“The Imperial Palace, in its eternal glory, is the pillar of the Empire. It is the siege of the government as much as it is the house of the Imperial family. Everlasting in its immaculate whiteness and its beautiful architecture, every king and lord of the continent is said to have stood in awe amidst its interior. The smooth marble, the mighty columns, the luminous stained glasses, the soothing silence, all inspire reverence and clarity, and embody the noble values of the Empire. The Imperial Palace can be said to be the finest work of art the continent ever harboured, and we have to thank the Second Emperor for it. May his name and memory cast an eternally radiant light upon us.

-Official travelling guide, chapter XIX”

* * *

Azcheron

“This thing again. They call it a Palace but isn't it more like a tower ?”

Erin looked at Azcheron with pitiful eyes. “Yes, yes, shouldn't you be used to it by now ?”

“How will I ever get used to the Empire's dubious naming tendencies, I wonder.”

They were at the Palace's gate, and Azcheron was observing the tremendously tall tower that was the Palace. Overlooking the city and its surroundings, it felt even more pressuring when you were standing in front of its base. What need was there to build it so high ? Couldn't a regular, large and relatively flat Palace do ?

“These people...” He sighed.

The Imperial guards at the entrance were glaring at them. Perhaps it was rude to criticize the Palace in front of the people working and living in it. Not that Azcheron cared about the guards' sensibility, but he had to be cautious not to cause an unforeseen incident before the one he actually planned.

Some high-grade butler came to welcome them at the entrance and lead them to the throne room. They passed the gates after a quick search that went without issue. Erin didn't bring her sword, she came in her knight's attire. She seemed to be hoping she wouldn't regret the decision to not come fully armoured and with her weaponry, as Azcheron had led her to believe he intended on causing a very violent ruckus. He wasn't – just a regular ruckus, that was his aim – but even then he assumed things could go wrong depending on the unpredictable character of some specific people. It would bring him enough attention for a lifetime, and perhaps angry soldiers and assassins with it...

Contrary to Gabriel, the Farril head-butler, this one wasn't talkative at all, nor was he receptive to banter. Such a poor company, and there were many floors full of endless corridors and halls, and long and high marble stairs to walk before arriving at their destination.

Guess I'll mess a bit with Erin to pass time, he thought as he searched a way to cure his boredom.

“Say, is there anything I need to know, like the important people or the different factions we'll meet ?” he asked nonchalantly.

Erin's eyes widened and she looked like she was about to hit him. “The heck ? You didn't even prepare ? What did you plan then ? Do you figure you can waltz in there and do whatever you want or something !?”

The butler turned his head and sent them a look full of reproach. Perhaps they weren't allowed to raise their voices because it would disturb... the columns ? The slabs ? There was nobody and nothing in these places, only the silence and the black and white marble decorations.

Whatever, they carried on in a lower voice. “I'm joking, I've learned everything I could before the audience, what do you think ?” he said with a perfectly annoying smile. Of course, Azcheron did his research beforehand. He was as aware of the stakes and their holders as one in his position could be. Meaning, he had found access to all the public knowledge, plus some unofficial and off the record information and rumours. He had to thank Anton and Darius for that.

There were basically as many factions as there were members of the Imperial family. “What's the name of the Imperial family, by the way ? Aestril ?” he asked.

“Eh ? Why would it be Aestril ?”

Azcheron frowned. “Why wouldn't it ? Isn't it commonplace for kingdoms or capitals to be named after the ruling family, or vice-versa ?”

“Did you read that in a book ?” Erin mocked. “The Imperial family's name is... just the Imperial family ? The same way the Empire is just the Empire.”

Ugh, this culture... No, is it that Anton's damn books are twisted, perhaps ? How mysterious.

Azcheron shrugged off these petty interrogations and focused on the audience. There was the Emperor, of course, and his high chancellor, lord Latrea. The Saint had no real way to know about their disposition, seeing as the ruler had the reputation of an imbecile, and his right hand man was notorious for being a groveller, which was in the end one of the worst possible pair. Utter chaos or foolishness, but in this case it could serve and aid Azcheron's scheme. Also worthy of attention, was the person keeping this ridiculous system from collapsing by deterring any potential threat, lady Varymiel.

Azcheron would surely attract Varymiel's deterring intentions ! She was one of the few he exactly knew what to expect from. Oh, Erin would not like that.

Next was the First Prince, an oddball. No one knew who was backing him, no one knew who was in his court – women, of course, but who ? – and, in a more general manner, no one knew much about him. Simple as that. For now, it'd be better not to bother with him, since he either was doing nothing, or he was acting in the shadows and being very good at it.

