[Kuzan POV]
A moment passed, her declaration hanging in the air, filling the silence with a kind of finality.
Both had made their intentions clear, severing the tension before it could even take hold. Kuzan allowed himself a small smile.
It warmed him beyond words, having someone so capable, so perceptive—someone who truly understood who he was and still chose to stand by him.
The spark of that joy, of having found someone he'd once believed he never would, was dampened only by the present reality.
'If only I'd met you in another life,' his heart whispered in a lament that was as inevitable as it was unspoken, a cry of longing that dissolved unheard.
"The conference between the Emperor and the Dukes should be concluding soon, my dear," she said softly, her tone breaking the quiet spell.
"Then let's join the Emperor, shall we?" Kuzan replied, turning to Azuleth with a gentle nod.
Their posture was the image of a young couple in love. Her head rested on his shoulder, his own leaning into hers, and as they walked together, arms linked like partners heading to a dance, they radiated an affection almost ethereal. Neither paid any attention to Lady Fiana, who remained a silent presence at their side.
Summoning an attendant, Kuzan arranged for Lady Fiana to be escorted to her quarters, explaining she'd merely fallen asleep from exhaustion. With that, he and Azuleth moved forward, stepping toward their goal, crossing the polished floors of the palace's judicial sector to meet the men in question.
[Unknown POV]
A strange sight.
There was no other way to describe it.
The five most powerful men in the kingdom, each a symbol of wealth, strength, and influence, were convening in what almost felt like a farewell. Each Duke—a legend in his own right, a figure immortalized in stories and songs—carried with him the legacy of cities, armies, and achievements as vast as they were storied.
Duke Windslow the Amethyst Hawk.
Duke Totle the Immortal Bastion.
Duke Lira the Gentle Wave.
Duke Leon the Noble Lion.
Duke Cassius the Roaring Flame.
All had entered the council with their minds sharp and unwavering, yet none had left unchanged unchanged.
After all, their entire worldview had nearly been shattered by the proposals, revelations, and intentions shared by the Emperor—reserved solely for their ears alone.
The meeting's content was volatile, punctuated by heated arguments, unyielding stances, and more than a few moments where the tension teetered on the edge of eruption. It was a fiery exchange, rife with accusations, memorandums, and bold challenges—a clash of principles, power, and judgment.
One could fill volumes detailing this encounter, perhaps the most consequential gathering since the Great War. Each chapter would attempt to capture the thoughts, ambitions, and personal convictions of the Dukes, shaped by their unique histories, experiences, and loyalties, each molded and tested by the will of Emperor Lucius, the Great Emperor of War.
But perhaps it was better that no record existed of this meeting. Any attempt to document it in full might be mocked as absurd by future historians—if they ever managed to piece together what had truly transpired.
The chaotic blend of ideals and tempers might have become more of a comedy in hindsight, an idiom akin to missing the forest for the trees.
Each Duke was left with his own tangled thoughts, reeling from the upheaval this day had brought. The closest Earthly comparison would be the most powerful figures in the United States being told by the President of alien contact. Not only that, but of an alien capable of communicating, expressing a desire for peace, yet also possessing enough power, according to the Emperor and Captain Lastrange, to reduce their kingdom to rubble.
One could only imagine the turmoil in each of their minds.
Most quietly commended the Emperor's skill in handling such an impossible situation, though one Duke couldn't entirely believe his claims.
Had this situation unfolded in any other kingdom, it would have likely sparked a civil war, with every faction vying for access to the knowledge this "alien" held. Yet, Alkavia was different. Most of the Dukes had encountered a similar being once before, an experience that had forged bonds of caution and respect.
But even those familiar with the past knew that this time, there was no familial connection to keep the peace. The safety net that had once protected them was no longer there. Instead, they faced unprecedented risks, yet those very risks promised unprecedented rewards.
Most of the Dukes harbored resentment, knowing that their carefully orchestrated plans, developed over years, might now be upended—or even obliterated. But how could they dare to voice dissent? If anyone had reason to feel frustration, it was their Emperor. This was a man who had shed more blood, sweat, and tears than any other to see his vision for Alkavia realized. How could they bring up their personal disappointments to the one who, for all intents and purposes, had defied death itself to protect his people?
Their Emperor had forsaken his rightful rest, choosing instead to shoulder the weight of this new, chaotic era. None of them could begin to fathom the heartbreak Azuleth must feel now, with her father's legacy—and the promise of a hard-won peace—under threat of being shattered. And her father, ever aware of her struggles, had not spoken of her pain aloud, nor did he need to.
Yet, they were not the young, uncertain men they once were. This time, they would not wait for the Emperor to guide them through every step of this crisis.
Were such a circumstance to happen in any other kingdom, civil war would have erupted long ago, with factions vying to seize the knowledge this "alien" possessed. But Alkavia was different. Here, most of the Dukes had already dealt with a similar "alien" once before and knew well the weight of such knowledge.
Unfortunately, even for those familiar with the past, they understood that this time, there was no family bond to keep the peace. That safety net which had once preserved unity was now absent. This time, they faced both greater risk and, potentially, far greater reward.
The majority of the Dukes were furious, knowing that their carefully crafted plans, each years in the making, might now be disrupted—if not completely discarded. But who among them would dare voice dissent when their Emperor, the one who had sacrificed the most, the one who had poured his very life's blood, sweat, and tears into this final grand design, should be the most frustrated of all?
They had no shamelessness to bring up personal grievances to the one who had, in every sense, returned from the dead to ensure the Kingdom's survival, forsaking his peaceful rest to once again take on the burden of chaos.
