The day Emperor Magnus IV Stormhaven departed was marked by the imposing march of the imperial troops. Legions of soldiers lined up in perfect discipline as the fleets readied to set sail. Banners bearing the Stormhaven emblem fluttered atop tall masts, reflecting the power of an empire unwilling to yield any territory.
Orion watched in silence from the heights of the fortress, arms crossed and brow furrowed. He couldn't shake the feeling that his place was at the front, yet his uncle had made it clear that someone had to govern in his absence. Magnus IV trusted no one to leave the throne empty, and though Orion understood the need to maintain order, it frustrated him to be relegated to administration.
Only a few hours had passed since the emperor's departure when Orion convened the war council. Though he held the title of regent, he knew many nobles and officers still saw him as just another young warrior rather than a ruler. His authority needed to be asserted, and for that, he decided to leave the capital.
"You can't govern an empire from a throne alone," he murmured, reviewing a star map spread across his desk.
His decision was clear: he would visit some of the regions under imperial rule to see firsthand the state of his domains. He wanted to meet his subjects up close, understand their concerns, and personally assess the loyalty of the local governors.
"My lord, it's risky for you to leave the capital in these uncertain times," warned a council member.
"It's far riskier to remain blind to the empire's reality," Orion replied firmly. "If we wish to maintain control, we must understand those we govern."
His first stop would be Zepharos, a vassal kingdom incorporated into the empire generations ago. Though officially loyal, rumors suggested its ruler harbored resentment over the lack of representation in the imperial council. It was time to uncover the truth.
The Crimson Lion would not be a regent of marble, but one who walked among his people.
As Orion oversaw the preparations for his departure, his fiancée appeared before him, dressed for the journey. She wore light armor and a travel cloak, her posture radiating determination. It was clear she had no intention of staying behind.
"I'm coming with you," she said without hesitation, crossing her arms as she met his gaze with the same intensity as during training.
Orion sighed, shifting his eyes back to the maps on the table. He had anticipated this.
"It's not necessary," he said calmly. "I'm not heading to a battlefield, only to assess the vassal territories."
"Even so, it's dangerous," she insisted, stepping forward. "If you're going to see the people's reality, I should see it too."
Orion shook his head. "I won't risk you unnecessarily. Someone must stay here with Kassandro. If anything happens, I want you and he to ensure the capital doesn't fall into chaos."
She looked at him with seriousness, clearly frustrated by the decision.
"You think I'm incapable of protecting myself."
"That's not it," Orion said, softening his tone. "But if something happens to me, the empire will need you."
A long silence passed between them. Finally, she sighed and looked away.
"Do as you will."
With elegance, she turned and left the room without another word. Orion watched her leave, knowing the discussion was far from over. But for now, he had to focus on his mission.
Soon after, preparations were complete. Orion would depart with a select contingent of trusted men. As he boarded his ship, he couldn't help but ponder the consequences of his decision. The Crimson Lion was leaving the capital. And with him, the winds of war continued to blow.
Orion followed Archmage Vaelthar through the corridors of Zepharos' great floating city. At first glance, the kingdom seemed prosperous: clean streets, citizens in elegant robes, markets full of exotic goods, and architecture blending imperial design with magical elements. Yet, Orion felt that something was amiss.
"Tell me, Archmage," he said as they walked, "what does the imperial court fail to see?"
Vaelthar led him to a balcony overlooking the city. From there, he pointed beyond the gleaming walls of the capital, where the light of arcane conduits faded into the distance.
"This is what an emperor sees from his throne," Vaelthar explained. "A kingdom in order, loyal and majestic. But look beyond the walls."
Orion squinted, his vision sharpening. Beyond the city's glow, the landscape changed drastically. The outskirts were shrouded in shadow, villages barely surviving, fields withered, and structures in ruins. It was not the image of a flourishing kingdom, but of a land worn and forgotten.
"How is this possible?" Orion murmured, frowning. "Zepharos is one of the empire's wealthiest kingdoms."
"It was," Vaelthar corrected calmly. "But the war has drained our reserves. Arcane crystal production has been confiscated to supply the imperial war effort. Our mages are conscripted to serve on the front lines, and our people are left with little to sustain themselves."
A pang of discomfort struck Orion. He knew war demanded sacrifices, but he had never imagined the cost would be so high for such a crucial vassal kingdom.
"This situation was not reported to the capital," he said, crossing his arms.
"Because the imperial court counts only victories, not the cracks they leave behind," Vaelthar said, his expression calculating. "You, my lord, are the designated heir. Can you afford to ignore these cracks?"
Orion drew a deep breath. Zepharos' loyalty was vital to the empire's stability, but if the kingdom weakened, rebellions—or worse, shadow alliances with the empire's enemies—could follow.
"This must be corrected," Orion declared. "But the empire needs the resources for the war. We cannot withdraw now."
Vaelthar studied him silently before replying.
"I do not ask you to withdraw, only to see beyond the immediate conflict. An empire that only knows how to conquer but cannot sustain itself is doomed to collapse upon itself."
Orion did not respond immediately. Inside him, the warrior and the future ruler clashed. He knew his uncle would never accept reducing pressure on the vassals in the midst of war, yet if Zepharos fell, other regions could face the same fate.
"Show me more," he said finally. "I want to see the truth of this kingdom with my own eyes."
Vaelthar inclined his head approvingly.
"Then prepare yourself, Crimson Lion. I will take you where few nobles dare to tread."
Without hesitation, Orion followed the Archmage into the depths of Zepharos, ready to confront a reality that threatened to reshape his vision of the empire.
They descended hidden passages behind the grand hall, down stone stairs lit by enchanted torches burning with blue flames. As they advanced, the air grew heavier, charged with an energy that raised the hairs on Orion's arms. It was not just magic… it was suffering.
Finally, rune-etched metal doors whispered open, revealing a vast underground cavern. Orion stopped dead in his tracks.
