NOTICE: THIS STORY IS PURELY FICTIONAL, AND EVERYTHING MENTIONED AND WRITTEN HERE IS MY OWN CREATION. NONE'S SENTIMENT IS TARGETED TO BE HARMED IN ANY MANNER.
Imperial Year 6230
The Hound of the Emperor, The Cursed Sword, The Witch of Nyxveil, and The Abandoned One.
As soon as I stepped into the grand courtroom, the whispers began. Hushed voices filled the air like a tide crashing against the shore—fearful, curious, malicious. None of them even bothered to hide their disgust.
Nothing new.
My iron boots made no sound against the floor of glass and gold, shimmering beneath my feet. The courtroom of Wyrmhold, a place where history had been written for over 6,230 years, loomed around me in all its splendor.
Massive stone pillars stretched toward the heavens, their surfaces engraved with ancient symbols of power and justice.
Stained-glass windows depicting rulers and mythical beasts cast eerie patterns of color across the polished marble. Chandeliers of enchanted crystal floated above, their light neither flickering nor dimming, a testament to the magic that thrived within these walls.
At the center of the room lay a raised circular platform, woven with golden inlays forming an ancient sigil. Rows of curved, dark wooden benches encircled it, occupied by robed officials, noble representatives, and silent spectators. Hooded figures loomed in the shadows near towering bookshelves—advisors, spies, perhaps even assassins, waiting for the right moment.
At the far end of the chamber, seated upon a throne of blackened gold, was Emperor Kaelith Vaelion Aelric.
He was a man of 50, yet time had done little to dull the sharpness of his ice-blue eyes. His long black hair streaked faintly with silver framed a face lined with wisdom and the weight of the crown. Draped in royal robes of midnight and sapphire, he radiated absolute authority.
But today, I wasn't standing beside him. Today, I was the accused.
I kneeled, voice cold and unshaken. "May the heavens continue to bless the land of Wyrmhold. Commander Selantina Amaris Nyxveil, at your service."
A silence stretched between us as I lifted my head. Our gazes met, exchanging unspoken words honed over 30 years of battle, struggle, and… something far more difficult to define.
Kaelith sighed, rubbing his temples as if I had just handed him a particularly annoying bureaucratic nightmare.
"Madam Nyxveil, I heard you submitted your resignation letter to the Ministry of War yesterday." His voice was flat, but I caught the barely restrained irritation beneath it.
The crowd erupted in shocked murmurs.
She's resigning? Why now? Is she sick? I heard she's preparing to pass down the Nyxveil estate to her adopted son. This could shift the political balance of Wyrmhold… If she leaves, will the Court of Ignis fall under the Grand Duke's control?
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I wasn't even gone yet, and the snakes were already scheming.
"Yes, Your Majesty," I replied coolly.
Kaelith clenched his jaw, his fingers twitching against the throne's armrest.
Angry?
Maybe.
Did I care? Not particularly. I had lived long enough playing this dangerous game, and my health was failing me. I wanted to live a simple life, away from the treachery of the court.
Just let me resign in peace, Kaelith! I have suffered under your rule for decades. Let me retire and bake some damn bread in the countryside!
Before he could respond, a smooth voice cut through the tension.
"I suppose Madam Nyxveil wishes to enjoy the rest of her years in peace?"
I didn't need to turn to recognize Empress Alancia Serena.
Draped in ivory and gold, she sat regally beside Kaelith, her gown shimmering under the candlelight. Crimson jewels adorned her crown and throat, their rich hue reminiscent of spilled blood—a fitting choice.
She regarded me with cold, unreadable hazel-green eyes, her expression unreadable yet dripping with contempt.
Of course, she would sneer at me.
Our resemblance was undeniable—silver hair, piercing gaze, regal bearing. She was my younger sister by one year, yet the chasm between us could never be bridged.
I forced a smile. "Your genius always leaves me speechless, Your Majesty, the Empress."
Alancia rolled her eyes but said nothing more.
I bowed deeply, more to avoid her scrutiny than out of obligation. "I have returned the seal and sword of Nyxveil to the Ministry of War along with my resignation letter, Your Majesty."
The murmurs intensified.
Hah. You plotted against me for years, and now you're upset that I'm leaving on my own? You are absolute hypocrites.
To my surprise, Kaelith stood up. He descended from his throne and came to stand directly in front of me.
"You don't have to bow to me, Tia," he murmured.
I glanced up, raising a brow. Tia. A name he only used when we were alone.
I tilted my head, lips quirking. "How sentimental, Your Majesty. You almost sound like you care."
Kaelith scoffed. "I do care, you insufferable woman. Who else is going to handle my problems for me?"
I smirked. "Maybe try governing your empire by yourself, Kaelith. That is your job, last I checked."
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You are impossible."
"I try," I said cheerfully.
His expression softened. "You'll write to me?"
"Of course." I paused. "Unless I'm too busy rolling in flour and baking the best bread in Wyrmhold."
Kaelith grimaced. "Tia, you burn tea. You expect me to believe you can bake?"
I gasped, clutching my chest in mock offense. "How dare you doubt my culinary abilities!"
The crowd watched, stunned. Their Emperor and the infamous Commander of Nyxveil were bickering like children. New to them but not for us.
But before I could throw another insult, Kaelith's gaze flickered behind me, his lips curling into a wicked grin.
"You know," he mused, "if you stop writing to me, I might just send a certain someone to check up on you."
I stiffened. "You wouldn't dare."
Kaelith's smirk widened.
I turned instantly, my heart lurching as my gaze locked onto a pair of familiar golden eyes.
My breath hitched.
He was staring at me. No cold avoidance, no sneering disdain. Just raw emotion—regret, longing, sadness…
Kaelith leaned in, voice low. "Tia, shouldn't you confess your feelings this time?"
I forced out a laugh, ignoring the way my heart ached.
"I'm too old for drama, Your Majesty."
But we both knew I was lying.