Saigo passed the time with exercises. Squats, push-ups for the tenth or maybe twentieth round, he'd lost count. There was nothing else to do anyway. But even through the physical fatigue, obsessive thoughts crept into his head:
First, what am I doing here? Too luxurious for a cell, a real gilded cage. Second, what are her plans? This question burned the most. Beyond the obvious a public execution for intimidation no other options came to mind. He'd have done the same in her place.
Third… will they come for me? The most agonizing question. The chance of escape was melting faster than ice in a furnace. After seeing the security measures, it seemed like an outright illusion.
Soon, "lunch" arrived. A whole procession: three three-tiered carts, groaning with delicacies roasted game, exotic fruits, bottles of wine darker than blood.
Servants in livery, under the watchful eyes of the guard, set out the treasures and quickly retreated. Saigo briefly considered making a break for it and taking a hostage.
"Useless. A waste of my last strength."
He approached the food like a sapper approaching a mine: sniffed it, broke off microscopic pieces, waited a long time. "Hmm… Well, surprise me. Where are all these masters of metropolitan treachery?"
To his disappointment, there was no poison. Unless you counted the oversalted duck and a couple of dishes where pepper overwhelmed all other flavors. "Though maybe that's a local delicacy?"
He pushed the plates away and lay on the bed. Outside, the sun was setting, staining the marble in blood-gold tones. "The day is gone… Annoying."
Of course, no one would come for him. An assassin, whoever he was, always ended the same way. On the block or in a dungeon.
Clomp. Clomp. Clomp.
Footsteps outside the door. Heavy, rhythmic. Many of them.
"Already…"
The door swung open. Not a squad a mini-army. Spears, armor, and tense faces. He had no choice. Saigo stood up, extended his hands forward. The cold steel of manacles with reinforced runes clamped around his wrists.
He felt their fear. The trembling fingers with each click of the latch. The panicked look when he turned his head. He didn't care. He knew: those who reveled in imagined superiority over an opponent didn't live long.
They walked quickly and in silence. Saigo memorized the route turns, arches, stained glass. He alternated between rattling his chains deliberately loudly and baring his teeth at the youngest guard who flinched as if stung. The guards' nerves were stretched taut.
They were genuinely afraid. And that amused him, but nothing more.
The hall assaulted him with opulence. Purple carpets, thicker than fresh snow. From the high vaults, an endless rain of scarlet rose petals fell, swirling in the sunset light filtering through the stained glass. They landed on his shoulders, caught in his hair.
In the distance, on a dais, he saw her immediately. Katarina. The very one he had "saved" from the cobblestones to his profound misfortune. And she… was glowing.
As he approached, the picture clarified:
Face: A wide, warm smile. Too perfect, as if carved from marble.
Eyes: Not a metaphor. They literally glowed from within with a soft golden light, like embers in a furnace.
Hair: Fiery-red locks trembled and writhed on their own, like live serpents, ignoring the laws of physics.
Dress: A masterpiece of a tailor's nightmare. Black and red, like a sunset over a battlefield, studded with crystals. A necklace rubies the size of pigeon's eggs. Through the slit in the skirt deliberately displayed, form-fitting scarlet stockings and shoes the color of dried blood.
Saigo walked right to the foot of the throne. The entire entourage, guards, courtiers all dropped to one knee. He remained standing, straight as a rod. No one dared even whisper.
The one leading him (apparently the guard captain), seeing the dissonance, panicked and flopped down beside him, pressing himself even lower to the floor.
"Saigo of the Cotto clan," Katarina's voice rang out like a crystal bell, filling the silence. "Raise your head."
He obeyed.
"I am Katarina the Fire Phoenix! Empress, Mistress of Fire, Mother of the First Element!" Each word fell like a hammer. She made a theatrical pause, sinking slightly into the throne's back as if preparing to pounce. "From this day forth, and for all eternity… I name you Emperor and my consort!"
She exhaled. The smile became slightly stiffer. The gold in her eyes flared brighter.
Saigo slowly took a step forward. His movement was fluid, full of latent strength, despite the manacles. He met her radiant gaze with his own empty as a winter sky.
His voice, loud, metallic-clear, cut through the ceremonial silence like a knife through silk: "I refuse your offer."
The air in the hall froze. Even the rose petals seemed to hang in their fall. The silence became thick, heavy, ringing, like a string stretched to breaking point.
Everyone froze and fell so utterly silent that one could almost hear the rotation of distant galaxies beyond the castle walls.
Katarina froze too. At first, a wide, almost insane smile illuminated her face her brain refused to accept the refusal. Then the click of realization.
Her lips twisted into a grimace, her left eye twitched like a mad pendulum. Her fingers dug into the armrests of the black oak throne.
Crack!
The precious wood splintered under her grip, the sound echoing loudly in the ringing emptiness of the hall.
The guards, servants, courtiers all, as one, instinctively recoiled. Fear hung in the air thicker than the rose petals. Backs pressed against the walls.
"Why?" Katarina's voice was an icy needle piercing the silence. She articulated the words almost syllable by syllable, drilling into Saigo with eyes where hell raged a mix of incredible hurt and pure hatred.
Saigo stood unwavering. His answer came firmly, like a stone striking stone:
"I have no need for it. And I am already married."
Inside, he had already accepted it. Prepared for the storm. For the "extremely active conversation" that was guaranteed to escalate into a cosmic-scale brawl.
"Ha-ha-ha!" Katarina's piercing, slightly insane laughter filled the hall. It didn't just sound it vibrated with magical force. Plaster showered from the ceiling and walls like fine snow. People pressed themselves into the floor. "None of that matters!" she cried out, jumping up from the cracked throne. Her figure seemed taller, shrouded in an aura of rage. "The moment you killed Kalis, you made your choice! There is no way back for you!"
"There is always a choice," Saigo parried. The air around him crackled with static. People nearby weren't just recoiling they were crawling away, sliding across the carpet.
"You...!" The scream torn from Katarina's chest was full of primal pain and fury. "You dare defy the will of the Empress?! And your mistress?!"
"I have only one master my clan," Saigo's voice was calm, but steel seethed within it. The whites of his eyes banished the pupils, taking up all available space. "Perhaps this is my last fight, and I will not disgrace the clan's honor." "Everything else is secondary."
The carpet beneath his feet ignited. Not from Katarina's flame, but from his own, crushing will. Tongues of red flame, thick as blood and hot as hell's inferno, erupted from him, enveloping his body in a living, pulsating blanket.
"Ha-ha-ha!" Katarina burst into laughter, but there was no joy in it only hysteria and wild excitement. She was breathless, almost screeching: "You want to match fire with the Phoenix?! Everyone OUT!" Her order sounded like a thunderclap. "I will bring this dog to heel myself!"
But Saigo didn't wait.
WHOOSH!
He had already torn a heavy slab from the floor beside him. The roar was deafening. With one kick of his foot, amplified by a surge of flame, he sent the stone projectile flying.
Katarina merely waved a hand lazily. The first flying shards of stone and plaster turned to dust before her, incinerated by invisible heat.
From the last, largest fragment, she simply moved her head aside with royal nonchalance.
BOOM!
The stone smashed clean through the back of the precious throne, embedding itself in the far wall of the hall, leaving behind a smoking hole with melted, blackened edges.
Dust billowed. Katarina slowly turned through the haze, her figure shimmering in the hell of her own rage. A mad smirk played on her lips:
"I think you might just entertain me, dog..."