The vision unfolding before him was horrifying. Thousands of people—men, women, even children—were gathered in what seemed like entire districts built underground. They were not houses, but makeshift structures, ruins of a past splendor, covered in mold and arcane dust. Their inhabitants wore rags, faces marked by fatigue and despair. Some bore luminous markings on their bodies, traces of drained magic.
Orion felt a knot tighten in his stomach.
"What is this?" His voice was a restrained roar.
Vaelthar looked at him solemnly.
"This is the true Zepharos, my lord. What you see on the surface is an illusion maintained by the Archmagister's magic. But here, in the depths, lies the truth. Our kingdom is dying."
Orion moved through the crowd. People stepped aside as he passed, their gazes reflecting both fear and hope. Some whispered his title: Crimson Lion. Others looked at him with resentment, as if he were just another noble indifferent to their suffering.
"The Archmagister has used his own life force to sustain Zepharos' grandeur for decades," Vaelthar continued. "But everything has a price. His body and mind are collapsing, and when he dies, the kingdom's façade will fall."
Orion clenched his fists. All of this was happening in a territory of the Empire, and not even the Emperor knew—or perhaps he did, and chose to ignore it.
"Why was this allowed to go so far?"
"Because we had no choice," the Archmage replied gravely. "If the surface population learns the truth, there will be total collapse. Chaos will erupt. And if the Empire discovers that the Archmagister failed to govern, it will not hesitate to replace him… and punish Zepharos."
Orion inhaled deeply, trying to contain his anger.
"How much time does the Archmagister have left?"
"Weeks… maybe days."
Orion turned his gaze to the crowd, to the eyes that watched him with a mix of pleading and distrust. This was not just Zepharos' problem—it was the Empire's. If this kingdom fell, others could follow.
"Take me to him. Now."
Vaelthar nodded, and without wasting a moment, guided him back to the surface, to the tower where the Archmagister lay dying in his bed of agony.
Orion crossed the grand corridors of the tower with steady steps, sensing the tension. The magic in the place seemed weaker here, as if the very structures were collapsing along with their ruler. Vaelthar led him to a chamber surrounded by ancient statues and faded tapestries narrating Zepharos' past glory.
The Archmagister lay on a bed covered with silk that had long lost its luster. His skin was pale, almost translucent, veins of arcane light running across his body like cracks in crystal on the verge of shattering. His sunken, feverish eyes fixed on Orion with a mix of resignation and curiosity.
"So, the Empire finally sends one of its own," his voice barely a whisper. "The Crimson Lion, heir to the fire of Stormhaven…"
Orion studied him carefully. This man had kept his kingdom prosperous at a terrible cost. A sacrifice anyone might call noble… yet he could not ignore the price Zepharos' citizens had paid.
"I will honor your effort," Orion said solemnly. "I do not doubt your commitment to your people or the burden you have carried all these years… but your method has condemned generations to misery."
The Archmagister let out a weak laugh, as if he had expected these words.
"And what would you have done in my place, general? Let Zepharos fall into ruin or into the hands of invaders? Let its people starve?"
Orion looked at him without blinking.
"War is reality, my lord. But I am here now to bring order."
A heavy silence filled the room. The Archmagister closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering strength, then nodded slowly.
"Then I leave it to you… if you believe there is a better path, take it."
Orion turned without wasting a second and reached for his belt, where a crystal engraved with arcane inscriptions began to glow. The chamber lit up with a blue radiance, and within seconds, a holographic image projected before him: the war hall of the imperial capital.
On the other side of the communication channel, several ministers and strategists turned to see Orion's imposing figure.
"Here, Grand Duke Orion Stormhaven, transmitting from Zepharos," his voice firm and clear. "The situation here is critical. The kingdom's prosperity has been sustained by unsustainable methods, and collapse is imminent."
Faces on the other side reflected surprise and concern.
"I request the immediate dispatch of resources and supplies to mitigate this crisis. We cannot allow one of our most important provinces to fall into anarchy."
A murmur spread among the council before a voice answered:
"Understood, my lord. Reinforcements and humanitarian aid will be sent as soon as logistics are organized."
Orion nodded.
"But make one thing clear to the Zepharos nobility," he added, glancing at Vaelthar. "I give them an ultimatum. From this moment, the governance of this kingdom answers directly to me. If I see them continue to let their people sink into despair while they maintain their lifestyle, I will show no mercy."
Silence was the only response from the other side. Finally, a voice murmured:
"As you command, Grand Duke."
Orion cut the connection and turned to the Archmagister.
"Your people will undergo changes… but they will survive. And if this kingdom stands, it will be because they learned to sustain themselves without condemning their own."
Vaelthar regarded him attentively, as if weighing his words, then finally inclined his head in respect.
"Perhaps, after all, the Crimson Lion is the leader this Empire needs."
Orion did not respond. There was still much to be done.
Orion turned to leave, but before he could take a step, a young man stepped into his path. The room fell silent instantly. Orion's guards reacted with trained reflexes, hands on their weapon hilts. The tension became suffocating.
The Prince of Zepharos, son of the Archmagister, stood firm, brow furrowed and gaze fierce. He did not kneel, did not lower his head, but held Orion's gaze with a silent challenge.
"You cannot come here, judge us, and then simply give orders as if we were subjects without will," he said, voice restrained but tense. "We are Zepharos, not mere pieces of your Empire."
Vaelthar, the Archmage, immediately stepped forward with a bow.
"Forgive my apprentice's impulsiveness, Grand Duke. He grew up in harsh times and does not yet understand the weight of imperial diplomacy."
Orion raised a hand, signaling his men to lower their guard. He looked at the young prince unflinching.
"If you defend your people so fiercely, why do you allow them to suffer the ravages of a policy that no longer works?" he asked calmly but with unwavering firmness. "It is not pride that will keep them alive, but the ability to adapt."
The young man clenched his fists.
