Chapter 54 – The Empire Plans a Future He Does Not Want
The war was over, but the Empire had no intention of slowing down.
Victory brought prosperity.
Prosperity brought politics.
And politics always demanded appearances.
The capital glittered again—renovated, cleaned, polished until it gleamed like a city untouched by blood. Statues of war heroes lined the Grand Plaza. Banners of House von Ross flew higher than ever. Everywhere, people spoke of him.
Sirius von Ross.
The boy on the Western Front.
The Empire's youngest Ten Pillars.
The world's only 9th-class magician.
The Grand Sword Master who had not lost a single battle.
They whispered his name with awe. But they did not know him.
Not truly.
To them, he was a symbol.
To his mother, he was her son.
And symbols did not choose their own future.
The Grand Duchess sat in her private receiving room, draped in black velvet and lace, sipping wine that had gone untouched for years.
She did not mourn.
She planned.
Her desk was a kingdom of scrolls, wax-sealed letters, noble family registries, and portrait miniatures sent from every powerful house within and beyond the Empire's borders.
She reviewed them all.
Lineage. Dowry. Training. Talent. Allegiances. Magic.
Not a single one was good enough.
Still, she circled names. Made lists. Crossed them out. Circled again.
Seven times she had arranged for Sirius to meet a noble daughter.
Seven times he had declined before the invitation even left her hand.
And now, with war behind them, her frustration was becoming strategy.
She summoned new painters.
Ordered new portraits.
More refined. More regal. No swords. No shadows. Just Sirius, sculpted into perfection.
She scouted venues.
The High Garden. The Chapel of Flames. The Ivory Dome.
He would marry somewhere worthy of his name.
He had time.
But the Empire did not.
And neither did she.
"Send word to House Ellorien," she told her steward, voice sharp as ever. "And House Meridein. I want their daughters presented at the Solstice Gala."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"And the tailoring commission. Increase the order. He'll need proper attire. The ball must be flawless."
She did not wait for a reply.
Her eyes drifted to the window, where the moon hung half-hidden behind winter clouds.
She scoffed.
"Romantic nonsense."
Elsewhere in the palace, the ministers moved like snakes behind silk curtains.
They admired Sirius from afar.
Feared him, too.
But they also envied the Grand Duke.
To have a son like that?
It made enemies uneasy and allies restless.
They pushed for political marriages. For appointments. For Sirius to attend summits, council meetings, imperial ceremonies.
He ignored every request.
And his father let him.
The Grand Duke said little, always watching, always waiting.
He had fought beside Sirius once—and never asked to do so again.
He alone knew the boy's silence better than anyone else.
And Sirius?
He painted.
He read old letters he never sent.
He walked the halls alone, his footfalls soft against marble.
Sometimes, he stood on the highest balcony and stared at the moon.
Not because he was waiting.
Not because he expected anything.
But because… she had always been there.
Above the Empire. Above the noise. Untouched.
The world changed around him. It would keep changing.
But he would not.
Not until she returned.
Not until her soul—once nearly lost—fully mended.
And though no one else would feel it, not the nobles, nor ministers, nor even his mother—
He already knew.
She had begun to wake.