Morax looks up to the ceiling with Testarossa by his side. This place certainly evolved over the past few decades, he thought, distracted. It was a welcome distraction, otherwise he'd just get pissed if he listened anymore to the verbal war of the people before his throne.
The grand chamber of the High Sovereign's throne room was as imposing as it was opulent. Ornate tapestries and intricate carvings of deep gold adorned the pristine white walls, a clear reflection of Cair Paravel's rich history and wealth.
At his throne, High Sovereign Velmorax, known to his close circles simply as Morax, observed the proceedings with an air of detached interest. The discussion about Morax's impending departure had sparked a heated debate among the five Sovereigns.
"We must respect High Sovereign Morax's decision. He has trusted us with the governance of Cair Paravel. We are more than capable of maintaining order in his absence." Cien, a descendant of the White Primordial, said with a measured tone as he lifted his glasses gracefully.
Moss, another descendant of the White Primordial, nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Our duty is to uphold the principles he has established. We should focus on continuing our work without unnecessary panic." Despite his young body, he was the most imposing amongst the five sovereigns.
The three nobles, however, were less convinced. Elara, her tone dripping with disdain, leaned forward. "Respectfully, Cien, you underestimate the gravity of this situation. High Sovereign Morax's presence is our stabilizing force. Without him, we risk losing our standing and the delicate balance we have maintained."
Vaelis, his expression stern, added, "Elara is right. The Church of Luminous is constantly looking for any sign of weakness. If they perceive His Majesty's absence as an opportunity, they will undoubtedly act against us."
Toren, the youngest and most impetuous of the nobles, slammed his fist on the C-shaped table facing the high throne. "We cannot afford to show any sign of vulnerability. High Sovereign Morax, you must reconsider. The fate of Cair Paravel hangs in the balance!"
Morax, watching the argument unfold, remained silent. His amber eyes flickered with a mix of amusement and contemplation. The Sovereigns were displaying their true colors—Cien and Moss, calm and collected, while the nobles revealed their insecurities and ambition.
Cien responded to Toren, his voice steady but struggling to maintain calm. "You underestimate the strength of our people and the systems Lord Morax has put in place. We have faced challenges before and emerged stronger. This will be no different."
Moss chimed in; his tone sharp. "Your lack of faith is disappointing, sovereigns. Lord Morax has trained us well. We are not helpless children. We are the Sovereigns of Cair Paravel, and we must act like it."
Elara shot back, her eyes narrowing. "It's easy for you to say, Cien. You and Moss have always enjoyed the favor of Premier Testarossa and Lord Morax. But for the rest of us, his presence is a shield against those who would challenge our authority."
Moss leaned forward, his tone sharper now as he narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Are you implying that without His Grace, your positions are threatened? Perhaps it is your own lack of competence that concerns you, Elara, not the stability of Cair Paravel."
Vaelis's face reddened with anger. "How dare you! We have worked tirelessly for this realm. We deserve recognition and power. Without Morax here, our influence is diminished. That is the reality we face."
Cien, eyes flashing with a rare hint of anger, retorted, "Lord Morax, Vaelis. Who do you think you are to address his grace without honorifics? Your words betray your true intentions. This is not about the safety of Cair Paravel but about maintaining your personal power and influence?"
Toren sneered, "And what of it? We have earned our places through blood and sweat. We will not see it all crumble because of some misguided sense of duty."
Moss, his voice icy, interjected, "Your greed blinds you. This is not about personal gain. It is about serving the people and maintaining the vision Lord Morax has set forth."
Elara, unwilling to back down, replied, "Spare us your sanctimony, Moss. You speak as if you are above us, but you, too, seek to maintain your position. Do not pretend you are any different."
The argument escalated, voices rising, accusations flying. The tension in the room became palpable, and the air thickened with animosity.
Suddenly, Morax rose from his seat, his presence overwhelming the room. "Enough," he said, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of command. The Sovereigns fell silent, their eyes turning to him.
"You are Sovereigns. I have bestowed upon you my blessings, and here you are, squabbling like greedy lessers. How utterly repulsive." As he spoke, Morax unleashed his oppressive aura.
The sheer force of his presence was enough to make the chamber tremble. The weaker members of the council found it difficult to breathe, their bodies instinctively recoiling from the overwhelming power.
The room seemed to darken, the very air vibrating with the intensity of his aura. Weaker mortals would have been erased from existence by this display, but the Sovereigns, strong as they were, merely trembled before him.