"We have survived without the Empire's help for years," he responded fiercely. "And when you finally turn to see us, it is with threats and ultimatums."
Orion tilted his head slightly.
"I did not come to threaten, nor to waste time on empty speeches. Zepharos cannot continue like this, and you know it."
The prince drew a deep breath, restraining himself, until his father, the Archmagister, raised his voice from his bed, tired but authoritative.
"Enough… He is not our enemy."
The young man tensed his jaw but lowered his gaze out of respect. Orion did not shift his attention from him.
"If you truly believe what you say, prove it to me. Show me what you see in Zepharos that I do not."
The prince looked at him cautiously, then nodded slowly.
"Follow me, then. You will see what it truly means to belong to this kingdom."
Orion kept his stance firm as the young prince turned sharply and walked toward the doors of the chamber. Vaelthar watched the scene with a silent sigh before following, while Orion's guards maintained vigilant eyes, ready for any eventuality.
The tour led them beyond the ornate hallways of the palace, through less-traveled corridors, and down staircases worn smooth by time. Zepharos, with its majestic appearance and magical culture, hid many shadows that Orion had yet to explore.
"You've seen the court and the kingdom's friendly face," the prince said as they walked, "but that is not everything. What I'm about to show you is the reality your Empire ignores."
They passed through a massive rune-etched iron door that creaked as it opened, revealing an underground city hidden beneath Zepharos' grand capital.
Orion frowned at the sight of narrow alleys filled with citizens in tattered robes, gaunt-faced children running between makeshift market stalls, and minor mages channeling arcane energy just to light torches or purify water.
"These people are not just poor," Orion murmured, surveying the scene. "They live in fear."
The prince gave him a serious look.
"They live in fear that the Empire will abandon them, as it has before."
Orion confronted him immediately.
"That's not true. Zepharos has been a vassal kingdom for generations."
"Yes, but one relegated to the periphery. Ever since our ancestors accepted submission, we were seen as a secondary stronghold, a mere outpost for war. We are not Norathis or Velkaris, with their fleets and armies. We are a relic of a forgotten era."
Orion scanned the place, noticing citizens lowering their heads as they passed. Men and women bore arcane burn marks, others had scars from old experiments.
"What have they done here?"
Vaelthar, the Archmage, answered gravely.
"Zepharos was the center of the Empire's magical research… but failed experiments and war turned us into this. They left us behind."
Orion closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the weight of those words. It was not only war that had impoverished Zepharos. It was negligence.
"That's why they don't want our intervention… because they believe we'll only bring more ruin."
The prince nodded.
"Exactly."
Orion inhaled deeply, then spoke firmly.
"But I did not come here to abandon them again."
The young man gritted his teeth but did not reply. In his eyes burned anger… but also a spark of hope.
Orion had seen enough and prepared to return to the capital. Upon arrival, the Chancellor and part of the high council were waiting, ready to confront him. As soon as he crossed the doors of the council chamber, inquisitive eyes fixed on him.
"Prince Orion," the Chancellor began in a rigid tone, "we must discuss your recent orders in Zepharos."
The councilors nodded in agreement. Murmurs of disapproval filled the chamber. It didn't take long for them to question his actions, accusing him of acting unilaterally without consulting the council or respecting established policies.
"You sent resources without approval. You interfered in the governance of a vassal kingdom without imperial authorization," accused one of the senior councilors. "Your actions are reckless."
Orion remained firm, letting his gaze sweep across the room before replying.
"What is reckless is having ignored Zepharos all this time," his voice sharp. "Do you know what I saw? Forbidden magic used against their own people, a kingdom drowning in its own decay, citizens afraid that their emperor had abandoned them."
The murmurs grew. Some councilors exchanged uneasy glances, but the Chancellor remained unimpressed.
"Zepharos has remained stable until now. Your intervention could bring consequences you have not considered," he replied coldly.
Orion narrowed his eyes.
"The consequences of negligence were already visible. All I have done is prevent a larger crisis. I will not allow a region so crucial to the Empire to become a hotbed of rebellion just because the council chose to look the other way."
The tension thickened. The confrontation seemed to escalate, but Orion did not flinch.
"I am the regent in the Emperor's absence. I gave an order, and it will be carried out. Zepharos will receive the aid it needs, but its government has also been given an ultimatum."
The Chancellor studied him silently, as if weighing his words. The chamber doors opened with a sharp thud, and the charged atmosphere thickened further as Kassandro entered. His cold, sharp eyes swept over those present before resting on the Chancellor.
"Since when are the regent's orders a matter for debate?" he said, a mix of anger and mockery in his voice.
The Chancellor, unmoved, maintained his serene posture, though his fingers tapped lightly on the arm of his seat.
"Since the regent makes decisions without consulting the council."
Kassandro let out a dry laugh, crossing the room with slow, deliberate steps until he stood beside Orion.
"Well, how convenient. When it suits the Empire, the regent is expected to have full authority. But when it does not, suddenly the council claims its place. Where were you when Zepharos began to collapse? Or when Orion had to take the reins to prevent a crisis?"
The nobles murmured among themselves, uneasy. The Chancellor narrowed his eyes but kept his voice firm.
"Zepharos remains under control. What the regent did was an unnecessary show of power."
"Unnecessary?" Orion finally spoke, grave but cutting. "What I saw in Zepharos was not the reflection of a prosperous vassal kingdom, but a land on the brink of collapse, suffocated by the shadows of our own administration. I did not have time to wait for this council's deliberation."
The Chancellor met his gaze but did not immediately respond.
Kassandro clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. He exhaled with frustration and looked at the councilors with obvious disdain.
"This is not a game of words or a matter of pride," he said sharply. "Orion acted with the authority granted to him. Zepharos was on the brink of collapse, and you, in your comfort, prefer to question his decision rather than face the reality."
The murmurs grew, but no one dared answer immediately. Orion held the Chancellor's gaze, then swept the others with unwavering calm.
