The envoy leader’s expression transformed in an instant—the pleasant mask shattering to reveal something cold and furious beneath.
"How DARE you raise your voice in the presence of an Imperial Envoy!" His melodic tone was gone, replaced by genuine rage that filled the throne room like a physical force. "Is this the respect Ryugan shows the Empire? Is this how you respond to the Emperor’s GRACE?"
The soldiers behind him moved as one—hands snapping to weapons, blades singing as they were drawn halfway from sheaths. The sound of metal scraping against metal filled the hall, a promise of violence barely restrained.
The envoy leader pointed at Rieran, his hand trembling with theatrical fury.
"The Empire extends its hand in friendship and THIS is how you answer? With disrespect? With INSULT?" He turned to King Ruger, his voice dropping into something dangerous. "Your Majesty, if you cannot control your own son, how can the Empire trust you to control your nation? Perhaps a garrison is exactly what Ryugan needs—to teach you proper RESPECT!"
The throne room erupted. Ryugan’s guards surged forward, hands flying to their own weapons. The Imperial soldiers pleted their draws, steel gleaming in the torchlight. The space between the two forces crackled with the potential for immediate bloodshed—a single wrong movement away from being a massacre.
And through it all, Northern watched.
He saw the calculation behind the envoy leader’s rage—the way it had been deployed at exactly the right moment, triggered by exactly the reaction he’d been baiting for. Saw how the man’s eyes remained cold even as his voice shook with fury. Saw how this entire scene had been orchestrated from the beginning.
’Masterful. He got exactly what he wanted—a provocation he can report back to the Empire. Justification for whatever they’re planning next. And Rieran walked right into it.’
The envoy leader was breathing hard now, his face flushed with apparent anger. But his eyes... his eyes were satisfied. The eyes of a man watching his trap spring shut.
"We came here in PEACE!" he shouted. "Bearing the Emperor’s goodwill! And you respond with hostility?" He looked around the throne room, at the drawn weapons on both sides. "Let it be known—let it be RECORDED—that Ryugan has rejected the Empire’s friendship. That they have chosen DEFIANCE over wisdom!"
King Ruger rose from his throne slowly, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.
"Stand down," he manded his guards. Then, to the envoy: "You came here to provoke this exact response. Do not pretend otherwise."
The envoy leader’s smile returned—smaller now, sharper. The smile of a predator who’d already won.
"Provoke? Your Majesty, I merely presented terms. Your son’s outburst, your guards’ aggression—these are Ryugan’s choices, not ours." He gestured to his soldiers, who sheathed their weapons with synchronized precision. "We are civilized people. We do not draw steel over mere... disagreements."
The implication hung in the air: Ryugan had been the first to bee hostile. Never mind that it was a response to calculated insults. Never mind that the entire exchange had been engineered to produce exactly this oute.
’He’s creating a narrative. One that will justify whatever the Empire does next. And now there’s a throne room full of witnesses who saw Ryugan draw first.’
The envoy leader straightened his coat, posure returning as if the rage had never existed—slipping back into pleasantness like a man donning a familiar garment.
"I believe we are finished here." His pleasant tone was back, though edged with something harder now. "The Emperor will be... disappointed to hear of this reception. I’m sure he’ll want to discuss Ryugan’s future more thoroughly."
He bowed—mockingly deep, mockingly respectful.
"We will return to our ships now. Unless you intend to hold Imperial Envoys hostage?" He raised an eyebrow. "That would be an act of war, of course."
King Ruger’s voice was stone. "You are free to leave."
"How gracious." The envoy leader turned, his soldiers falling into formation around him with practiced ease. But before he took more than a few steps, he paused and looked back over his shoulder.
"Oh, and Your Majesty? The Empire has a long memory. We remember our friends..." His smile was razor-thin. "And we remember those who refuse our friendship even more clearly."
They marched out, boots echoing in perfect synchronization, the crimson banners flowing behind them like rivers of blood.
The moment the doors closed, the throne room exploded into argument. Officials shouted over each other, voices overlapping into chaos. Guards demanded to know why they’d been ordered to stand down. Prince Rieran apologized profusely to his father while Roma tried to calm the situation, her voice nearly lost in the din.
Northern stood apart from it all, mind working through the implications.
’This wasn’t about tribute or treaties. This was reconnaissance. They came here to measure Ryugan’s response, to create justification, and to deliver a message.’
Submit or be destroyed.
And they’d succeeded perfectly.
What he wondered now was how exactly this fit into the larger picture—the subjugation of the entire continent that Illitis had warned him about. This was one piece of a much bigger board, and Northern was only just beginning to see the shape of it.
The King slumped back into his throne, suddenly looking older. Tired. The weight of what had just happened pressing down on him visibly.
"They’re going to invade," he said quietly, though his voice carried through the chaos. "Not today. Maybe not this month. But they will e."
Northern stepped forward, drawing attention.
Everyone turned to look at him—this outsider who’d witnessed their humiliation. The room fell silent, arguments dying mid-sentence as they registered his movement.
"Your Majesty," Northern said carefully. "I think you’re right. And I think they’re ing sooner than you expect."
The King met his eyes. "Why do you say that?"
Northern glanced toward the doors where the envoys had departed.
"Because they didn’t e here to negotiate. They came here to confirm you’re weak enough to attack." He paused. "And thanks to Prince Rieran’s outburst—no offense—they got exactly the confirmation they needed."
Rieran flinched, shame written across his face. He opened his mouth as if to defend himself, then closed it again. What was there to say?
"Then what do we do?" the King asked. "We can’t fight the Empire. Even with our defenses, even with our warriors—they have numbers we can’t match."
Northern was silent for a moment, thinking.
’This isn’t my problem. I should leave. Get my people and go.’
But even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn’t. Because the Empire wasn’t just threatening Ryugan—they were positioning themselves for continental expansion. And that meant everywhere was threatened. Including the people Northern actually cared about.
And more importantly... more selfishly.
He was curious.
’What kind of Emperor builds a machine like this? What’s he actually after? Power? Territory? Something else entirely?’
The questions pulled at him the way they always did. The need to understand. To see the full shape of the threat before deciding how to break it.
"I might have an idea," he said slowly. "But you’re not going to like it."
The King leaned forward. "At this point, Lord Northern, I’m willing to hear anything."
Northern looked at Roma, then at the King, then at the assembled officials who were watching him with desperate hope. Men and women who’d just been shown exactly how outmatched they were, now looking to a stranger for salvation.
’I’m going to regret this.’
But he spoke anyway.
"Tell me everything you know about the Empire’s military structure. Their supply lines. Their typical invasion strategies." He paused, letting the weight of the next words settle. "And most importantly—tell me about their Emperor."
Because if the Empire was ing, Northern wanted to know exactly what he’d be fighting.
Again.
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