Recent weeks had seen a surge of foreigners flooding into the Empire of Aetherlight, particularly Beijing.
The common citizens understood the reason well enough, they'd come for Lord Lioren's funeral.
None of this particularly concerned Aramaki. After all, he was no longer the Great Emperor of the Empire. Even during his reign, such matters had rarely involved him. The imperial court had kept him isolated from meaningful governance, a decorative figure on a gilded throne.
"But with Lord Lioren dead, the Empire's going to have a rough time ahead," he muttered, watching the crowded streets from his tea shop window.
As the former emperor, Aramaki had certainly dreamed of reclaiming power. Those fantasies had required him to study the major powers surrounding the Empire of Aetherlight, making him far more aware than the average citizen of the precarious position his homeland now occupied.
He simply couldn't understand why the Association had publicly announced the news. A secret funeral would have been the wiser choice, avoiding the appearance of vulnerability.
"Forget it." He shook his head, dismissing the thought. "Doesn't concern me anyway."
Aramaki pondered for another moment before giving up entirely. His attention shifted to the bowl of Beijing soybean milk sitting before him on the weathered wooden table.
As a Beijing native, he'd never actually tasted this particular local specialty, a fact that filled him with vague foreboding as he lifted the bowl.
His face remained completely blank as he took a sip of the subtly-colored liquid before setting it back down.
The middle-aged men at nearby tables, who'd been watching expectantly, withdrew their gazes in disappointment. They'd clearly hoped for a more dramatic reaction from this obvious tourist.
However, as the former emperor of the Empire, Aramaki possessed a certain cunning that prevented such easy reads.
Just as he prepared to stand and leave, a snippet of conversation from the next table caught his attention.
"Really? You know all this gossip?"
"Of course I do. My sister's son's classmate's brother is a Lore Cardian who's in charge of receiving foreign visitors. He said the arrival from the Mughal Empire down south is quite impressive."
"It can't be a Master-level Lore Cardian, can it?"
"Hey! How did you know that?"
The old man making the revelation turned to see a strange-looking man in ornate robes standing behind him.
This man was, of course, Aramaki.
Before he could respond casually, the communication device in his pocket vibrated twice, drawing his attention.
The screen displayed Lucian's name.
"What does he want?" Aramaki muttered to himself.
Although he still enjoyed Diamond-level Lore Cardian treatment provided by the Cardian Master Association, they didn't interact frequently on a daily basis.
After paying the two old men for their breakfast, Aramaki left the roadside shop.
Not long after, he found himself approaching the imperial palace where he'd lived for decades, a place that now felt both familiar and foreign.
Seeing Lucian, who appeared far more hunched and aged than he remembered, Aramaki offered a slight smile. "Master Lucian, it's been a while. What brings you to seek me out?"
Even as he spoke pleasantly, his eyes swept the room, cataloging the other occupants.
Tempest and Fujimaru were old acquaintances, all three Master-level Lore Cardians had been present during his abdication. Their faces he knew well.
However, he'd never met the young man standing behind Lucian.
Of course, Aramaki knew his identity perfectly well.
Azrael. The newly ascended Master-level Lore Cardian of the Empire, how could he not recognize the name that had spread throughout the nation in recent weeks?
Furthermore, this young man had reportedly defeated a Sovereign-level demon head-on just days ago.
Aramaki maintained some reservations about that particular claim. After all, from his understanding, Azrael hadn't been the only Master present during that confrontation. Whether the young man had truly defeated the Sovereign-level demon alone, or whether the assembled Masters had worked together, remained an open question.
Still, he understood why the Association was promoting this narrative. With Lord Lioren's death, they desperately needed a successor to stabilize public sentiment and project strength.
The young Azrael was naturally the ideal candidate.
Aramaki's emotional intelligence wasn't so low as to challenge this publicly. He simply smiled at Azrael, nodded politely in greeting, then returned his attention to Lucian.
The old Master seemed oblivious to the subtle slight, saying, "Young friend Zhu, I'm primarily seeking you out to ask if you'd be willing to attend Lord Lioren's funeral."
He paused meaningfully, leaving the rest unsaid.
As expected, Aramaki's expression shifted, his brow furrowing slightly.
The man in ornate robes instinctively refused. "This..." He hesitated. "Isn't that somewhat inappropriate?"
He was just an ordinary Diamond-level Lore Cardian now, after all.
Even as the thought crossed his mind, Aramaki understood the indelible label he carried, former emperor of the Empire of Aetherlight. For a brief moment, paranoia seized him. Were the Masters planning to renege on their promise? To trick him into some trap?