"If anyone here believes my orders were a mistake, speak now. But do so with a solution in hand, not empty reproaches."
Silence was their only response.
Kassandro let out a dry laugh, turning to Orion with an ironic expression.
"Looks like the council has lost its voice when it comes to action."
Orion did not smile. Instead, he looked back at the Chancellor with a stern gaze.
"My orders stand. Zepharos will receive the aid it needs, but it will also comply with the ultimatum given. This is non-negotiable."
The Chancellor clenched his jaw but nodded stiffly.
"As you command, Regent."
Orion held his gaze a moment longer before turning and leaving the chamber with steady steps. Kassandro followed, leaving behind a room full of nobles who, though silent, were clearly displeased.
Later, Orion returned with Kassandro to his chambers. The tension still weighed on his shoulders, but he needed a moment to gather his thoughts. A servant approached silently, bowing before offering a cup of spiced wine. Orion took it without a word, turning it between his fingers as his gaze drifted toward the dim glow of the oil lamps.
Kassandro watched him for a moment before speaking.
"That was close," he murmured, leaning against the wall with arms crossed. "For a second, I thought you might make a decisive move immediately."
Orion exhaled before taking a sip.
"If I had, it would have been too quick for them. I prefer to watch them writhe in their own poison."
Kassandro let out a brief laugh, but his expression turned serious again.
"The Chancellor won't let this pass. You challenged his authority before the entire council."
Orion set the cup on the table with a light tap.
"It is not his authority I must worry about, but the Empire's stability. What I saw in Zepharos is only a glimpse of what is happening in other regions. If we keep ignoring reality, this war will destroy us from within before our enemies even try."
Kassandro nodded slowly, considering his cousin's words.
"So, what will you do now?"
Orion stood, walking to the window where the lights of the capital shimmered in the night.
"Whatever is necessary."
Shortly after, his fiancée, Thessalia Stormhaven, arrived to speak with him privately. She wore a dark dress of light fabric, but her poise was as always: firm, confident, with the elegance of someone who owed her place in the Empire to no one but herself.
"What you did was right," she said, crossing her arms as she studied him. "It's just that I don't know how well it will serve you to lose popularity with the council."
Orion sighed, looking out the window at the imperial city and its golden towers. The Empire, he thought, was built on conquest, not words.
"I don't care about the council," he growled, resting a hand on the table edge with impatience. "All of them have never set foot on a battlefield, yet they believe they have the right to decide the Empire's fate."
Thessalia exhaled lightly and stepped closer.
"That is the problem, Orion. You can despise them as much as you like, but power is not held with the sword alone. Politics is a different battlefield, and whether you like it or not, it is one you must learn to navigate."
He looked at her sideways, jaw tense.
"I am not a politician. I do not want to be one."
Thessalia held his gaze, undaunted by his tone.
"But you are the heir to the Empire, like it or not. And if you keep acting only as a warrior, they will devour you before you even sit on the throne."
Orion remained silent. Not because he had no answer, but because deep down, he knew she was right. Admitting it was another matter entirely.
Days passed, and Orion had fully immersed himself in the Empire's administrative tasks. It was not something he enjoyed, but he understood that for now, ruling meant not only leading armies but also maintaining order within his own domains.
He devoted himself to reviewing reports from generals, discussing strategies with councilors, and signing decrees for the maintenance of the most distant provinces. Yet, bureaucracy exasperated him. Too many empty words, too many men worried about preserving their position at court instead of addressing the Empire's real needs.
One afternoon, feeling the need to clear his mind, he decided to walk the outskirts of the imperial city without ostentatious escorts or announcements of his presence. He wore a simple tunic, though his poise and dark hair marked him as someone of high rank. Kassandro accompanied him, along with a small group of discreetly dressed soldiers.
As they approached the outskirts, Orion noticed a group of villagers gathered in front of one of the palace's side gates. There were about twenty people, mostly elderly men and women, dressed in worn clothing. A tense atmosphere hung over the area, and before he could assess further, he witnessed members of the Imperial Guard pushing them away.
"Step back!" roared one of the guards, a burly man with a scar on his cheek. "You have no right to be here!"
An old man fell to the ground with a heavy thud, his staff rolling away, and a woman tried to help him as the soldiers continued shoving.
Orion frowned and, without hesitation, gestured to Kassandro.
"Find out what's going on."
Kassandro nodded and stepped forward, speaking firmly. One of the imperial guards immediately recognized him and straightened his posture.
"My lord, they are merely commoners causing a disturbance. Nothing here requires your attention."
Orion had only advanced a few steps when one of the villagers, a man of about forty, raised his voice.
"Please! We just want to speak to someone! My son… my son died in the war, and we haven't even been given his body!"
Orion stopped dead in his tracks. The murmurs swelled, and a name stood out: Galen Voskar.
The name was not unfamiliar. Galen Voskar had been a soldier in the Crimson Legion, one of the Empire's elite regiments. He had distinguished himself in battle in the Black Isles, fighting against rebel forces that harassed the southern frontier.
Orion narrowed his eyes and looked at Kassandro, who understood the order without words.
"Bring me anyone who has information about this," Kassandro commanded the guards.
Before the soldiers could move, a dry, condescending voice rang out behind them.
"No need, Grand Duke."
Orion noticed the presence of several members of the Noble Council, including Duke Castor Velian, a middle-aged man with neatly combed dark hair, wearing a blue tunic adorned with a golden eagle on silver.
"They are simple peasants," Velian said with disdain. "There's no reason to heed their complaints. Better to ignore them and have the Guard disperse them. We cannot allow the common folk to believe they can demand audiences whenever they please."
Orion's gaze froze on him.
"They say their son died in service."
Velian sighed, as if the conversation bored him.
"Thousands of soldiers die in service. That is the price of war."
"…And they demand his body."