Morax's eyes glowed with an otherworldly light as he continued, "I have trusted you to lead in my stead. Do not make me regret that decision. Remember your duties and rise to the occasion. Show the strength and unity that Cair Paravel stands for, or I will find those who can."
The Sovereigns, cowed and humbled, nodded in unison. The oppressive aura lifted slightly, though the weight of Morax's presence remained. His words had left an indelible mark.
"Continue to uphold the principles that have brought us prosperity and unity. I will return in due time," Morax concluded, his voice returning to its calm, authoritative tone. "Trust in yourselves, as I trust in you."
As Morax exited the chamber along with Testarossa, the oppressive silence lingered. The Sovereigns sat in a brooding, tense stillness, each lost in their own turbulent thoughts.
Cien, despite his calm demeanor, felt a gnawing dread in his chest. The intent Morax had displayed was a dangerous reminder of their place. His mind raced, contemplating the consequences of their actions and the perilous path they were treading. "We must prove ourselves worthy," he thought, but doubt clouded his resolve. "Have we already failed?"
Moss, ever the loyalist, tried to shake off the sense of doom that hung over him. "Lord Morax has trusted us," he repeated in his mind, as if to convince himself. "If we cannot hold ourselves together, what hope do we have?"
Elara's thoughts churned with resentment and fear. Morax's display of intent had been a bitter pill to swallow. Her ambition felt like a noose tightening around her neck. "We are Sovereigns," she thought bitterly, "yet we are reduced to trembling before him like frightened children." Her grip on her power felt tenuous, and the fear of losing it gnawed at her relentlessly.
Vaelis stared at the empty space where Morax had stood, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. "We are supposed to be the leaders of Cair Paravel," he thought angrily. "But we are nothing more than puppets, dancing to his tune." The oppressive aura was a reminder of the futility of their positions without Morax's blessing.
Toren, the youngest and most impulsive, seethed with a mix of rage and humiliation. "How dare he?" he thought, his pride wounded by Morax's effortless rebuke. "We are not children to be scolded." Yet, beneath his bravado, a deep fear gnawed at him—the fear of being truly powerless. His earlier bravado now felt hollow, his ambition turning into a dangerous liability.
"Let me remind you," Cien began, his gaze fixed on Toren and Vaelis, "the High Sovereign has bestowed upon us a great honor and responsibility. Insulting him or questioning his decisions is not only disrespectful but dangerous."
Moss, standing beside him, added, "Lord Morax's patience is not infinite. You saw his power firsthand, a mere fraction of what he is capable of. Do not make the mistake of thinking you are indispensable. We are all here by his grace."
Elara crossed her arms, a defiant look in her eyes. "Are you suggesting we just bow down and accept everything without question? We have our own authority too."
Cien's eyes narrowed. "Our authority is derived from Morax's blessing. Without it, we are nothing more than figureheads. Do not let ambition blind you to the reality of our situation."
Vaelis leaned back in his chair, still seething. "So, we are just to be his puppets then? Follow orders without a voice of our own?"
Moss shook his head. "We have a voice, but it must be used wisely. Challenging the High Sovereign openly, questioning his intentions, is not wise. It undermines the very foundation of Cair Paravel."
Toren, his pride still smarting, spoke up. "And what if his decisions lead us astray? Are we to stand by and watch?"
Cien's voice grew colder. "Do not mistake Morax's benevolence for weakness. He has seen the rise and fall of civilizations. His wisdom far exceeds our own. Insulting him, questioning his motives, it's not only unwise but perilous. He does not take kindly to insubordination."
Moss added, his tone more conciliatory but firm, "We must find a way to express our concerns without disrespect. There is a way to voice our opinions that does not involve undermining his authority. Unity is our strength, but it must be a unity based on respect and understanding."
Elara's defiance began to wane, replaced by a grudging acceptance. "Fine. But we cannot simply be yes-men. There must be a balance."
Cien nodded. "Agreed. But let us remember the consequences of overstepping our bounds. Lord Morax's warning was clear. We have been granted a position of power—let us not squander it with petty disputes and insults."
Vaelis and Toren exchanged glances. "We will be cautious," Vaelis said finally, his voice subdued. "But we must find a way to ensure our voices are heard."
Moss nodded, his expression serious. "And we will. But let us do so with the respect and reverence our High Sovereign deserves."