Then, the Second Prince and the Verald house. That was a complicated thing. The man backing that prince, chancellor Leopold Verald, Erin's uncle, hadn't been acting in favour of Azcheron until now. Perhaps it would change now that he was gaining notoriety, and that Erin was ostensibly involved in his ventures. Here again, there were two possible reactions from this faction.

The Third Princess and the Fourth Prince were fairly harmless. They weren't backed by any powerful house from what Azcheron had heard, so they would stand no chance against the Second Prince in the succession race.

The Fifth Princess was somewhat another worrying matter. Last in the inheritance order, but with the support of the Ravilna house she might amount to something. Whether the countess had a hand in her father's choice or not, that was once again a mystery.

If I had to sum it up, I'd say I have a lot of potential enemies, half of which I know almost nothing of the motives, power and probable actions as consequences of this audience, Azcheron concluded. Perfect environment for an uproar ! There's no way to entirely predict how it'll turn out.

He wondered how could it be that he was both happy to know half of what the future would be like, and to be unable to foresee the other half. The scheming grin probably alerted Erin.

“Do you have to do something like that ?”

“Why, of course,” he replied confidently. “These... mountain dwellers are expecting things from me.”

“Yes, but why-”

“It's not like opportunities to prove myself will always present themselves,” he interrupted her. “And there are currently too many heroes in the Empire, no, the continent, even...”

Erin waited for him to keep going.

“I need to shine in either a stronger way or a different fashion.”

When there aren't any opportunities, you make opportunities happen...

Erin didn't bother to insist. She must not have felt like arguing just before the audience. Soon they arrived at the gates of the hall. Rows of Imperial guards. The large iron doors opened at the butler's request, giving view of a large, but especially high, cylindric room. Whiteness came down from the light getting through the many stained-glass windows and its reflection against the immaculate marble. The upper floors consisted of open balconies with people watching, and on the opposite side of the hall, a sort of pyramid of stairs elevated the throne and the person sitting on it.

A quick glance told him it was the only chair in the room – everyone else was standing, even the onlookers from the balconies. On the hall's ground, important people, probably nobles and government officials, lined up behind some more rows of guards. On the stairs, a handful of richly dressed people stood.

It reminds me of our set up at the island...

Azcheron felt traces of magic at the back of the room, around the pyramid. He figured it must have been a mana barrier protecting the Imperial family. Was it these famous Magic-maids at work ?

The Emperor was sitting still, against the light, his figure casted in shadows. I see they enjoy intimidating theatrics here too, Azcheron thought. Well then, the game's on.

And he walked forward, entering the throne room.

* * *

Hadrias

The whispers came to an end as two people passed through the gates. The herald spoke in a loud voice.

“Azcheron, of the Rahal clan, and Erin of the Verald house !”

Footsteps reverberating in the now otherwise silent hall. Hadrias glanced up at his father, and frowned. The idiot man was half asleep, staring blankly at the ground, his greying, dry hair dangling from under that absurdly large and gaudy crown. Drool dripping from between stupidly smiling lips.

The emperor wasn't even able to put on the mask of a ruler anymore. Good thing his face was clouded in darkness at this angle. High-chancellor Latrea tucked his sleeve as to wake him up. Hadrias looked back at the other side of the throne room.

The two people entering came to a stop at a relatively far distance, behind rows of guards, as was the etiquette. The Second Prince took a moment to eye the duo.

The man wore his long blonde hair freely, and Hadrias raised a brow as he noticed his exotic, eye-catching robe. Is he trying to compete with the Imperial family ? He smiled to himself as he realized he was also wearing extravagant clothing. He must have been around the same age as Hadrias. Sharp, observing eyes and an annoying smirk that reminded the prince of that unpleasant hero, Oscar. The irony was that there were rumours of this man, Azcheron, having a particularly bad relationship with Oscar. Not that it surprised him...

The woman was Leopold's niece, but she clearly had nothing in common with her uncle, aside from these cunning golden eyes. She was tall, taller than Azcheron, with deep crimson hair reaching her shoulders, and she embodied elegance in that knight attire. Hadrias would admit she was a beauty, and were it not for the scars disfiguring her, she could have done very well in the Palace's court. But he could easily imagine knights and warriors being attracted by her charm and the aura of danger she gave off.

He felt uneasy as he glanced behind him, meeting the eyes of his older brother. It wasn't hard to guess what Alcidel was thinking about.

Hadrias focused on the audience itself as the herald addressed the two guests. “You stand before his majesty the Forty-seventh Emperor, ruler of the everlasting Empire. Kneel !”

