1455 EW, Castle Black
Valtherion Duchy, Endora Empire
The sun blazed overhead as if determined to squeeze every ounce of discomfort from the gathered nobles and ministers.
In front of the Black Castle, ominously nicknamed the Castle of Death, two lines of finely dressed figures awaited the arrival of the imperial envoy.
Duke Lucius Valtherion stood proud at the forefront, his son Lucien beside him, radiating arrogance.
Greed burned in their eyes, hidden beneath the guise of reverence.
"My lord, the envoy from the empire has reached the bridge. They will arrive shortly. Shall I order the peasants to kneel?"
The speaker was Sir Gorden Blaze, knight commander of the Valtherion household knights. A sixth-rank aura knight, Gorden's loyalty to the Duke had been unwavering since his youth.
His face twisted with contempt as he turned his gaze toward the trembling commoners gathered nearby.
The Duke chuckled at the sight of them, savoring the moment.
"No need, Gorden. Let them stand. We wouldn't want the imperial envoy taking offense at unnecessary displays of servility. Their judgment matters more than reminding these peasants of their place."
"As you Command.."
Gorden replied, retreating a step to stand respectfully behind his master. His scornful expression showed how little he thought of the commoners' trembling forms.
Lucius turned to his youngest son, the pride of the family.
"Lucien, my boy, remember to conduct yourself with poise. We can't afford any missteps today. This decree could determine our family's survival. Don't be like your useless older brother."
Lucien sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Father, you're insulting me by even mentioning him. That fool can barely handle first-circle magic while I've already reached the fifth circle."
"There's no comparison between us. He's an embarrassment to the Valtherion name."
"sigh...I regret ever letting that failure survive," the Duke muttered coldly.
And yet, I heard them, Hidden among the shadows of the castle wall, their scornful words reached me with the precision of daggers.
These moments were routine, part of the endless cycle I'd endured for far too long.
A castle guard on wall noticed me, and crept a sneer wide and unrepentant.
"Well, if it isn't Lord Caelum! Hoping to impress Daddy Dearest, are we? Trying to rise above your station, maybe?"
I brushed the words off, though my fingers tightened slightly on the hilt of my sword. The urge to showing him god's mercy, flashed briefly in my mind, but I held it in check.
There wasn't much joy in silencing cringe pawns like him.
"Shut up, NPC," I said evenly, stepping past.
The real reason I was here wasn't out of love or duty, nor even spite. I'd simply come to watch my father and dear little brother kneel when the envoy arrived. The moment their carefully built arrogance cracked, even a little, brought a lot of satisfaction.
So I couldn't miss such a chance.
The arrival of the imperial envoy was near. I glanced at my watch as I pulled it from my pocket. It was a golden and white antique, aged yet still precise and reliable.
The hands rested on 9:30 AM, and I knew without a doubt the envoy would arrive at 9:35.
If anyone asked how I knew the exact time, I'd smirk and claim to be a prognosticator. Not that anyone would believe me, of course.
As expected, five minutes wasn't much time at all. I spent them perched on the castle wall, gazing over the desolate expanse of the Valtherion plains, a land worn to its bones by endless wars, brutal winters, and the crushing weight of an unyielding aristocracy.
To make matters worse, the land was cursed; by day, it baked under the relentless heat of the sun, and by night, it froze solid, draped in a cruel white blanket of snow. It wasn't a view to admire, but a grim reminder of where I stood, or rather, where they all stood.
Before long, the booming voice of the announcer shattered the oppressive silence.
"Envoy of the ruler of the plains and the protector of the realm, the first messengers of His Majesty, Sir Ender Clementine, head of the divine messengers, have graced us with his holy presence!"
The voice boomed across the barren fields, brimming with a contrived energy, its tone infused with both fear and respect.
I turned my eyes toward the approaching figures. Twelve men in pristine white robes adorned with cascading yellow cloaks marched forward in a regal procession.
Their faces were hidden behind identical, same featureless masks of silver, each bearing the imperial crest: a half-moon pierced by a burning sword, etched boldly onto their chests.
At the forefront, two flag bearers strode forward, poles in hand, hoisting silk banners emblazoned with the same ominous emblem. The banners billowed in the faint wind, an artistic display of power.
To the untrained eye, it was a sight crafted to inspire awe, a spectacle of majesty and divine authority.
To me?
It was nothing more than monotony, a tedious performance I had endured countless times before. I could predict their every step, every motion. This wasn't the first time I had seen it.
Perhaps...It wouldn't be the last.
"We welcome the envoys of the Emperor to our humble land," Duke Valtherion declared loudly.
He was unnaturally polite, considering his nature. Humility and practiced admiration—the kind only centuries of political maneuvering could refine—oozed from him. It didn't stop there, either. His flattery spilled forth in waves as the entourage came closer, bows and soft words exchanged like cheap currency.
Finally, the lead messenger raised a hand, a signal for silence.
"No need for formalities, Duke. We do not carry the authority of our own—only the will of His Majesty, the ruler of realms and the protector of order. We are but humble slaves to the benevolent monarch."
His words were as much a performance as the entrance itself. Without delay, the head envoy, Ender Clementine, unfurled the golden scroll he carried—a rare sight in this desolate duchy.
"Duke Lucius Darius Valtherion, first of his name, bearer of the divine Wyvern bloodline, ruler of the Valtherion Plains, and protector of the last bastion before doom. We carry the will of His Majesty, the absolute ruler of our empire."
Finally, the head envoy spoke proudly, for this was the will of the monarch.
"We comply," the Duke declared, bowing low. Having no other choice, he dropped to the ground, kneeling.
Around him, the gathered nobles dropped to one knee as well, as if the force of the decree itself had pulled them down. Their voices echoed in unison, trembling with reverence, servility, desperation—and above all, greed.
I leaned against the wall, smirking faintly. Watching my father, so full of pride and ambition, humble himself at the mere words of the Emperor was a guilty pleasure I never tired of. Regardless, the Emperor was scum in my eyes, and though whispered tales of his cunning and dominance abounded, even he could not rise above imperial authority.
"Listen well."
The head messenger's voice cut sharply as he tightened his grip on the golden scroll, his eyes peering through the mask as if weighing the entire duchy.
"As majestic and courageous as your ancestors were, His Majesty expresses deep sorrow at the current state of Valtherion. Reduced as you are, it pains the throne to see a bloodline so noble brought so low. Thus, in His Majesty's infinite benevolence, he grants you the lost Viscounty of Modren and restores it to your domain."
Cheers broke out among the gathered nobles, restrained but filled with hope. Their greedy gazes glinted, already counting the benefits this newfound land would bring.
"However," the messenger continued, his tone hardening,
"this grant comes with a condition—a test of your loyalty and honor as defenders of this realm. The remnants of the Vulcan bloodline, who fled to the Antos Desert, pose a great danger. Should they awaken their latent demonic bloodlines, the consequences could prove catastrophic. His Majesty decrees that you eradicate them entirely before such a tragedy occurs."
"Duke Valtherion, descendant of the divine Wyvern, do you accept this charge?"
The Duke lowered his head, humility flowing from him in deliberate waves.
"I deserve a thousand deaths should I fail His Majesty's noble order."
While everyone was busy reveling in their glory, my focus was on my surroundings, waiting for the moment that, no matter how many times I saw it, still amazed me. Even when I was playing, I wasn't this enthralled. This place feels like a dark wonderland.
Yes, I possessed a game character.