuleth," Kuzan said aloud, his tone thoughtful, even forgetting that he was currently in the midst of a conversation.
The Emperor's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing an opportunity. "What about her?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of intrigue.
Kuzan remained silent, lost in his thoughts, as if the mention of Azuleth had pulled him into a private world. He seemed to ignore the man sitting in front of him entirely, caught up in the mysteries of the Emperor's most unpredictable daughter.
The Emperor leaned back, studying Kuzan carefully, his gaze sharp. "You think highly of her, then?" he probed, hoping to gauge the young man's intentions.
This time, Kuzan heard the question, but instead of answering, he chose to steer the conversation in another direction.
"Why though?" Kuzan asked, his curiosity surfacing in a way that even he couldn't suppress. "Why wage another war after everything you've been through? Didn't you say, after your wife's death, that you were done with conquest?"
The Emperor's face stiffened for a moment, the weight of the question hanging between them. He looked up, his eyes heavy with the burden of his decisions, the weight of the past etched into his features. "It's because of her death," he began, his voice softer but no less resolute. "This will be my final act. I will unite this fractured land once and for all. And when it's done, I will place the throne into Azlueth's hands." His voice lowered, taking on a somber tone. "Only then, when I'm gone, will I have no reason to fear for her. I won't become a ghost that lingers, worrying for her fate."
Kuzan stared at him, digesting the weight of those words. "Then why not go all the way?" Kuzan asked, his tone pragmatic. "Why not conquer the whole world? You clearly have the will for it. You could safeguard your daughter's future forever."
The Emperor shook his head slowly. "I can't. I'm too old. I'm tired. But this—this I can do." His eyes seemed to cloud with a distant memory. "At least I can fulfill the conditions of my family's future as I'm about to pass on."
The Emperor expected Kuzan to react with either disbelief or perhaps a lack of understanding. How could someone as young and ambitious as Kuzan, who craved strength and domination, possibly grasp the deep-seated fears of an aging ruler, a father on the edge of mortality? A man determined to forge a peaceful world for his loved ones, ensuring they could thrive in tranquility after his departure?
But instead, to his surprise, Kuzan's eyes flashed with a sudden depth of comprehension. He nodded, not out of deference, but out of a shared understanding. It was a look the Emperor hadn't expected—a rare moment of connection between two vastly different men.
And in that moment, the Emperor realized something. Something that had been brewing quietly in the back of his mind since the beginning of their conversation.
He liked this boy.
The Emperor had spent years surrounded by courtiers, generals, and sycophants, all of whom played their part in the grand theater of imperial politics. But none of them—none of them—had ever sparked his interest quite like Kuzan. The young man was called strong, cunning, and brilliant by all who knew him, but there was something more. Something that reminded the Emperor of… himself.
A mischievous smile crept onto the Emperor's face, one that Kuzan immediately recognized—Azuleth had that same smile, though hers was always tinged with defiance.
The Emperor's thoughts shifted from the grand strategies of kings and kingdoms to something more personal. Something more… familial.
Had he finally found the perfect candidate for a son-in-law?
"So... what do you think of Azuleth, Mr. King?" The Emperor's tone was deceptively casual, but a mischievous sparkle flickered in his eyes as he addressed Kuzan by the title he had been forced to adopt. After all, why would a demon reveal his true name here, in this palace built on secrets?
Kuzan leaned back in his chair, a devilish smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He knew this game all too well. "Azuleth is... quite something," he replied, deliberately keeping his tone noncommittal. "But I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to afford a dowry."
The Emperor's lip twitched as he fought to suppress a laugh. He knew better than anyone that the insights Kuzan had already shared were worth more than the dowries of ten queens combined. Kuzan's deflection amused him—bold, clever, and utterly evasive. "No dowry, hmm? Quite the humble demon we have here. But I suspect you're worth far more than gold or jewels," the Emperor teased, leaning forward as if to share a secret.
Kuzan's eyes sparkled, catching the playful tone. "Besides," he added with a mischievous glimmer, "I'm rather fond of my current liaison."
The Emperor raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the audacity of the statement. He hadn't anticipated such cheek from Kuzan, but it was... refreshing. "Fiana, you mean?" he asked, pretending to mull it over. "Why not take her as well? A king should have a harem, after all. Who am I to stop a man from having his fun?"
Kuzan chuckled softly. "You're a generous man, Emperor. But speaking of Fiana…" He paused, his tone shifting slightly.
The Emperor's grin faltered, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "You should go easy on her. After all, she's only guilty of working in my palace."
Kuzan inclined his head in acknowledgment, ignoring the subtle threat. "Moving on… you act as if you can replace Azlueth in my eyes. Do you really believe that's possible?"
"Replace?" The Emperor's voice turned serious, his earlier mirth fading. "You misunderstand me, boy. I'm not trying to replace anyone. I'm trying to secure a future for all of us—Azuleth, Fiana, this kingdom. You see the potential in them, don't you?"
Kuzan shrugged, feigning indifference. "I see the potential for chaos. And I'm not one to shy away from it, Mr. Emperor. But your thoughts are clouded by emotion. I can't trust you if you let sentiment drive your decisions."
The Emperor leaned back, crossing his arms. "And yet you refuse to marry Azlueth. Wouldn't that silence the whispers about your identity and secure your place here?"
Kuzan's response was sharp and sudden, catching the Emperor off guard. "Marry Azlueth? What a waste of time. Between public appearances, court politics, and pretending to care about people who would rather see me dead—no, I'm not interested in playing the part of a husband. Not to mention, Azlueth is... fine, but not worth the trouble."
"Not even for the sake of procreation?" The Emperor's bluntness elicited a raised eyebrow from Kuzan.
"Procreation?" Kuzan's laughter boomed, echoing off the walls. "You think I'm here to sire children for your kingdom? What an odd notion, Emperor. And here I thought you were a shrewd ruler."
The Emperor chuckled, appreciating Kuzan's candor. "You're an odd man, Kuzan. But that's precisely why I find you so fascinating."
Kuzan offered a small, mock bow from his chair. "I aim to please, Emperor."
"Is that all this is to you? A game?" The Emperor asked, his tone shifting again, this time tinged with genuine curiosity.
Kuzan's smile faded slightly, his gaze sharpening. "A game, yes. But at least it's a fun one. However, let me remind you that I have no intention of being shackled to this kingdom. If it becomes a burden, I'll tear it down with my own hands."
"Then the only question remains..." Kuzan spoke with intrigue, as if inviting a challenge. "Can you keep up?"
The Emperor's expression shifted from amusement to contemplation. "You remind me of an old merchant I once knew, always thinking about the next deal, the next advantage. But you're not just any merchant, are you?"
Kuzan shrugged, not bothering to deny it. "Is that all for now, Emperor? Or do you have more to say?"
The Emperor sighed, feeling the weight of Kuzan's words settle over him. "I had planned to let Azlueth handle all of this as part of her training to truly ascend the throne. But you're right. This situation demands more than just a passive ruler. I'll step in where needed."
Kuzan smiled again, this time with a hint of approval. "Good. And one more thing, Emperor: postpone the war."
The Emperor raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his face. "Postpone the war? And why would I do that?"
Kuzan leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "Because once I've secured my position here, once I've put all the pieces in place, I'll hand you this entire archipelago on a silver platter. Why fight for scraps when you can feast on the whole banquet?"
The Emperor stared at Kuzan for a long moment, weighing his words. Slowly, a grin spread across his face.
"Fine…"