But he quickly dismissed the notion as absurd. Any one of the people present could kill him effortlessly if they chose. Elaborate deception was unnecessary.
As if anticipating his refusal, Lucian shook his head with visible regret. "Since you're unwilling, young friend Zhu, then we won't press the matter."
"I apologize for troubling you to come all this way."
The easy acceptance left Aramaki somewhat confused.
He hesitated before asking, "Master Lucian, could you clarify exactly what you'd planned to have me do?"
If it was simply attending Lord Lioren's funeral, he felt comfortable agreeing. That seemed harmless enough.
Lucian exchanged meaningful glances with the others behind him before shaking his head with a bitter smile. "I suppose we can't hide it from you, young friend Zhu."
"Originally, we were considering, if you were willing, asking you to handle negotiations with certain foreign dignitaries."
"After all, some of these individuals have sensitive identities. It wouldn't be appropriate for us to approach them directly."
Hearing this, Aramaki's mind immediately began calculating possibilities.
His lips curled slightly as he ventured a guess. "Is it the Mughal Empire?"
The question landed like a thunderbolt. The Master-level Lore Cardians, including Azrael, were visibly stunned. None had expected him to identify the target so easily.
No, it's not necessarily a guess, several minds concluded simultaneously. Silent glances were exchanged as they wondered whether Aramaki was still secretly monitoring the Association's activities.
Before they could discuss it further, the man in gorgeous robes shook his head firmly. "No, no."
"Master Lucian, you'd better find someone else."
He had absolutely no intention of confronting a Sovereign-level Lore Cardian on the Association's behalf. From everything he understood, the [Golden Emperor] of the Mughal Empire, Motian, possessed an eccentric and dangerous personality.
The senior leaders of the Association couldn't force Aramaki to do something against his will. In this regard, Lucian could only sigh quietly before turning to his disciple. "Azrael, I'm afraid I'll have to trouble you."
Hearing this, Azrael showed no displeasure. After all, including the Soul King, he was now the strongest force in the Empire.
This was precisely why they'd initially considered sending Aramaki to negotiate, a calculated diplomatic maneuver.
While everyone knew the relationship between the Association and the imperial court had been a bitter life-or-death struggle, Aramaki had publicly and voluntarily abdicated in favor of more capable leadership.
Therefore, Aramaki, this "sage" figure comparable to the legendary rulers of antiquity, represented the most suitable candidate for certain delicate situations.
He could demonstrate the Empire's respect for its premier Lore Cardians without appearing obsequious or weak. He might even subtly antagonize the Mughal Empire through his very presence, a former emperor treating their Sovereign as an equal.
However, upon hearing Lucian's original plan, Aramaki felt a sudden pang of genuine curiosity about Azrael's actual capabilities.
Honestly, after retiring from the throne, he'd begun to experience that sense of mischievous interest he'd seen described on social media forums.
And even if the [Golden Emperor] was truly erratic and dangerous, he wouldn't launch a direct attack on the Empire during a funeral, would he? That would be tantamount to declaring war.
"Master Lucian," Aramaki spoke again after a moment's consideration. "If you're willing to let Master Azrael and me attend together, I can agree to this."
He paused briefly before adding, "Of course, the primary negotiations would still be conducted by Master Azrael. I'd simply... observe."
Just as Aramaki began wondering whether he was being too presumptuous, Lucian immediately agreed. "Then it's settled."
"I'll be troubling you from now on, young friend."
The reason for the elder's swift agreement was simple. In these matters, appearances couldn't be waived.
Since Aramaki had chosen to enter this particular vortex, the consequences were beyond anyone's control, including his own.
Furthermore, setting aside all strategic considerations, Lucian would have agreed regardless.
Lord Lioren's funeral needed to be impeccable. Before the Association overthrew the imperial court, this Master-level Lore Cardian had championed the Empire as a unified nation, protecting all its citizens.
Aramaki's attendance brought the funeral arrangements to something approaching perfection, the blessing of the imperial line itself.
After watching Aramaki depart, Lucian turned and patted Azrael gently on the shoulder. "I'm uncertain what the former emperor's thinking. I'm afraid you'll need to remain vigilant during the negotiations."
Azrael nodded in understanding.
In his personal assessment, Aramaki probably didn't harbor any complicated schemes. The imperial court was finished, after all. Even if remnants truly intended to rebel against the Association and restore imperial rule, they'd need the strength to attempt it.
The only four remaining Master-level Lore Cardians in the Empire were all affiliated with the Association.
