Acryon, Acadian Empire.
The capital of the Empire was a massive coastal city built on the shores of the Galestine Ocean. Its vibrant layered terraces and stone platforms rose tier upon tier, giving the city a cascading appearance against the horizon. These were the Hanging Gardens of Acryon.
The lower districts sat near the harbor, where trading ships, fishing boats, and war galleys ca and went. Markets, warehouses, and crowded bazaars filled the area with constant activity. This was the Outer City.
Above all stood the upper terraces where nobles’ estates, arcane institutions, and libraries spread across the gardens and elevated walkways. This was the Inner City.
The Royal Palace crowned the city, overlooking the vast ocean. This was the Emperor’s residence that stood at the heart of Acryon, designed to reflect both majesty and authority.
Its golden dos shone brilliantly under the sun, and white tall spires stretched skyward, visible from nearly every corner of the city. The palace itself was built from white marble, with broad steps leading to the grand halls and courtyards filled with fountains, gardens, and statues of famous Magi.
The palace felt heavy. It was as if grief still clung to its golden dos and marble walls. The mourning of the Emperor Eritus’s death lingered in the air, not openly spoken of anymore, but present in the way servants murmured, courtiers treaded lightly, and guards stood more alert than before.
Beneath the polished surface of all that glamour and authority, there was an undercurrent of unease. etings stretched late into the night, muffled conversations echoed through the vast corridors, and more and more unfamiliar faces passed through the halls with each passing day.
Everyone could feel it... secretive plans were being laid, alliances were being forged, and most importantly, blades were being sharpened.
Though the Royal Palace still glead with wealth and power, its atmosphere had undeniably shifted. It no longer felt like what it used to be. The palace had beco a staging ground of the empire that was preparing for vengeance.
And at the center of it all was the current Emperor, the mighty Mana Core Magus, Lucian Acadia.
The third emperor stood in one of the palace’s grand courtyards, his tall and muscular figure draped in silk white robes that caught the faint sunlight. Thick blond hair crowned his head, and his golden eyes glead with hints of sorrow but also quiet resolve.
He said nothing, only gazed in silence at the marble statue before him... a monunt that seed to weigh just as heavily on his heart as it did upon the courtyard itself.
The statue was of his father, the second emperor, Gerald Acadia.
Lucian intently looked at his father’s statue for a long ti. At last, he heaved a long and heavy sigh.
"It’s been six months," he murmured as he brought the jug of wine to his lips and drank a large mouthful.
As he gulped down the liquor, he turned to look at the statue once more. His eyes teared up ever so slightly, and he mumbled:
"...And it still hurts."
Just then, the sound of footsteps approached from behind. Lucian’s sorrowful expression vanished in an instant, replaced by a mask of aloofness. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and straightened his back slightly.
He already knew who was approaching him. One was Old Ani, the renowned seer of the Acadian Empire. She was soone who had seen the reign of all three emperors of this proud empire.
The other newcor was his son, Cedric Acadia. Until recently, this man had stayed in the shadows of his siblings, quietly gathering allies and honing his strength. But his great rits in the Battle of Ravenfell thrust him into the spotlight, making him the foremost candidate to inherit the throne.
"We greet Your Majesty," said the newcors as they stood behind Lucian and offered a respectful bow.
The Emperor remained quiet for a few monts, then asked in a low voice, "Cedric, is everything prepared?"
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Cedric straightened his back, his voice firm. "Our Magi are prepared to deploy. Units will be dispatched to the three Pillars to investigate any possible ties to the Cult. At the sa ti, a larger party will be sent to Ravenfell to aid in their reconstruction."
"Good." Luican nodded ever so slightly. "The Cult thrives in the shadows. We cannot afford to make another mistake like Ravenfell. Make sure each of the three units is led by a Mana Core Magus. I want no room for failure."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Lucian thought for a mont, then added, "As for Ravenfell... give them whatever they need, whether it is to rebuild their city or to strengthen their forces. And grant Nylian access to the Imperial Treasury."
Cedric was stunned by the last instruction, but he nodded nonetheless. "I understand, Your Majesty."
"Rember, Cedric," said the Emperor as he turned around to face his son. "Every move we make now will shape the Empire’s standing in the war to co. Do not treat this as a simple deploynt. This is the first step in a much larger ga."
Cedric gave a light bow. "By your will."
"Good." Lucian nodded. "You may leave."
But Cedric... did not leave. He glanced at his father, deliberating his words. At last, he asked, "What about Adam Constantine?"
Lucian frowned. "What about him?"
The Prince gulped. "We... haven’t uncovered any traces of him. I suspect he’s no longer in Ulier. Should I dispatch agents to Nahua and Europa?"
Lucian deeply looked at Cedric, then nodded. "Do as you wish."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
With that, the Prince of Acadia took his leave, leaving behind Old Ani and Lucian standing under the shade of Gerald Acadia’s statue.
After ensuring no one was around, Old Ani cast her deep silver eyes towards the Emperor. Then, she asked in a warm and gentle voice, "How are you holding up, Your Majesty?"
"I’m fine." Lucian turned towards the statue once more. Then, he asked a question of his own, "Did you find any traces of Adam through your divination?"
Old Ani sighed, shaking her head. "Every ti I attempt to scry his whereabouts, I see nothing. The boy is shrouded in a mysterious veil that blocks every form of divination. It’s as if he were a..."
"Ghost," Lucian cut in, finishing her thought.
"Yes... a ghost," Old Ani murmured in a low voice.
She deeply looked at him, hesitation flickering in her ancient eyes. Then, she asked:
"Your Majesty, what we’re doing... is this truly the right course of action? For the first ti, my greatest gift fails . It feels as if the future itself is tainted by the Ghost’s hand, blinding to most of what lies ahead."
"If you’re asking whether I trust Constantine, then no," said Lucian, his eyes cold. "I don’t trust him at all."
His gaze shifted to the marble statue’s face, his gaze softening. "But I do trust in my father’s judgnt. And he placed great faith in his grand disciple. So yes..."
Lucian took a deep breath, then solemnly muttered:
"We move forward with Operation Constantine."
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