None of them could even begin to fathom what Azuleth must be feeling, watching the great promise of peace and stability—the only reason she had ever agreed to the crown—threatened so gravely. Her father, well aware of her struggles, hadn't mentioned it either; he knew better than anyone how deeply her heart was entwined with that dream.
But they were not the young, uncertain Dukes of years past, reliant on the Emperor's guidance at every turn. They had grown, each strengthened by battles and years, and none of them needed to be told how to rise to this occasion. This time, they were prepared to stand on their own, to draw on their own experience and conviction in facing the uncertainties ahead.
It was time for them to step up, to prove that they had become leaders in their own right. Yet, as they watched the Emperor's unyielding stance, barring even the faintest proposal that might displease him, a different truth began to emerge: he was treating them as children still.
Unlike the last time they had met, where he had listened to every concern, soothed every doubt, and woven their collective vision with eloquence, this time he was terse and resolute. With age, it seemed, the Emperor's patience had worn thin. He laid out the situation plainly, covering only the essentials—the opportunity, the risk—and then, breaking all precedent, he issued a command.
This was no negotiation, no collaborative session to chart the future of Alkavia. The Emperor had done all the planning himself, and their role now was simple: to obey.
To the Dukes, it was sheer madness. Gone was any sense of shared power or mutual respect; it felt as if their seats at the table were in name only, and they were no longer partners in governance but subordinates. The youngest Duke had nearly declared outright rebellion, restrained only by his peers. The sheer audacity of the Emperor's directive had shaken them to the core.
But the Emperor had given only a single justification for his decision, one cryptic sentence as the room simmered with tension, ending their discussions:
"Meet him for yourself, and you'll understand."
And now, standing in front of him, they did.
The answer to their unspoken question, the one they had only dared to wonder in passing, was finally revealed.
'What's Azuleth's thinking about? What does she want?'
The answer came into sharp focus as they saw their Queen, the eldest and most brilliant of the Emperor's children, walking through the palace. The woman they had sworn loyalty to, the one who had always exuded strength and a calculated coldness, was now holding a man's hand with a smile that was utterly severe, almost unnerving in its intensity.
The sight before them was almost too much to bear. Their jaws nearly hit the floor. Even Duke Totle, ever the composed figure, had to rub his eyes with his balled fists, wondering if they had somehow gone cloudy from the shock.
They had seen smiles on Azuleth's face before, yes, but those smiles were always accompanied by the aftermath of bloodshed, victory, or devastation—nothing like the one she wore now.
A smile so pure, so full of love.
A smile that should have never appeared on that face.
'Unnatural.'
So unnatural, it made their hair stand on end.
Before Kuzan could even so much as acknowledge their presence, the Dukes were already feeling their minds begin to swell once again. The shock from the Emperor's earlier discussion had barely settled, and now they were left grappling with the sight of their fierce, unbreakable Queen appearing so... human.
'Just what kind of a monster can tame even that girl?' Duke Totle's thoughts swirled, and it was clear from the others' expressions that they shared the same sentiment.
Their caution grew.
But then they realized.
The oldest four of the Dukes exchanged annoyed glances at the Emperor.
'Wasn't this supposed to be a positive? Perhaps that safety net was still in place after all?'
In that split second, before they could even form their next thoughts, the Emperor's eyes had already widened, his face drained of color.
As pale as a ghost, on his jouney to the underworld.
The poor man's world had collapsed, and yet his friends, the men who had fought countless tribulations by his side, were too lost in their own swirling thoughts to notice the Emperor's state.
Before the Dukes could even begin to process the meaning of the Queen's close relationship with the man in question—what it might mean for their plans, how it affected the Kingdom, and the like—it was then that the boy, Kuzan, standing before them, gestured for the woman in his arms to let go.
Azuleth, though clearly reluctant, eventually complied.
And then—
BOOOOOMMMMMMM!
The shockwave reverberated through the air, as the Emperor realized that he now had four other passengers accompanying him on his trip.
[Kuzan POV]
"I'd always heard that first impressions were the most important."
Even so, the triviality of my actions left a bitter taste, a slight sting of shame that tugged at me.
This wasn't a battle of strength, nor a confrontation of wills, nor even a moment where I was required or compelled to assert myself.
But it was the least I could do for the woman who had sacrificed so much, just to ensure she wouldn't lose face in front of those who mattered.
[Unknown POV]
A pebble clashed a boulder.
A stream, a river.
A lion, a dragon.
Such was the dichotomy felt deep within the hearts of the men who moments ago had been preoccupied with countless concerns—strategies, beliefs, advantages. Now, all that mattered to them was one thing.
Survival.
Even the two who hadn't felt the crushing weight of the man before them were not unaffected. One of them, the Analytical Hawk, almost wished he had felt something, anything.
For a man gifted with intellect and foresight, a man whose sole purpose was to solve puzzles and play the game to win, it was the most terrifying possibility—being unable to read a single trace of the man in front of him.
It was as if the man were a circus performer, a dazzling display, all bright colors and extravagant gestures meant to capture attention. Duke Windslow had to give him that. But beneath the surface Not a flicker could be caught.
The last man, the youngest, the most inexperienced, was the most tragic of them all. He was foolish enough to not even understand his place, too hot-headed in his youth to think clearly, too brash to consider consequences. His fate was sealed.
For the boy had shown no ounce of his domain, not a flicker of his presence. Not even a hint of his aura leaked into the air.
He walked forward, his steps deliberate, taking his time as the older men stood frozen, unable to move, eyes wide with shock.
Then, in a flash, Kuzan stood before the young Duke. One moment, they were still, the next, his hands blurred in motion as he gripped the Duke's palms with a firm and unwavering hold.
His intent was clear.
"Say uncle."