"The bodies cannot always be recovered," Velian replied indifferently. "Besides, the bureaucracy is clear in these matters. Compensation for fallen soldiers is issued when the administration decides. We cannot change procedures just because a handful of peasants cry louder than others."
Orion felt a surge of anger. Galen Voskar was not just a peasant; he died fighting for the Empire. Men like him deserved at least that their families receive what was owed.
"Bring them to the main hall," he ordered immediately.
Velian frowned.
"That is unnecessary, Grand Duke. It makes no sense…"
Orion ignored him and advanced. Within minutes, the villagers were brought to a private audience in the meeting hall. They were allowed to brush off some of the dust from the journey, though their discomfort was obvious. Kassandro remained at their side, silent but watchful, while Velian and other council members observed with disdain.
Galen's father, a man with graying hair and a face etched with fatigue, was the first to speak.
"My son served with honor, my lord," his voice trembled but his resolve was firm. "He died in the war, and we were told we would receive the compensation due for his service. Months have passed, and we haven't received a single coin. We only want what was promised… and to bring his body home."
Orion remained silent for a moment before turning to one of the administrators responsible for military records.
"Why hasn't the compensation been paid?"
The man, a thin-faced scribe with evasive eyes, swallowed before replying.
"There have been… delays in payments for some regiments, my lord. Funds were reassigned to maintain the war effort at the front…"
"So we steal from the dead to keep fighting?" Orion interrupted, his tone icy.
The scribe paled. Velian immediately intervened.
"Resources are limited, Grand Duke. We cannot waste them on minor matters while the Empire is at war."
Orion looked him straight in the eyes.
"A man who gives his life for the Empire is not a 'minor matter.'"
Silence enveloped the hall. Orion rose from his seat and stepped forward, standing before Galen's family.
"They will receive full compensation for their son immediately. And if his body can be recovered, I will see to it that it is brought home."
The old man's eyes filled with tears. His wife sobbed, covering her mouth with her hands.
Velian exhaled irritably.
"This will set a precedent, Grand Duke."
Orion's gaze pierced him.
"Yes. Let it be known that the Empire does not forget those who die for it."
With those words, the audience ended. But Orion knew this would not stop here. There were too many men like Galen Voskar, too many families waiting for justice. And he would make sure they received it.
Shortly after the matter of compensation for Galen Voskar's family had not yet been fully resolved, a soldier of the Imperial Guard approached Kassandro with firm steps, his face tense and bearing an expression that promised nothing good.
"My lord, an urgent message for the Grand Duke."
Kassandro took the sealed scroll and unrolled it with a swift gesture. His eyes scanned the lines rapidly, and his expression immediately hardened.
Orion, still in the main hall with the villagers and the nobles of the council, noticed his cousin's reaction at once.
"What is it?" he asked, his tone grave.
Kassandro didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stepped forward and handed him the scroll.
"Read it yourself."
Orion took the document, and as he did, a strange heaviness seemed to settle over the room. His eyes moved over the handwriting, and with each line he read, his expression darkened further.
The message detailed an incident in the region of Caeloria, one of the empire's most prosperous areas, home to wealthy merchant families, high-ranking officials, and minor nobles who controlled much of the capital's wealth. A young noble, Alethius Marcellus, son of Duke Gaius Marcellus, had been accused of abusing the daughter of a villager and then refusing to take responsibility for the resulting pregnancy.
Orion closed his eyes for a moment, feeling anger boil inside him.
"Who reported this?"
"The governor of Caeloria received the complaint directly from the affected family," Kassandro replied. "The young woman's mother brought the case to the local authorities, but the officials tried to cover it up to avoid scandal. When rumors began to spread, the governor was forced to draft this report and send it directly to the capital."
Orion let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his face, trying to contain his growing frustration.
"Tell me the bastard Marcellus is at least in custody."
Kassandro shook his head.
"No. He is protected by his family's influence. His father, Duke Gaius Marcellus, has many allies on the council. Not only has he denied any accusations against his son, but he has also pressured for the matter to be dismissed for 'lack of evidence.'"
A chill ran down Orion's spine. It was not the first time he had heard of corrupt nobles using their influence to evade justice, but this case was particularly vile.
"Who is the young woman?" he finally asked, his voice tense.
Kassandro reviewed the scroll again.
"Elyana Tarquin, daughter of Marek Tarquin, a spice merchant and artisan in Caeloria. She is not noble, but her family is influential in the regional economy. According to the complaint, Elyana was attacked over three months ago, but fear and pressure from the Marcellus house kept her family silent until now."
Orion slammed the scroll onto the table. The council nobles, still in the hall after the villagers' audience, exchanged uneasy glances. They knew what they had just read was not a trivial matter.
Duke Castor Velian, who had shown disdain for the commoners moments earlier, was the first to speak.
"Grand Duke, this is… a delicate matter."
Orion lifted his gaze coldly.
"I see nothing delicate about it, Velian. It's a crime."
The duke clicked his tongue as if the conversation bored him.
"He's the son of a duke. We cannot allow a scandal of this magnitude to endanger the stability of our relations with Caeloria's nobility."
Orion clenched his fists tightly.
"What endangers the empire's stability is a noble committing atrocities with impunity."
Velian raised an eyebrow, his tone growing sharper.
"And what do you suggest, Grand Duke? That we make a public demonstration of justice and humiliate one of the capital's wealthiest houses?"
"Exactly."
Silence filled the hall. One of the councilors, Lord Regulus Varro, an elderly man known for his measured voice and analytical demeanor, intervened with a distinctly diplomatic tone.
"We understand your position, Grand Duke, but consider carefully. If you take drastic actions against Duke Marcellus, you will gain a powerful enemy within the council."
Orion leaned forward on the table, his gaze full of anger.
"If the empire cannot punish its own nobles for crimes like this, then we are no different from the barbarians we claim to civilize."
Murmurs spread among the nobles. Some nodded cautiously; others avoided his eyes.
