After the slow dance, Kaiser escorted Ayumu back to her seat.
His hand hovered lightly near her lower back—not quite touching, a gesture of courtesy rather than intimacy. He pulled out her chair, waited until she was seated, then gave a shallow bow and returned to his own table.
Visil sat down heavily beside his sister, his dark eyes fixed on Kaiser's retreating form. The glare he shot across the hall could have curdled milk.
Kaiser did not even glance his way.
Visil turned to Ayumu, his voice low and insistent. "How are you so comfortable with that man touching you?"
Ayumu blinked, surprised by the question. She considered it for a moment, her golden eyes thoughtful beneath her veil.
"I am not entirely sure, Brother," she admitted. "Perhaps because Lord Kaiser saved me before. I know he is kind, so I am not afraid."
Visil's mouth fell open. His eyebrows shot upward. "Kind?!" He nearly choked on the word. "That man is kind?"
Ayumu looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. She knew the reputation of black magis—everyone did. Cold. Emotionless. Dangerous. But for her, Kaiser had always been different. Strict, yes. Stern, certainly. But beneath that frozen exterior, she had glimpsed of his genuine kindness.
Visil leaned closer, his voice dropping to a stern whisper. "I want you to stay away from that man. Do you hear me? He is not good."
Ayumu giggled—a soft, musical sound that seemed entirely out of place given her brother's serious expression.
"If he is not good," she said, tilting her head, "then how can he be your right-hand man, Brother?"
Visil's eye twitched.
Annoyed, he reached over and pinched his sister's cheek. Not hard, but the way an exasperated older brother might.
Ayumu squeaked softly.
The upbeat music began.
Tambourines shook, their bright, rhythmic jingling cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. Drums joined in. The tempo quickened, and the atmosphere in the hall shifted from formal celebration to something wilder.
Rhea rose from her seat and walked to the center of the floor.
She was joined by several other magis ladies from different tribes, the black, the charoite and brown and the water magis tribes. Women all with different forms of ethereal beauty and body types. Beautiful and captivating. Together, they began to dance.
The Balaqi.
Hips swayed. Bodies undulated. Arms rose and fell like waves. The dance was hypnotic. Sensual but never vulgar. It was a powerful dance that is meant for celebration, born from the tradition of magis people from Graitan, welcoming warriors home from long journeys or war.
The entire hall was captivated.
Even the servants paused in their duties to watch.
Drobar sat frozen at the expedition table, his jaw slightly slack, his eyes fixed on Rhea with an intensity that bordered on worship.
"Rhea is so beautiful…" he murmured, almost to himself.
Fifi and Levain exchanged a glance. Eyebrows rose. Understanding passed between them without a single word.
Drobar has feelings for Rhea.
Soon, the dance ended.
The music faded into a final, percussive crash, and the magis ladies struck their finishing poses.
Drobar shot to his feet.
He clapped—loud, thunderous, completely unrestrained. His applause echoed through the hall, drowning out the more polite, restrained clapping of the nobles.
"BRAVO! MAGNIFICENT! WONDERFUL!"
Rhea's face turned crimson. She ducked her head, mortified, and hurried back to her seat while the other magis ladies giggled behind their hands.
At the head table, Ayumu clapped gracefully—small, polite applause, her hands barely touching. Her eyes sparkled behind her veil.
"Rhea danced so gracefully," she said softly. "Like a swan. So beautiful."
Visil turned to his sister, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
"And you, my dear sister, danced like a stick insect. More like swaying, not dancing."
Ayumu's face flushed a deep, embarrassed pink.
Visil giggled and reached over to pinch her cheek again.
--------------------------------------------------
The next morning, three people were summoned to the emperor's new office.
Drobar. Levain. And Kaiser.
The matter was urgent. The rains had grown more frequent. Flash floods had swallowed roads, drowned crops, and driven villagers from their homes. Something needed to be done.
Levain stepped forward, carrying a ceramic pot in both hands. It was unadorned—brown, simple, nothing special to look at.
"Your Majesty," he said, "I present to you the magical… pot."
Visil stared at the object. Then at Levain. Then back at the object.
"Sir Levain," he said slowly, "why am I looking at a pot?"
Levain straightened, a spark of pride in his eyes. "It is no ordinary pot, Your Majesty. This is a gift from the djinn we met. I made a wish for it." He cradled the pot like a precious relic. "It is able to absorb a lake's worth of water and transport it easily to another location. This could be the solution to the floods."
Kaiser crossed his arms. "The floods are coming from different areas, Sir Levain. You cannot be in more than two places at once when it happens."
"That is true." Levain nodded, undeterred. "But I wish to absorb water from the great lake at the end of the valley. Over the years, it has grown significantly—far larger than it should be. I suspect the massive rain clouds originate from that lake."
Drobar frowned, scratching his chin. "Wait. If you absorb water from the lake, the people downstream won't have water to drink."
"Not all of it," Levain clarified. "Just half. It is not a permanent solution—only temporary. Until we find the real reason for the floods."
Visil leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes fixed on the pot. "Have you tested this before, Sir Levain?"
A beat of silence.
"Well… no."
Visil sighed—a long, weary exhale. "Then we should test it first, should we not? It might end up carrying only a cup of water instead of a lakes worth."
