The throne room resembled a massive temple. Its vastness swallowed sound, and its high ceilings made a person feel small. Chains with flaming lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a crimson glow over the floor. The ground was paved with black marble stones; every step echoed, and each echo spread unease.
At the far end of the hall, on a platform reached by seven steps, stood a throne made of a blend of gold and black marble. The owner of this throne was the new leader of a blood-crowned dynasty: Caesar.
Caesar sat on the throne. Though only 28 years old, his body was large, his shoulders broad, and his posture upright. He was about 1.90 meters tall, his stature reminiscent of a war god. His dark blond hair reached down to the nape of his neck, and a deep scar running across his forehead marked the battles he had faced in his youth but what scared people the most were his eyes , jet black and bottomless, as if carrying the soul of a demon. His vanity was obvious on his face, and his quick temper showed itself in the twitch at the corner of his lips. Questioning his orders was forbidden; even hesitation could result in beheading.
The soldier dropped to his knees. He removed his helmet, bowed his head, and spoke loudly.
"Hail to Caesar, the mighty ruler of the Alphamos Empire, born under the shadow of the god Mania!"
Caesar slowly turned his eyes toward the soldier. Frowning with disgust, his gaze swept over the soldier as if inspecting an insect.
"What news do you bring?"
"By your command, we are attacking the town of Asmanda, my lord. Its capture is only a matter of time…"
Suddenly, Caesar leaned forward, his voice hissing as it rose sharply.
"You should have taken it by now! Why is it taking so long to seize a small town?!"
The soldier swallowed hard and tried to lower his body even more on his knees.
"As you said, it is a small town… That's why we did not bring many soldiers. However, the town's people mostly consist of former soldiers, my lord. Retired but experienced… They proved tougher than expected."
Caesar stood up. His footsteps echoed on the throne's steps. As his boots struck the marble floor, the soldier flinched.
"How dare you come before me with excuses like that?! You better have taken that town by the time you arrived, or else… I will take your head! Understood?!"
His voice rang sharply through the hall. The air tensed like a drawn bowstring, and silence fell everywhere. Caesar began shouting in fury, spitting as he did so.
"Go! And tell that useless Neva this. A man who can't even take a small town! Yet he roams around calling himself the 'Great Commander'…"
"Yes, my lord."
The soldier quickly left the audience chamber. As the doors closed behind him, the silence inside felt like a cold wave following Caesar's rage.
The mighty general, Belisarius cloaked in black, stepped forward. Belisarius was known as the "Invincible General" of the Alphamos Empire. At 36 years old, his massive frame striking fear before a battle even began, enemy soldiers often considered surrendering at the sight of him. With broad shoulders, a jaw as hard as stone, and perpetually furrowed brows, he resembled a living statue.
On the battlefield, his steel armor gleamed as if the sun itself exploded upon it, and enemies grew uneasy merely hearing his name. His voice, when giving orders, was sharper than any sword; when issuing warnings, deeper than a war horn.
But Belisarius's most terrifying trait was not his strength ,it was his flawless instinct for war. He had never been defeated in a single battle. His obsessive dedication to discipline inspired both awe and fear among his soldiers. Mistakes were not tolerated; loyalty was demanded.
Once, he had been Romulus's most trusted commander. Yet when the throne changed hands, he pledged his loyalty without question to the new emperor. For Belisarius, it was not who ruled that mattered, but who held the power of the empire.
Despite his youth, Caesar had impressed him with his iron will. It did not take long for Belisarius to step out from Romulus's shadow and become Caesar's right hand. On the battlefield, he was a bull; in the palace, a silent shadow.
He did not like to speak, but when he did, his single sentence carried great weight.
"The old wolf proved to be cunning... According to the treaty, both sides had withdrawn their troops from the border, but evidently Balamir was crafty and stationed retired soldiers in the towns. Legally, it's not a violation, but it's an effective move."
Aurelius stepped forward. He was a sharp figure who ruled on a different battlefield. Though only 35 years old, his eyes carried the weariness of an old sage, and his speech reflected centuries of experience. His light brown beard was neatly trimmed, and despite not wearing glasses, he often squinted as if seeing everything from a deeper, more dangerous perspective.
Rather than fighting on the battlefield himself, his specialty was ending wars before they even began. He worked with maps, intelligence reports, and psychological analyses. He knew enemy commanders' habits by heart and could pinpoint exactly where to strike at their weakest moment. He was one of the most consulted minds in Romulus's palace.
However, when the throne of Alphamos passed into Caesar's hands, like Belisarius, he did not oppose the new order. But his motivation was different: not power, but vision. He saw in Caesar not just ambition but a grand and bloodthirsty passion for order. While some advisors bowed in fear, Aurelius saw an opportunity. His intellect could be one of the rare factors to balance Caesar's fury or so he hoped.
In the palace, he always walked around with a faint smile, but behind that smile was an unreadable expression. He was neither as visible as Belisarius nor as silent as the other counselors. He was the calm before the storm.
Aurelius began to speak in response to Belisarius, his voice lighter but tinged with a subtle sarcasm.
"We've had years of enmity after all… They're experienced too. If they hadn't done something like this, that would have surprised me even more. Besides, it was predictable that town is already a haven for retired soldiers."
Caesar spun around like lightning towards them both. His eyes blazed like fire.
"If I hear even one word of praise about that mutt Balamir from either of you again… I'll take your heads too! Understood?!"
The general and the advisor bowed simultaneously.
"Yes, my lord!"
Caesar sat back on his throne. He slammed his fist on the armrest and muttered through clenched teeth to himself.
"Let them forget peace… Now, I'm here."