The crowd was lively at the palace, even more so than usual. Tonight was different. A new regime was on the horizon, bringing change to the entire region of Stellara. But even as Mai's days as Shepherd of Stellara were coming to an end, it was always Sion who seemed to be the center of attention at all festivities.
The grand hall glowed with crystal blue phosphorescent lighting, signifying that daybreak had passed. The walls were lined with video portraits showcasing Euphoria's most fantastic moments in history. Every room served a purpose, reflecting the shepherds' vision for the kingdom.
In one of the many rooms of the grand palace, where all four shepherds resided, a crowd of drunk, boisterous aristocrats filled the air with laughter while playing a game of poker. Among them sat Sion, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit with a meticulously color-coordinated flower pinned to his lapel. He lived for poker nights—or any game of chance, for that matter. Everything in his life was controlled and calculated, but games of chance ignited a rush in his veins like few other things could after centuries of living. The excitement of the unknown was one of life's last unspoiled pleasures.
However, while Sion loved the thrill of uncertainty, losing was another matter altogether. At the table sat a few members of high society, newly of age and eager to join the shepherds' inner circle. Among them was Martin Palaris, who was winning a few too many hands for Sion's liking. When Martin claimed yet another victory, Sion slammed his cards on the table, spilling a bit of his drink onto his pristine suit jacket.
"Nice hand! How did you do it?" Sion said with a smile, though his sharp tone portrayed a flicker of irritation. A servant hurried over with a fresh jacket, identical to the stained one.
"I guess I just got lucky, my Shepherd," Martin replied, his grin wide as he gathered the chips.
"Luck?" Sion leaned back in his chair, studying Martin with piercing eyes. "I think it was more than that."
Martin's youthful exuberance dimmed under Sion's gaze. His smile wavered. The Shepherd's charm was infamous—his carefully chosen words, his disarming smile—it could seduce the most unavailable of women and deceive even the wisest of men.
"I think you cheated," Sion said, his voice laced with an unsettling calm.
The joy drained from Martin's face, replaced with panic. "No, my Shepherd, I swear—"
"Please!" Sion interrupted, raising a hand. "I'm your Shepherd. It's my duty to create a fair and balanced world for all of Euphoria, right? Don't you think I should be objective?"
"Yes, my Sheph—"
"DON'T…" Sion's voice dropped, his eyes darkening. "Interrupt me in the middle of my speech."
He collected himself, then gestured to the crowd. "What do you all think? You saw him cheat, didn't you? Or am I just imagining things?"
A roar of accusations erupted. Whether Martin had cheated was impossible to tell, but the room's loyalty to Sion was unquestionable. The kingdom of Euphoria held a mixture of adoration, respect, and fear for its Shepherds—though which emotion dominated depended on the moment.
Tears streaked Martin's face. "Please, my Shepherd! I swear I didn't! It was just luck, nothing more. Please, believe me!"
Sion leaned forward, examining Martin like a curious specimen. He was a handsome young man, poised for a bright future in the Polaris family's thriving business.
As the noise in the room subsided, Sion smiled kindly, putting Martin briefly at ease. "You know, young man, you remind me of myself when I was your age." He sighed theatrically. "Of course, I value my integrity much more than you do, it seems."
In one swift, decisive motion, Sion leapt from his chair, drew his favorite revolver, and shot Martin square in the forehead. The crack of the gunshot silenced the room. Blood splattered across the table, with droplets landing on Sion's perfectly groomed face.
He tilted his head, a maniacal smile dancing on his lips, and casually wiped the blood away with a silk handkerchief embroidered with his initials. His gaze lingered on Martin's lifeless body. "Those who cheat to get ahead have no place in this world."
For a moment, the room was deathly silent. Then the crowd erupted in cheers and bloodthirsty laughter. Sion grinned and gestured grandly.
"NEXT ROUND'S ON ME!" he bellowed, igniting another roar of approval.
The door opened, and in stepped Athos, clad in his usual black robe embroidered with a rod-and-sheep insignia. His expression was one of barely contained irritation as his eyes landed on Martin's still-bleeding corpse.
"Clean that up," he ordered, gesturing to a servant. Then, turning to Sion, he said, "A word, please?"
"Well, since you said please," Sion quipped, rising to follow Athos. The two Shepherds walked through the palace's glittering halls, their footsteps echoing softly.
"The ceremony is in ten days," Athos began. "I presume you haven't cast your ballot yet?"
"You know me too well."
"After 248 years, I would hope so," Athos replied with a dry chuckle.
They arrived at a secluded door, far from where any servant might wander.
"Day six," Sion said.
"Anything?" Athos asked.
"We narrow it down one failure at a time," Sion replied, opening the door.
Inside was a vast laboratory that starkly contrasted the palace's opulence. Scientists worked meticulously on a human experiment, their subject writhing in agony. The room was bathed in an eerie green light, and the shrieks of pain were haunting enough to chill any ordinary man to his core. But the Shepherds were no mere mortals—at least not anymore.
"Try to keep this one alive, yes?" Athos said, patting Sion's shoulder as he turned to leave.
"And cast that damn ballot," he added, pausing at the door. He turned to face Sion pointing a finger "and don't convince Victor to side with you on an ugly host."
With that, he was gone.
Sion chuckled softly, then sighed. "You're no fun, Athos."