Arkanos sat at a long banquet table, fingers lightly drumming against the armrest of his chair. Illena sat beside him, her golden eyes sparkling with mischief as she observed the array of delicacies laid out before them.

    She suddenly picked up a small piece of roasted meat, perfectly glazed with a rich, amber sheen, and skewered it with a silver fork.

    "Open your mouth," she said playfully, leaning toward him with an expectant smile.

    Arkanos arched an eyebrow. "You intend to feed me?"

    Illena giggled softly. "Is the mighty Emperor of the Bloodbane Empire afraid of a little bite of food?" She leaned closer, the fork hovering inches from his lips.

    "Or are you afraid you’ll like it too much?"

    He smiled softly.

    He then tilted his head slightly, allowing her to place the bite into his mouth.

    The moment the food touched his tongue, Arkanos’s eyes widened slightly, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face.

    The rich, savory flavor burst across his palate, perfectly balanced with small hints of herbs and spices. It was unlike anything he’d tasted before—complex, warm, and comforting.

    "This is... surprisingly good," he murmured after swallowing.

    "Where has a chef with such skill been all this while?"

    Illena’s smile grew wider, looking almost catlike, her eyes gleaming with pride. She leaned in, resting her chin on her hand as she whispered,

    "Would you believe me if I said I cooked it myself? For you, my emperor."

    Arkanos blinked, genuinely caught off guard for the first time in a long while. He turned fully to face her, studying her face for any trace of jest.

    "You?"

    Illena laughed softly, clearly delighted by his reaction.

    "Yes, me. I wanted to surprise you. I slipped into the kitchens earlier today while the chefs were busy preparing the banquet."

    Arkanos stared at her for a moment longer, then let out a rare, quiet laugh—a soft huff of amusement that made the corners of his mouth lift slightly.

    "You, sneaking around like a common servant to cook? I never would’ve believed it."

    She grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "And yet here you are, enjoying every bite."

    Arkanos shook his head slightly, a small, amused smile lingering on his lips.

    "You are full of surprises. What exactly are you hoping to accomplish?"

    Illena’s smile deepened.

    "Do you really want to know?"

    Arkanos’s lips curled into a faint, amused smile. "Indeed, so pray tell."

    Illena’s grin widened, her free hand slipping beneath the table to gently tap his lower abdomen, her fingers trailing lower. "I’m feeding you with love," she whispered, her gaze locking onto his.

    "So you can fill me up with your love."

    Arkanos raised a brow, smiling mischievously. "Such an attitude is unbecoming of an empress, my dear," he said playfully.

    Illena leaned back slightly, tilting her head with a playfully innocent expression.

    "Well, I’m not just any empress. I am your empress, now aren’t I?"

    "Can’t I make a request of my emperor?"

    "The celebration is still ongoing, but I noticed you haven’t had anything to drink. I heard you prefer tea over wine, so I brought some for you."

    Kaela hesitated for a moment before accepting the cup with a faint, strained smile.

    "Thank you," she murmured, her fingers curling around the warmth of the cup, seeking some comfort.

    She took a sip, but as the warmth spread through her chest, a sudden feeling of dizziness hit her like a crashing tide.

    The corridor seemed to tilt slightly, the edges of her vision blurring.

    Her grip on the cup faltered, and she steadied herself against the wall, her breathing shallow and uneven.

    "W-What’s... happening?" she managed to whisper.

    The maid’s polite smile never left her face, though her eyes seemed to darken. Discover more content at novelhall.Co?m

    "You must be tired, Lady Kaela. Social gatherings have never been your thing. Perhaps you should take a little rest."

    Karla’s fading consciousness slowly realized what she meant. She gritted her teeth, struggling to fight the haze clouding her mind.

    "You... did you... poison me?" she rasped, her vision narrowing into darkness.

    The maid smiled further, "Sorry lady Kaela, lord Harold believes if he is to truly succeed, he may need a little leverage over the emperor. Since he chose to turn down the invitation to Baron Malkier daughter’s wedding, things have become complicated."

    Before she could demand answers, her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed to the cold floor, the world around her fading into unforgiving darkness.

    ...

    ...

    The first light of dawn crept over the towering walls of the capital. A soft breeze carried the faint scent of dew and distant smoke, but the city remained calm, unaware of the storm approaching.

    Knights patrolled the walls, their armor clinking softly. Some leaned lazily against their spears, while others exchanged quiet words, lulled into a false sense of security by the peaceful morning.

    But then—

    "What’s that?" one knight muttered, squinting toward the eastern horizon where the faint outlines of figures appeared like dark smudges against the growing light.

    Another knight, older and more cautious, pulled out an Arcane Scope—a cylindrical device crafted from polished brass and embedded with a faintly glowing Scrying Crystal at its core. The magical crystal enhanced distant images, making them sharp and detailed even from miles away.

    The knight adjusted the focus, his breath catching as the blurred shapes snapped into terrifying clarity.

    "By the gods..." he whispered, his face going pale.

    Another knight, noticing his comrade’s expression, snatched the scope from his trembling hands. He peered through it, his jaw tightening as his knuckles whitened around the device.

    Stretching as far as the eye could see were thousands of armored knights, their banners fluttering in the wind like shadows.

    Siege engines—towering ballistae, massive trebuchets, and spiked battering rams—rolled steadily forward, their wooden frames creaking under the strain of their deadly payloads.

    The glint of countless swords and lances reflected the rising sun.

    At the forefront of the eastern army, atop a black warhorse draped in dark armor, rode Jareth, he was as imposing as the army trailing behind him.

    His red cloak billowed, and his sharp gaze pierced the distance.

    Jareth raised his hand, holding an Obsidian Communication Stone. This stone, infused with Voiceweave Enchantment, allowed spoken words to travel vast distances, carried by magical frequencies tuned to specific receivers within the capital.

    The knights on the wall heard a faint hum as the stone activated, followed by Jareth’s cold voice echoing through the air as if he were standing right beside them.

    "To the one who rules the capital," Jareth’s voice rumbled.

    "Look well upon your walls, for your time has run dry."