The heavy silk curtains in the Empress's quarters fluttered as a cold drift slipped through. The dim light of the lanterns reflected her shadow on the walls, looming larger than life. She sat rigidly on a cushioned seat, her nails tapping against the wooden armrest of her chair, the only sound breaking the tense silence.
A kneeling maid trembled before her, head bowed low. "Y-Your Majesty, perhaps... it's best not to dwell on the Dowager's words. She only wishes to provoke you—"
The maid's words were cut off by the sharp crash of porcelain shattering against the floor. The Empress had hurled her tea cup, her chest heaving with fury. "Provoke me? That wretched hag lives to humiliate me! And those vipers, Seraphine and liz, snapping at my heels like starving dogs!" She stood abruptly, pacing the room like a caged beast.
The maid dared not look up, her entire body trembling. "Your Majesty, please—"
"Silence!" the Empress snapped, her voice like a whip. She stopped suddenly, turning to face her maid, her eyes blazing. "Do you know what they're saying about my son? That he is unfit. Unworthy. That he should be cast aside because of something as insignificant as a spirit root!" Her laughter was bitter, the sound hollow. "A red spirit root may be low, but it is still a spirit root. That serpent Seraphine thinks her crystal-rooted boy is the empire's salvation? I'll make sure she chokes on her pride before she sees the throne."
She moved to her vanity, her reflection staring back at her—eyes rimmed red, lips drawn thin. The Empress reached for a small, ornate box tucked into the corner. She opened it, revealing a collection of vials filled with glimmering powders and murky liquids. Her fingers hovered over them, a cold smile curling her lips.
"Lady Seraphine..." she murmured, almost as if savoring the name. "Perhaps a little reminder that ambition is a dangerous thing. A quiet illness—nothing too obvious, just enough to weaken her spirit. A concubine is nothing without her health, after all."
The maid, horrified, hesitated before speaking. "Your Majesty, such actions... If discovered—"
"Discovered? Do you think anyone would dare accuse me openly?" The Empress's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Not even the Dowager would cross that line. And if she does, I'll ensure she meets her end before she can act." She leaned forward, her reflection hardening. "Let them think I'm a figurehead, a symbol. I am more than that. I am a mother, and I will not see my son's future destroyed because of their schemes."
She slammed the box shut and turned to the maid. "Prepare the powders. I want it delivered discreetly. And if anyone asks, you know nothing."
The maid nodded quickly, her fear palpable. "Yes, Your Majesty."
As the maid scurried out, the Empress slumped into her chair, her expression crumbling. "All this for the throne..." she muttered to herself. Her gaze turned toward the ceiling, and her tone grew venomous. "Dowager, you think you hold all the power. But I will drag you down into the dirt before I let you destroy my son."
---
The Great Hall was silent, save for the rhythmic tapping of the emperor's fingers on the armrest of the Dragon Throne. The sound echoed ominously, like the ticking of a clock counting down the seconds to doom.
An official, his forehead glistening with sweat, knelt on the polished floor. His voice wavered as he spoke, "Your Majesty, the situation in the North worsens by the day. The illness spreads rapidly, and entire villages have succumbed. We beg for your wisdom. Shall we send aid to contain the disease?"
The emperor's gaze, cold and unyielding, bored into the man. "Aid? Why waste resources on the weak? Burn the villages. Salt the earth if you must. The North will be cleansed."
A murmur rippled through the court. One official, bolder than the rest, stepped forward. "Your Majesty, the people in the North are loyal subjects. If we destroy their homes, we risk rebellion. Perhaps—"
The emperor's sharp gesture silenced him. "Loyal? A dog that bites its master is not loyal—it is rabid. And what do we do with rabid dogs, Minister ?"
The official's head sank lower, his voice barely audible. "We... put them down, Your Majesty."
"Exactly." The emperor leaned forward, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "Let them learn that loyalty is not a right but a privilege earned through obedience. If they wish to defy me, they will pay the price in blood and ash."
As the emperor exits, the court remains frozen in fear. A low-ranking official, daring to whisper, turns to his colleague.
"Burning entire villages... Does he not see that this will breed hatred among the people? The North has always been fragile. A rebellion there could spread."
The colleague glanced around nervously before replying in a hushed tone. "Do not speak so openly. You know what happened to Minister george when he opposed His Majesty. Executed before dawn, his entire family exiled."
"But this cruelty... it cannot go on forever. Even the strongest throne will fall if the people rise against it."
---
In the North:
Switching briefly to the North, the scene shows the grim consequences of the emperor's decree.
Black smoke curled into the sky, blotting out the sun as entire villages burned. Women clutched their children, their faces streaked with ash and tears, as imperial soldiers marched through, torching homes and crops alike.
One villager, gaunt and hollow-eyed, stared at the ruins of his home. "Is this what loyalty earns us? Death and destruction?"
A soldier shoved him aside, barking orders. "Move! The emperor's decree spares no one."
In the distance, a small group of survivors huddled together, their eyes burning with desperation and fury. Among them, a young woman, her spirit unbroken, whispered fiercely, "We cannot bow to this tyranny any longer. If the emperor wants us dead, let us show him that the North does not die quietly."
The news spread like wildfire...the emperor destroyed the North making the country in unease .
---
The rebel camp stirred under the pale light of a waning moon. The scent of damp earth mingled with the faint aroma of woodsmoke as figures moved silently among the tents. Inside the sage's quarters, a tense conversation unfolded.
A young scout, dust clinging to his travel-worn cloak, stood before the sage and Cold. His voice was grim, his words measured but urgent. " Sage, the emperor has issued a decree. Entire villages in the North are being burned. He calls it 'cleansing' to contain the illness, but the people know it is slaughter."
The sage's expression grew somber, his serene demeanor shadowed by the weight of the news. Cold's eyes narrowed, her hands clenching at her sides.
Cold's voice cut through the silence. "How far has the purge spread?"
The scout hesitated. "As far as the Gate of the North. Survivors say soldiers are torching homes, fields, and even those who show no signs of illness. No one is spared."
The sage clasped his hands, his tone heavy. "He grows bolder in his cruelty. This illness is merely a pretext for his campaign of terror."
Cold slammed her fist on the table, her voice trembling with fury. "He seeks to sow fear, to crush resistance before it even takes root. If he had his way, the North would be nothing but ash."
The sage glanced at the small cot where the princess slept peacefully, oblivious to the chaos beyond the camp. "And this is the empire she is destined to inherit." He turned back to Cold, his voice quiet but firm. "We cannot let despair take hold. The princess represents the hope of a future where such atrocities have no place."
Cold's gaze softened as she looked toward the child, then hardened with resolve. "We will protect her, Master Sage. But hope alone won't save the North—or the empire. If the emperor's cruelty continues unchecked, there may be nothing left for her to save."
The scout shifted uneasily, his voice low. "There are whispers among the survivors. They say the emperor seeks to purge not just the ill, but anyone who might oppose his rule. The North burns because he fears what it could become."
The sage's eyes darkened. "He sees rebellion in every shadow. But rebellion cannot be extinguished with fire—it only spreads. His actions will create the very uprising he fears."
Cold nodded, her voice steady. "Then let us ensure the flame of rebellion burns bright enough to reach his throne."