Kassandro crossed his arms and spoke with casual calm, though there was a dangerous edge to his voice.
"If we let this pass, the only message we send is that the nobility can do whatever they please with no consequences. And personally, that seems like a rather stupid message."
Velian huffed, annoyed.
"And what do you propose then, Grand Duke?"
Orion straightened, his expression hardening further.
"I will travel to Caeloria personally. I will interrogate Duke Gaius Marcellus and his son. And if I find the slightest evidence that this is true, Alethius Marcellus will face an imperial trial."
Velian let out a dry laugh.
"You can't be serious…"
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
Silence returned to the hall. Orion took a deep breath and looked at Kassandro.
"Prepare the Crimson Guard. We depart in the morning."
Kassandro smiled with amusement.
"This will be an interesting journey."
Hours later, in his private quarters, Orion discussed the matter with Thessalia. She listened without reaction, fingers intertwined.
"So you plan to make this public."
"Yes. I cannot allow it to be covered up."
Thessalia sighed, staring at him.
"That is exactly what Duke Marcellus wants. If you confront him directly, you will only reinforce his power by making him an open enemy. Instead…"
Orion frowned.
"Instead, what?"
She leaned slightly toward him.
"Force him to accept the scandal privately. Have his son pay a dowry to the Tarquin family, marry the girl, or at least support her and the child she carries. If you bring him to trial, it becomes a political war. If handled in secret, you bend him without giving him room to rebel."
Orion fell silent, considering her words.
"If you let him live with humiliation," Thessalia continued, "you do not gain an enemy. You gain a noble indebted to you."
Orion took a deep breath. He didn't like it, but he had to admit it was a clever move.
"Tomorrow we travel to Caeloria. But not to punish Marcellus… to tame him."
The journey to Caeloria was executed efficiently. Orion felt a tense buildup during the trip, accompanied by a select group of the Crimson Guard—trusted individuals fully aware of the importance of their presence. Kassandro was also part of the retinue, maintaining a relaxed demeanor despite the serious mission, as if dealing with the usual intricacies of imperial nobility.
Upon arriving in Caeloria, they found a city appearing calm. Wide streets and bustling markets reflected the region's wealth, but Orion noticed the merchants' furtive glances and the stiffness of the local guards. Everyone knew why he was there, and although most citizens dared not speak the incident aloud, the rumor had already spread.
They arrived at the Marcellus Palace, an imposing fortress adorned with marble columns and banners displaying the silver eagle insignia, symbol of House Marcellus. In the throne hall, Duke Gaius Marcellus—a burly man around fifty, his face marked by time—awaited with his wife and other local nobles.
"Grand Duke Stormhaven," Gaius said, his tone carefully measured. "It is an honor to welcome you to our humble abode."
Orion stared at him, returning no courtesy.
"You know well why I am here, Gaius."
The duke inclined his head in a slight bow, but in his eyes, a barely concealed flash of resentment lingered.
"I have heard the rumors, my lord. They are… unfortunate."
Orion let out a small snort.
"They are not rumors. They are facts. And I am here to correct them."
The nobles exchanged tense glances. Gaius, without losing composure, extended an arm in a gesture of false hospitality.
"Of course. We trust your judgment fully, Grand Duke. We can discuss this in private."
Orion said nothing, allowing himself to be guided to a more discreet room within the palace, accompanied by Kassandro and some of his men.
Inside, a young man of about twenty stood waiting. Alethius Marcellus, the duke's son, had a slender build, not from lack of training but because a fragility lingered in his demeanor. His face was pale, posture rigid, hands trembling slightly.
Orion looked at him with contempt. He could recognize cowards when he saw them.
"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" he asked coldly.
Alethius swallowed.
"I… I—" His voice was barely a whisper. "It wasn't like they say…"
Orion felt rage boil in his veins. He stepped forward, closing the distance until the young man felt his presence as a heavy shadow.
"Look me in the eyes and tell me you did not do what you are accused of," he commanded.
Alethius raised his gaze with difficulty. His lips parted, but no words came out. His eyes betrayed the fear of a man who knew he had no escape.
Orion clenched his jaw and turned to the duke.
"Your son is a coward and a criminal. Under other circumstances, I would have him hanged in Caeloria's square as a warning."
Gaius frowned but maintained a conciliatory tone.
"Grand Duke, my son committed… a youthful mistake. But we cannot let this destroy our family's or the region's stability. I am willing to make amends."
Orion smiled bitterly.
"Of course you are. Because you know that if this goes public, your house would be ruined."
The duke did not deny it. He simply waited.
Orion inhaled deeply. Thessalia's words echoed in his mind: "Do not make an enemy when you can create a subject."
He turned once more to Alethius.
"You will do exactly as I order, and this matter will be buried. If you refuse, I will make the whole empire know what you did. And believe me… what the courts would do is far worse than any punishment I could imagine."
Alethius nodded frantically, hands sweaty and trembling.
"Whatever… whatever is necessary, my lord…"
Orion turned to Gaius coldly.
"Your son will pay a dowry to the Tarquin family. A generous sum, enough that they never need depend on anyone. He will also provide for Elyana and her child. If she agrees to marry him, her position within House Marcellus is guaranteed. If not, she will still be maintained with all the rights of a noblewoman."
Gaius nodded slowly.
"That… is an acceptable solution."
Orion said nothing immediately, his face rigid, jaw tight with barely contained rage. He hated these arrangements. He hated that the young man before him would leave alive when, in his opinion, he should pay with blood. But this was the difference between a warrior and a ruler. Orion had to think like what he was: the heir of the empire.
He approached Alethius again, staring with such intensity that the young man froze.
"If I hear your name in anything remotely like this again…" He leaned slightly closer, letting his voice drop to a chilling whisper. "…I will execute you!"
Alethius nodded quickly, not daring to lift his head.
Orion straightened and looked at the duke.
"This matter is closed. I want no further word of it."
