As Emperor Edric Valedarco departed the palace, embarking on his campaign, the air within the imperial city seemed to freeze. The once-vibrant heart of the empire fell eerily silent, its grandeur and splendor swept away as if by an unseen wind. In this stillness, Casso lingered in the shadows, eyes scanning every corner of the grand hall, each nerve in his body taut with anticipation. His plan, carefully woven for years, was now unfolding with a deadly precision.
He did not rush. Time, in this moment, was a luxury—one he could not squander. As expected, with the emperor's procession fading into the distance, the palace's defenses began to loosen. The tension in the air became palpable, a weight that hung heavy over the entire palace. And then, almost imperceptibly, came the ghostly rustle of movement—three thousand warriors, clad in black cloth armor, their faces cold and unreadable, materialized around the palace like a silent storm.
These warriors bore no insignia, made no sound, and left no trace of their passage. Their footsteps were deliberate and hushed, as though even the air itself feared to disturb them. Each step seemed part of a carefully orchestrated plan, moving swiftly and surely as they encircled the once-mighty heart of the empire. The palace guards, mere shadows of their former vigilance, suddenly appeared weak, as though a subtle, invisible pressure was crushing them, and they remained oblivious to the impending danger.
None knew, not even the most trusted, that Casso's handpicked deathly silent soldiers had long since infiltrated the palace's deepest reaches, controlling every channel through which information flowed. Those who once carried messages—whether palace servants or soldiers—had been quietly removed, and all communication had ceased. With no news reaching the outside, the empire's inner workings began to grind to a halt, immobilized by the absence of its lifeblood. Casso knew well that only by severing all communication could he gain the precious time needed to carry out his coup. Time, fleeting as it was, was the single greatest ally he had.
When the final pieces were in place, Casso began his approach toward the heart of the palace, his steps echoing softly in the hollow corridors. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows over his grim face, yet his mind remained as still and cold as ever. With each stride, the distance between him and the imperial power he sought shrank. The emperor's departure had given him no second chance, but the one thing he needed, the single object that could bestow the entire empire into his hands, lay in the queen's possession—the imperial insignia, the symbol of Edric's authority.
There was no rush, no desperation in his movements. His gaze was sharp, cold, unwavering, like a predator's. The deeper recesses of the palace housed the queen and her son, but to Casso, they were mere obstacles. His true objective lay elsewhere. The only thing that mattered now was that insignia, for with it, his claim on the empire would be complete.
Within the palace, unaware of the storm gathering outside, everything remained unnervingly calm. Everything, every step, every movement, was suffocated beneath an oppressive shadow, as if the very air in the palace was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable.
Casso approached the Queen's chamber, his steady footsteps echoing in the empty corridor, as if time itself had frozen. The surrounding silence pressed down, suffocating, and he had already ensured that the path to the Queen was clear—no one would warn her, no one could stop him. The palace guards, once an unbreachable line of defense, had either bent the knee or been dealt with, dragged into the quiet shadows where nothing remained but their absence.
To Casso, these details hardly mattered. There was no time for such trifles. The task ahead was all that concerned him. Reaching the Queen's door, he observed the heavy carvings upon it—ornate, almost mocking, in their delicate beauty, as though unaware of the chaos about to unfold. The lock presented no challenge to him; he effortlessly dismantled it and pushed the door open without a sound.
The room inside was filled with a faint, sweet scent, the soft light of dusk casting long shadows across the marble floor, as if drawing the curtains on an unfolding drama. The Queen's private chambers, ethereal in their tranquility, seemed out of place in this moment of impending disruption.
Queen Aurelia Valedarco remained seated by the window, her back straight, her face pale but composed, as though she had been waiting for this moment. She did not immediately turn to face him; instead, she remained poised, resolute in her silence, her very posture speaking of her refusal to accept the destruction that was about to come.
Casso advanced slowly, his steps deliberate, until he stood before her. She did not look at him.
"Your Majesty,"
Casso said softly, his voice unwavering.
"I trust you are aware of the changes to the Empire. The Emperor is far from here. It is time to face the truth."
Aurelia finally turned her head. Her eyes, once filled with warmth and affection, now burned with an unspoken fury and disbelief. She had sensed the shift in the air, the tense atmosphere within the palace that spoke of an approaching storm, but the reality of it, standing before her, was beyond comprehension.
"Do you think you can usurp the throne?"
she asked coldly, her voice firm, resolute.
"Why should the Empire bow to a man like you?"
A cruel smile tugged at Casso's lips, though it held no warmth.
"This isn't about making people follow me, Your Majesty. This is about power—and now, power is in my hands."
Aurelia's gaze grew even colder.
"You are a fool, Casso. Even if you sit upon the throne, the Empire will never submit to you."
"You'll find it bends quickly enough,"
he replied,
"but that's not why I'm here."
He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers.
"You know what I want, Your Majesty. I know you have the Emperor's seal."
Aurelia stood abruptly, her fists clenched. Though her face remained calm, her entire being exuded a tense energy.
"I will never give you the seal. Never."
Casso's smile faded, replaced by an even colder malice.
"You misunderstand,"
he said softly, his voice now like ice.
"This is not a request, Queen Aurelia. This is your only choice. Give me the seal, or I will take it from you."
For a fleeting moment, Aurelia's resolve faltered, but she quickly regained her composure.
"You can kill me, you can destroy everything I hold dear, but you will never get that seal."
She stepped back, her stance firm, despite the invisible threat closing in.
"Even if it costs me my life, I will never give it to you."
Casso studied her, his gaze devoid of pity. The weight of power surged within him, and there was no turning back now. The Queen's defiance, though it made him pause for a moment, did not alter his course. Her resistance was only a temporary delay, and he knew that delay would soon come to an end.
The room was unnaturally still, save for the sound of their breathing in the thick, suffocating air. Time seemed to stop, the weight of the moment pressing on every choice that had led to this moment. Casso lifted his chin slightly, his voice colder than before as he spoke:
"Very well. If you won't give it to me, I will make you regret it."