After a short silence, the whispers came back again, from the balconies. Erin Verald had complied and was kneeling.

Yet this man, Azcheron, was still standing, and his grin became even wider.

Did he not hear the herald …?

No, that wasn't it. He heard, no doubt. He just refused to kneel. High chancellor Latrea spoke up. “Subject of the Empire, why do you not kneel ?”

The nobles from the balconies began to yell and shout.

“Kneel !”

“Why aren't you kneeling !”

“Are you disrespecting the Emperor ?!”

Then a thunderous voice shut everyone up. “SILENCE !”

Azcheron took one step and the thunder came again, from him. “I, AZCHERON, THE RAHAL SAINT, GREETS YOU, THE EMPEROR, AS AN EQUAL. I SHALL NOT SUFFER ANY MORE OF THIS SILLY MISUNDERSTANDING.”

No one dared to speak a word. Hadrias only noticed a subtle change in the Imperial guards' demeanour, and the Magic-maids pouring more mana into the invisible shield around the throne.

“I WAS KIND ENOUGH TO ANSWER YOUR INVITATION, EMPEROR. HOWEVER, KNOW THAT NEXT TIME I WILL NOT TOLERATE BEING TREATED AS YOUR VASSAL.”

What the heck !? Who does he think he is ? He'll get executed...

The Second Prince didn't care personally, the man had greatly contributed to the Empire's possible improvements of its military by bringing evidence that the golems were weapons, but it wouldn't do either to have the highest authority disregarded like that. Hadrias wasn't like his indifferent brother. He'd sit on that throne one day, and he needed said throne to be a symbol of might.

The Palace's court indulged in more insulting and booing. Though some people were smiling or laughing more from amusement than mockery, like that creepy countess Ravilna. But Azcheron didn't budge from his imperious behaviour.

“I DO NOT REMEMBER ALLOWING YOU MONGRELS TO SPEAK UP ! EMPEROR, YOUR PEOPLE ARE INDISCIPLINED !”

To everyone's surprise – Hadrias especially was shocked – the Emperor spoke. In a frail, tired voice. “And what right have you to behave in such fashion ? Are you not from the Empire yourself ?”

Azcheron smiled and answered in a normal voice this time. “My island isn't in the Empire's jurisdiction. We have never paid tribute, we have customs and a language of our own, and there isn't even any trace of us in your much precious history books and maps.”

Is it a taunt ? He says this as if he was mocking the tempering of historical records... Well, I can't blame it. When such flaws are so publicly known, the Empire suffers as a consequence and has to pay the price.

Lord Latrea glanced at the Emperor, who just waved, and replied in his stead. “Do you come here as a foreign representative then ?”

“Precisely so,” he answered arrogantly. From the balconies came yet again the many words of disdain. Then Azcheron carried on in an entirely different tone.

“I do not mind going to war with the Empire if this is what it takes for its people to properly respect me.” Even Erin Verald, who had kept her head down all this time, seemed like she couldn't help looking up in horror.

Her horror increased twofold. As soon as Azcheron finished his sentence, the rows of guards drew their swords and assumed combat stances, while Magic-maids and Battle-butlers jumped from the ceiling and balconies and circled Azcheron and Erin.

Despite his dire situation, the Rahal Saint was unfazed and kept on. “Although, be warned, citizens of the Empire. It would not be a war of armies, sieges and tactics. It would be over in the blink of an eye, for I would send your ruler to his grave with a flick of my wrist. Your petty magical defences and guards will not amount to anything.”

Hadrias felt cold sweat running down his nape. Sweating, him ? But he couldn't take this man lightly. Every report from the informants emphasized his ability and the danger he posed.

Azcheron suddenly let out a long laugh that echoed in the cold hall. It sounded like someone was badly mimicking a stereotypical evil laugh. But there was, without a doubt, a whole world of genuine mockery, scorn and contempt in that laugh. He eventually calmed down. “Aah... Well, well, do not be so tense. You all look very uncomfortable.”

Whose fault is that ?

“What is your goal here, Azcheron ?” high-chancellor Latrea inquired in a voice soaked with uneasiness.

“No need to brood. I don't plan to be on bad terms with the Empire today, all this frolic was just to make my position clear. I am not to be treated as a vassal.”

...'Today', he says.

“Now,” he kept on, “whatever reason you had to summon me, I do not care. If we are to discuss an important matter, please send another invitation, and give me the treatment that is due to someone of my rank. Farewell.”

And on these words, he turned around and left the throne hall, Erin Verald following him, the guards splitting away to the sides as they walked through them.