Gaius, though his expression was stern, gave a slight bow.
"I appreciate your wisdom, Grand Duke."
Orion said nothing, turning to leave. As he walked through the palace halls, Kassandro watched him from the corner of his eye, a faint smile on his lips.
"You restrained yourself."
Orion snorted, not stopping.
"Don't give me too much credit. If that bastard had opened his mouth the wrong way, I would have killed him here and now."
Kassandro laughed, amused.
"But you didn't. And that is what will make them fear us more than if you had executed him."
Orion said nothing, continuing onward, jaw tight, heart pounding with fury. This was not the kind of justice he wanted to deliver. But it was the justice the empire needed.
Night fell over Caeloria, covering forests and fields with a shroud of shadows. After the intense day at the Marcellus palace, Orion and his retinue chose to stay in a cabin prepared for their rest. Not a simple hut, but a sturdy wooden structure, with spacious rooms to house the Crimson Guard and attendants.
Kassandro, ever cautious, organized the watch. He disliked the atmosphere of Caeloria—too many averted glances, too much tension in the air. No matter how humble Duke Marcellus appeared before Orion, his pride had been trampled, and a humiliated man is always a risk.
"Double guard at the entrance and around the perimeter. No one enters or leaves without my permission," Kassandro ordered, adjusting the quiver on his back. The soldiers nodded, taking positions among the trees and securing every access point to the cabin.
Orion, for his part, felt the weight of the day on his shoulders. Though it had not been a battle physically, his mind was exhausted. Politics always left him with a feeling of disgust, as if drowning in a mire from which he could never fully cleanse himself.
He decided he needed to clear his head. He stepped out of the cabin, leaving behind the warmth of the fire and the murmurs of the soldiers inside. Outside, the forest creaked with the sounds of night, and the cool air helped clear his mind.
He walked a little further to a small stream that reflected the moonlight among the rocks. He urinated on a nearby log, then approached the water to wash his face and neck. The cold water returned some clarity, though exhaustion still weighed on his muscles.
Then he felt it. A chill ran down his spine. He was not alone. He lifted his gaze, scanning the surroundings, but the forest remained still. The trees whispered with the wind, and the river murmured constantly.
Orion took a deep breath and bent down to wash his face again.
It was at that moment, as his gaze fixed on the water, that he saw it. The reflection of a shadow behind him. His body reacted before his mind could catch up. Instinctively, he grabbed a stone with his right hand and spun violently, hurling it directly at the attacker's face.
A sharp thud echoed in the air as the stone struck the assassin's skull, making him stagger. But Orion had no time to think; from the underbrush, three more men emerged, all dressed in black, daggers gleaming in the moonlight. It was an ambush.
Orion, unarmed and half-naked, didn't hesitate. The first assassin lunged at him with a knife raised high. Orion blocked the strike with his forearm, enduring the shallow cut the blade left on his skin. He then spun on his axis, grabbed the attacker's wrist, and snapped it with a sharp movement. The assassin let out a muffled scream before Orion delivered a brutal knee to the face, breaking his nose and putting him out of action.
There was no time to celebrate. The other two lunged simultaneously. One tried to stab him in the side, but Orion twisted his torso and caught the assassin's arm, using it as a shield against the third attacker's strike. The enemy dagger sank into the first man's chest, who let out an agonized scream before collapsing.
Seizing the moment, Orion grabbed the bloodied blade and drove it into the second attacker's neck, cutting his throat in a single motion. Only one remained.
The last assassin, witnessing the carnage, attempted to flee, but Orion reached him in two strides and grabbed him by the neck, slamming him violently to the ground.
"Who sent you?" he growled, breathing heavily.
The man, face slick with sweat and blood, said nothing.
Orion lost patience. He stomped hard on his right arm, breaking it instantly. The assassin's scream tore through the night's calm.
Inside the cabin, Kassandro raised his head as soon as he heard the commotion.
"The prince!" he ordered immediately, grabbing his bow and rushing outside.
The soldiers mobilized instantly, but just as Kassandro crossed the doorway, he saw two shadows moving among the trees. Without hesitation, he released the first arrow with lethal precision, piercing one attacker's throat. The second tried to flee, but Kassandro's next shot struck his thigh. The man stumbled, screaming in pain, but managed to get up and disappear into the underbrush.
"Damn it!" Kassandro cursed, launching into pursuit, but the forest was too dense. The assassin escaped.
Meanwhile, the soldiers reached Orion. They found him covered in blood, a corpse at his feet, and another man still groaning on the ground with a shattered arm. The Crimson Guard formed a defensive circle around the prince, swords drawn and shields ready.
"My lord, are you all right?!" asked one of the captains.
Orion, chest heaving and knuckles still bloodied, shot them a look of contained fury.
"Find the one who escaped. I want to know who sent them."
The soldiers dispersed immediately, torches illuminating the darkness as the hunting dogs began tracking. Kassandro arrived shortly after, bow still in hand, brow furrowed.
"One got away," he reported, visibly irritated. "But he won't get far."
Orion ran a hand through his hair, trying to control the adrenaline still coursing through him. This had not been a simple attack. It had been a failed execution. He lifted his gaze and looked at Kassandro with a dangerous expression.
"Find out who it was. Because when I do…" He paused, jaw clenched from tension. "…I will make them regret not killing me tonight."
At dawn, the region was plunged into silent chaos. The news of the assassination attempt on Orion Stormhaven had spread like a wildfire, and although most of the attackers had been slain, one had managed to escape. Despite the soldiers' efforts to track him, the assassin seemed to have vanished into the vastness of the night.
Meanwhile, the wounded prisoner lay in a dark room of the cabin, hands bound, blood still staining his clothing. His breathing was erratic, and at times, it seemed he clung to life only by sheer force of will. Orion was not willing to let him die without answers.
"Bring a healer," he ordered firmly. "This man will live long enough to tell us who sent him."