Levain's shoulders slumped. "I understand… Your Majesty."
Visil straightened, his imperial mask sliding back into place. "Test it at the lake behind the palace. Determine roughly how much water it can absorb or...fill. If it works, Sir Drobar will station men to assist Sir Levain in this effort." He turned to Kaiser. "Lord Kaiser, instruct the water magis to be stationed in the affected flood zones for relief. Roma will provide the necessary funds and supplies."
The three men bowed.
They turned to leave—but at the door, Visil's voice stopped them.
"Lord Kaiser. I have something to ask."
Kaiser looked back.
Drobar and Levain halted. The door was half open. They should have walked through. Instead, they slowly closed back the door and inched themselves to the side, pressing against the wall like two children eavesdropping on their parents.
They were curious.
Visil and Kaiser both knew they were lingering. Neither paid them any mind.
The emperor's expression had shifted. The formality was gone. In its place was—something personal. As he was not pleased.
And he did not hesitate to voice it.
"During the expedition," Visil said slowly, "what happened between you and Ayumu?"
Kaiser blinked. "Pardon?"
"Do not play dumb with me." Visil's voice sharpened. He rose from his chair, his hands pressing flat against the desk. "Ayumu was able to touch you without fear. Until now, the only man she has been comfortable with is me." He stepped around the desk, his dark eyes boring into Kaiser's red ones. "So I ask again. What did you do?"
Kaiser held his ground. His expression remained calm, unreadable.
"I do not seem to understand, Your Majesty," he said evenly. "Are you asking what happened between me and Lady Ayumu during the expedition? Or are you simply jealous that she can now touch another man who is not you?"
Behind them, Drobar and Levain exchanged delighted glances. Both nudged each other, eyes wide, silently communicating how interesting this conversation had become.
"Argh—you insolent black magis!"
Visil grabbed the nearest object—a box of quills—and hurled it at Kaiser's head.
Kaiser sidestepped with ease.
The box flew past him and struck Drobar square in the forehead.
Thunk.
"Ow!" Drobar stumbled back, one hand pressed to his brow. Levain caught him by the elbow, helping him steady himself. Drobar's forehead was already reddening, a small bruise forming—but he did not move.
Visil was huffing, his chest heaving. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes—lack of sleep, perhaps, or worry, or both.
"Tell me, Kaiser." His voice was lower now, but no less intense. "Do you have feelings… for Ayumu? For my sister?"
Behind them, Levain and Drobar gasped.
Kaiser looked at the emperor for a long moment.
Then he said: "Yes."
Another gasp from near the doorway—louder this time.
"I knew it!" Visil lunged.
He grabbed Kaiser by the collar, yanking the slightly taller man down to his level. Kaiser did not resist. He did not flinch. He simply stood there, unmoved, while the emperor shook him like a dog with a rag.
"Do you know how old she is?" Visil's voice cracked—half rage, half desperate protectiveness. "She is seventeen. Seventeen, I tell you! Too young to even know what love is."
He shoved Kaiser aside and turned away, running a hand through his hair.
"Whatever your feelings for her, bury them. She is to remain single for the rest of her life. I will take care of her. She has no need for affection from another man—other than her own brother!"
Kaiser straightened his collar, his expression unchanged.
"You cannot keep your sister protected forever, Your Majesty," he said quietly. "She has free will."
Visil spun around, eyes blazing. "Oh, yeah? Watch me."
Kaiser studied the emperor—this stubborn, exhausted, fiercely protective man who stood between him and the person he had come to care for. It was not a sight he was accustomed to. Visil was usually composed. Calculating. Imperial.
But this was not the emperor speaking.
This was a brother.
Kaiser pushed forward anyway.
"When she is of proper age," he said, his voice steady, "I will ask for her hand in marriage."
The gasp from the doorway was the loudest yet.
Drobar's jaw hung open. Levain's hand was pressed to his heart.
Visil's face went dark. His eyes narrowed into slits.
"You…" He took a slow step toward Kaiser. Then another.
He closed the distance between them, looming up at the taller man.
"Oooooh, you are a child lover!"
Kaiser's composure cracked—just slightly. His brow furrowed. His jaw tightened.
He was annoyed.
Seventeen was a young adult, not a child. And he was only five years older—hardly an inappropriate gap. He had never acted in any way that could be considered improper toward Ayumu. He was certain she remained completely clueless about his true feelings.
But Visil was not listening to reason. He was an overprotective brother, blinded by love and fear, and he was accusing Kaiser of a crime he had not committed.
"Look here, Your Majesty—"
Before Kaiser could finish, a commotion erupted outside.
Shouting. Running footsteps. Voices raised in alarm—loud enough to penetrate the thick oak doors.
Then a knock.
Visil's face twisted with frustration. "Enter!"
The door burst open. A guard stood in the doorway, his face pale, his breath short.
"Your Majesty! The royal advisor… she is gone!"
The room fell silent.
Then—
"Again?" Visil threw his hands up, his composure crumbling entirely. "Has she no respect for me? For the laws of the emperor?!"
Kaiser stood still, his red eyes fixed on the guard.
But somewhere beneath his stoic exterior, a small, treacherous part of him thought:
What a troublesome young lady she is.
And he smiled.