Perhaps some imperial loyalists still existed, but they clearly lacked the courage to reveal themselves under current circumstances.
It wasn't as though Aramaki would kneel before the Mughal Empire's Sovereign and weep, "I want to be emperor again so desperately!"
Unaware of Azrael's internal monologue, Lucian shifted topics. "By the way, Azrael."
"The personnel sent by Great Britain and Tsarist Russia are both acquaintances of yours, so I'll leave those two delegations to you as well."
Hearing his teacher's words, Azrael was tempted to correct the assumption, he and Leon weren't exactly acquainted, and their last encounter had involved him accidentally claiming materials the British Lore Cardian needed.
But in the end, he simply nodded in agreement. No point in making things more complicated.
The next day, Azrael waited at the palace gates for Aramaki's arrival.
Fortunately, the former emperor proved punctual. The wait was mercifully brief.
"Apologies for the delay, Master Azrael," Aramaki said as he approached. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting."
"Not at all. I only just arrived myself."
After the brief exchange of pleasantries, Azrael and Aramaki prepared to head toward the accommodations housing the Mughal delegation.
Since the Empire no longer maintained an emperor, the former imperial palace now served to host foreign dignitaries, a practical repurposing of otherwise empty halls.
Aramaki showed no resentment about this arrangement. Despite the palace's vast size, he'd exercised limited control over much of the grounds even during his reign. The former court had been too wary of him consolidating power.
For two high-ranking Lore Cardians like Azrael and Aramaki, traversing the palace grounds required little time.
Soon they arrived before the wing housing the Mughal delegation.
Azrael gestured to an Empire Lore Cardian standing guard and spoke quietly. "Inform them that Azrael of Myriad Phenomena is here to visit."
"Yes, Master Azrael."
Even though a Sovereign-level Lore Cardian occupied the palace, the Empire maintained guards regardless, partly to facilitate resolving any requests, partly for surveillance purposes.
To someone like the [Golden Emperor], such surveillance was meaningless theater. But appearances had to be maintained.
Shortly afterward, a fair-skinned young man emerged, following the Empire Lore Cardian who'd delivered the message. He arrived before Azrael and Aramaki with measured steps.
His eyes swept over Azrael from head to toe without the slightest trace of respect before he spoke in a disdainful tone. "Are you Azrael?"
Witnessing the Mughal envoy's attitude, Aramaki instinctively took a slight step backward.
He genuinely feared blood might splatter on his fine robes. After all, in his perception, the man before them was merely an Emerald-level Lore Cardian, yet possessed the audacity to address a Master with such contempt.
However, despite the blatant provocation, Azrael's expression remained utterly calm. "Lead the way," he said simply.
The envoy was merely a minor figure. Azrael didn't even register enough offense to acknowledge it.
Upon hearing this dismissive response, the pale-skinned messenger appeared ready to say something cutting. Then he seemed to remember his lord's commands. With a cold snort, he turned sharply and led Azrael and Aramaki into the hall.
As the heavy doors swung open, a chilling aura suddenly emanated from within the shadowed interior.
Glancing at Aramaki, whose face had turned visibly pale beside him, Azrael released a subtle pulse of mental energy to shield the former emperor from the oppressive pressure.
Sensing the protective barrier, Aramaki muttered quietly, "Thank you, Master Azrael."
Azrael nodded slightly in acknowledgment, then took the initiative to stride forward into the hall.
Seeing this bold advance, the pale messenger's expression shifted dramatically. He hurried after them, clearly alarmed.
Too late.
Azrael had already laid eyes on the target of this diplomatic visit.
A handsome young man reclined on an elaborate seat, head propped casually on his right hand, gazing at Azrael with undisguised interest and amusement.
At that moment, the pale messenger who'd been rushing to catch up suddenly shouted, "Since you stand before the Lord! Why don't you bow?!"
With those words, he extended his hand toward Azrael, attempting to physically force him to his knees.
Azrael observed the [Golden Emperor] Motian's complete lack of reaction, the Sovereign made no move to stop his subordinate's actions.
'So this is what they meant by "eccentric personality,"' Azrael thought, suppressing an internal sigh. He finally understood the warning.
Then he turned his head to look directly at the pale messenger.
The messenger shuddered violently under Azrael's gaze, his outstretched hand freezing mid-motion.
But pride and rage quickly overwhelmed his instinctive fear. He reached out again, determined to force this upstart Master to his knees before the [Golden Emperor].
Before his fingers could make contact with Azrael's body, a piercing scream suddenly shattered the hall's oppressive silence.
"AHHHHH!!"