As the soldiers unfastened the prisoner's collar to better examine his wounds, a dark tattoo was revealed on his skin: a mark familiar to those acquainted with the empire's darkest corners. An emblem etched with cruel precision: the insignia of the Silent Hand, a guild of mercenary assassins whose contracts only those with power and influence could afford.
Orion needed no explanation. He knew what it meant. Someone with resources in the highest spheres had sent these men.
The atmosphere grew even tenser when a column of riders appeared on the horizon, advancing rapidly toward the region. It was Duke Gaius Marcellus, accompanied by his personal guard and closely followed by the local governor. Both had been informed of the attack on the prince and had come with reinforcements. The horses' hooves struck the ground with a somber cadence as they approached.
As soon as they arrived, the governor dismounted with a worried expression, but before he could speak, Kassandro drew his sword in a swift, defiant motion, placing himself in front of the duke.
"You treacherous bastard!" he spat, pointing at Gaius with the tip of his blade. "This is no coincidence. You tried to kill the prince and now come with more troops to finish the job!"
The duke's officers reacted immediately, drawing their weapons to protect their lord. Orion's soldiers did the same, and for a brief yet eternal moment, the tension became a rope stretched to its breaking point.
The governor raised his hands in a gesture of mediation. "Stop! This doesn't have to end in bloodshed!"
Gaius Marcellus, face hardened but composed, raised his voice over the tumult. "I swear on my honor I have nothing to do with this! I would never raise a hand against imperial blood!"
Kassandro, however, did not yield. He stepped closer, jaw clenched, fury burning in his eyes.
"Your honor means nothing if the prince is dead!" he roared. "Tell your men to lower their weapons and submit to imperial authority, or you will be declared a traitor!"
Orion watched from the shadows of the cabin's doorway, analyzing every move, every word. He didn't stop Kassandro immediately. Part of him wanted to see the duke betray himself, to watch his fear transform into an excuse that would justify the execution he longed to deliver.
But Gaius Marcellus did not falter. His men looked to him, waiting for his signal, and with calculated dignity, he raised a hand to order them to lower their weapons.
It was then that Orion decided to intervene. He walked slowly toward the center of the confrontation and, with a sharp irony, spoke in a tone almost like a whisper, yet it rang like thunder in the square.
"Come now, Kassandro… don't be so hasty," he said, with a half-smile that did not reach his eyes. "I'm sure the duke has come solely to offer us his assistance."
Gaius clenched his teeth at the venom in those words. Orion stopped just steps from him, looking at him with a gaze as heavy as a judge about to deliver a sentence.
"Isn't that right, Duke?"
A tense silence settled between them, broken only by the soldiers' ragged breathing, still alert. Finally, Gaius Marcellus inclined his head slightly.
"Of course, Your Highness. I only seek to serve the empire."
Orion held his gaze for a long moment, as if deciding whether to spare his life. Then, without another word, he turned on his heels and walked back to the cabin.
"Leave this matter here," he ordered passing Kassandro. "We have more important things to attend to."
And with that, the tension dissipated, but the silent war between Orion and the duke was far from over.
As soon as the confrontation between Kassandro and Duke Gaius Marcellus subsided, the latter wasted no time in taking action. With a wave of his hand, his men deployed strategically around the area, forming a security perimeter.
"We cannot allow another attack," said the duke gravely. "If the Silent Hand was hired to eliminate the prince, they could try again."
Orion did not argue. Although he distrusted Marcellus, he knew that more troops could deter potential assassins.
He entered the cabin alongside the duke and the governor, where the prisoner lay dying, creating a tense and wary atmosphere. The governor was the first to speak, conciliatory in tone, though the unease in his voice was evident.
"It's uncommon for the Silent Hand to fail a mission. If this man is alive, it means they were in a hurry to kill you without worrying too much about escape."
Orion crossed his arms, eyes fixed on the prisoner.
"Or it means they underestimated their enemies."
Gaius Marcellus let out a dry laugh. "I doubt they are that reckless. This is something bigger."
Orion said nothing. He simply leaned over the prisoner, whose face was covered in sweat and dried blood. The man breathed with difficulty, life slipping away little by little. Yet as Orion approached, he saw the assassin's lips move faintly, as if trying to utter a name.
The governor stepped closer, straining to hear. "He's trying to speak…"
Orion grabbed him by the collar of his torn tunic, forcing him to look up.
"Who sent you?" he asked, voice icy.
The assassin gasped, his throat rasping as if every word cost him unbearable effort. His lips parted slightly, and a whisper escaped:
"The name is…"
But in that instant, the mark on his neck glowed with an unnatural light. Orion barely had time to notice the strange radiance before something impossible happened. A sharp crack echoed in the room, followed by a visceral explosion.
The assassin's head blew apart as if an invisible force had burst it from within. Blood, fragments of bone, and tissue splattered across the floor and the clothes of those present.
The governor recoiled, horror written across his face, mouth agape in a stifled scream. Gaius Marcellus, though a man hardened by war, frowned and turned away, visibly disturbed.
Orion, however, remained unmoved. Blood dripped from his cheek, yet his eyes showed neither disgust nor surprise. Only a murderous impatience. He clenched his fists.
"Damn it…"
Now he understood why the Silent Hand never left loose ends. This was no ordinary assassin. The mark on his neck was not merely a symbol of affiliation… it was a defensive mechanism, a death seal programmed to prevent the revelation of their contractor.
Gaius was the first to break the silence. "So even torture wouldn't have worked…"
The governor ran a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the blood as he composed himself.
"This confirms something…" he said, voice trembling. "The Silent Hand only accepts high-profile contracts. Whoever paid for the prince's assassination has power and resources within the empire."
Orion closed his eyes briefly to contain his anger. When he spoke again, his voice was firm and controlled.
"This isn't over. We're just getting started."
He then left the room, leaving behind the unrecognizable remains of the man who had almost succeeded in killing him.