With that, the meeting ended on a note of uneasy agreement. The warnings from Cien and Moss hung in the air. The Sovereigns departed, their thoughts heavy with the knowledge that their positions, their very lives, were tied to the whims of the Myriad Dragon, Velmorax.
...…
...
…
"How dare those scums--!" Testarossa's low voice echoed dangerously in her chambers as she prepared to meet back on the palace's zenith balcony. Her voice, seething with rage, terrified the maids helping her pack her things.
She nearly killed the three other sovereigns of Cair Paravel-born. The only thing that stopped her was his Lord's presence and air of disinterest. It was clear that he's lost any form of trust on those trash, so why hasn't he killed them yet? She wondered as she untied the straps of her bra and put on a new one.
"Do they think that His Grace does not know of their corruption over their own domains?" She gritted her teeth as she burned a set of panties in her hands. Her aura was suppressed, but her killing intent was so intense that the maids can only stand a few feet back without succumbing to insanity.
Cien and Moss need to be educated. How dare they let those scums get this far… Testarossa sighed. Right now, she had more things to focus on. She needed to look her prettiest if she's going to accompany Morax to a short-term vacation.
"You," she pointed to a maid, who tensed up and bowed. "Put some lingerie in there… the black ones. There's some underneath those drawers." She gestured to a specific drawer in her dressing room.
As the Premier and Chief Adviser to the High Sovereign, Testarossa enjoyed a position and authority second only to Morax himself and above even the other Sovereigns. But the true joy of her life was her service to the Myriad Dragon.
It was clear she was infatuated with the guy, even feeling unsatiable lust and sexual hunger despite being a demon—a species who normally have very refined controls over their desires.
After a few more minutes of repeated makeup trials and dress-choices, Testarossa packed all his belongings to her dimensional storage and made her way to the balcony sitting atop the peak of the palace.
The balcony is only reserved for special guests and those Morax view as closest to him. Her free access to the place just signified how much service she had done to Morax over the past thousand years since she was summoned and named.
Arriving at the tall double doors, Testarossa knocked. "My lord, I have arrived. My apologies for your wait." After hearing a hummed response as a sign of yes, she opened the door.
She never ever got used to seeing her lord. She felt her legs quiver and her cheeks rise in temperature as she struggled to control her breathing, her gaze drinking in every detail of Morax's commanding presence.
His dark shirt, tantalizingly unbuttoned, revealed a sliver of his sculpted chest, and the golden accents on his attire matched the fierce glint in his smoldering amber eyes.
His tousled hair framed a face of sharp, regal features, and every movement he made seemed to ripple with raw, unrestrained authority. She admired the effortless grace with which he carried himself, the magnetic pull of his aura almost too much to bear.
Her heart pounded as she recalled the rare moments when his piercing gaze met hers, sending a thrill down her spine and igniting a fire of primal desire deep within. To Testarossa, Morax was the epitome of strength and allure, whose mere presence she couldn't deny and leaves her yearning for more.
Morax smiled, and Testarossa instantly felt like collapsing to her knees. It's a wonder how this girl has endured this lascivious craving for over a thousand years.
"Let's go," he said, dismissing her entirely. But even that was a pleasure to Testarossa's heart. She steeled her legs and followed after her lord. Standing in the open space of the balcony that seemed like a landing pad, a dragon lord appeared.
It was one of the several dragon lords in the area that Testarossa personally subdued and recruit to present to Morax. Not sharing any more words with each other, Testarossa and Morax climbed atop the giant dragon's back and were lifted up in the air.
"Tess," Morax called out. "Yes, my lord?"
After thinking for a few more seconds, "Have Moss guard the place and get Cien to recruit more demons, ones he can trust. I have no further use for those three sovereigns, so kill them off," he said, utterly devoid of compassion.
Testarossa smiled sadistically as she sent her thought transmissions to her descendants. "As you wish, my lord."
Such a shame but they had it coming. Of course, the two rode the dragon's back standing. They weren't affected by inertia or wind resistance whatsoever, and their balance defied gravity.
That reminds me… the last time I left Cair Paravel was a little less than five hundred years ago during the last Tenma War. Morax thought absentmindedly, excited of this break.
Looking back for the last time over the bustling capital of Cair Paravel, Morax headed off to the Magic Continent—to the Jura Tempest Federation.
The gears of fate had shifted with respect to the Myriad Dragon.