The Requiem Of An Empress 2 Mien: ????????「Rajadarzana」

The Sierro has already set, and all the lights of the capital are now bedazzling the despondent streets. The citizens of Atharia, capital of the Seraphiel Empire, are busy going through their day. Alleys that were full of vendors on both sides are bursting with crowds. They are those who had the leisure to shop for their convenience.

The plaza in front of the palace, decorated with night lanterns, dubbed to be the place where romance blooms more often than the blossoms in spring, have couples and families bonding and spending the time of their lives all over the place.

Establishments are bustling with customers trying to take a breather from their daily routines. It is as everyone says, a picture-perfect city where the citizens could not ask for anything more phenomenal.

Having the image of warmth and peace was how exactly the capital was painted. Although, the same words are hardly appropriate to describe the atmosphere inside the audience room, located at the facade of the rightmost building of the imperial palace.

The room, enough to place a thousand people in its vicinity, contained no furniture other than the Emperor's throne, that sits atop a five-stepped dais with two maroon flags, hanging on the proscenium arch, bearing the emblem of the Emperor and the Empire.

The throne was delicately handcrafted with black gold, moulded into intricate patterns of leaves and flowers right at the end of the armrest, topped with a wine red seat cus.h.i.+on and backrest. The carpet, in royal red, with the breadth of two average men, running along from the door right up the wall behind the royal seat, was the finis.h.i.+ng touch to the pearl white marbled floor. There are two floor-to-roof gla.s.s windows on both flanks of the room with black velvet heavy curtains, embellished with white gold tussles, covering them. The final touch to the room's simplicity is the white ceiling, approximately eight meters above the ground, that looked so barren with only a single, transparent sphere of magic device attached to it to light up the s.p.a.ce.

In contrast with the minimalist design of the room, the Emperor's Knights of the Round Table neatly lined themselves up near the throne, along the carpet, in a grand and imposing manner. There is also the Prime Minister standing three steps below the throne, looking like the uptight person that he is. Lastly, the most extravagant ornament in sight is the Emperor with his infamous countenance devoid of emotions. The individuals occupying the pinnacle echelon of the regime did not unveil an inch of modesty in their appearance.

If they want an audience with the Emperor, the n.o.bles will have to go through this kind of intimidation. Presently, Baron Merlon Istani, who is prostrated on the floor, is the one subjected to the suffocating pressure of these people.

Baron Istani was shaking in fear even before he entered the confines of the audience room. Regardless of his rational worry, he had no other choice. He needed to compose himself to be capable of commissioning the Emperor's a.s.sistance. He knows little to nothing about the Monarch's temperament, since this is the first instance that a conversation is occurring between them. The most prominent trait of the ruler, to the Baron's knowledge, is that he detests those who are not upfront with their desires. It is also worth noting that the Emperor is a taciturn man. Thus, every word that he utters should be duly comprehended.

After articulating his objective, Baron Istani said nothing further and awaited the Emperor's response in quietude. Howbeit long his patience was, the Baron could not help but speak out of order when a couple of minutes have already pa.s.sed, still no response came to him.

"The barbarians have established a command centre and are slowly building up their forces. I am afraid that my fief will be taken over if I do not bring up this issue as soon as possible."

Again, silence. Baron Istani was starting to get frustrated from the deafening stillness inside the room that he immediately wanted to protest. But strangely enough, he had a premonition that the next thing he'd say will decide the success or failure of his endeavour.

'I must fend off the barbarians without losing any part of my land so that I can retain my position in the southern alliance. In the alliance, the larger your territory is, the more powerful you are. At first, I thought of getting help from the n.o.bles inside my circle, but being in debt with them is far worse than being in debt with the Emperor. It is because the Emperor does not want the lingering attachment of debt with the n.o.bles. He immediately reciprocates and does not take any compensation. He only wants to get the job done in the way he wanted, or so I've heard.', the wheels in the n.o.ble's head were profusely turning as he reflected on several things.

It is safe to say that Barlon Mestani is at a loss on what to do. He was racking his brains for anything useful when the Emperor's voice reverberated in his ears.

"You were so adamant in defending your territory yourself, yet you have brazenly asked for an audience with me, asking for help, belatedly in the ordeal?"

Baron Istani lifted his head just to meet the eyes of the Emperor. At that moment, sweat suddenly trickled down from his forehead, and he felt that the temperature in the room dropped to a point wherein Mercury will freeze in an instant. The air leisurely smothered his whole being. His liberty to move his body disappeared, even diverting his stare proved to be taxing. He whimpered every time he opened his mouth; it was comparable to a scared mutt. Nevertheless, no matter how difficult, the Baron strived to muster all of his strength to reply to the Emperor's query.

"I... I-i di-did not mem-mean t-to-to come-om at-t-at t-th-th-this-his t-time --kuk"

Baron Istani tried to swallow the saliva that was blocking his throat. Unfortunately, he choked on it, and that started his coughing fit. Tears began to race down his cheeks and snot came running out of his nose, validating that he was having a hard time breathing. No knight in the room batted an eye at the familiar view playing in front of them. However, the tens of n.o.bles, standing at the part of the s.p.a.ce nearest to the door, lowered their heads p.r.o.nto, anxious of tasting the same fate as Merlon.

'What a mess you are. You shouldn't have met the Emperor's gaze when no permission was given.', Duke Sarakiel Helian sighed, albeit discretely, while he watched the pitiful man cough his lungs out afore the Emperor.

The Duke, sporting an undercut with his honey blonde hair, holds the sixth seat in the Rounds. He is also one of the youngest, joining the knight order at age 18. If one were to ask his comrades, at once, about Duke Helian, they will say in unison that he is the kindest among the Emperor's knights, though a commoner won't be prepared to receive their definition of kind.

'I did not think that I will be using my abilities here, of all places.', even though Duke Helian was complaining in his mind alone, with a single wave of his hand, the Baron's struggle ceased in a jiffy. His action was left uncriticized despite its nonnecessity. From the beginning, the knights were told to judge the situation and conduct as they see fit.

'Well, wasting our time is not the only fault that he should be begging forgiveness for. I hope he realizes that.', Sarakiel ruminated by himself as he closed his eyes out of apathy.

Unbeknownst to the majority of aristocrats, the Emperor values the citizens more than the recognition of the self-absorbed n.o.bles. What made the n.o.bles think otherwise was because the Emperor does not take any direct actions in protecting the people; he makes it look like it is a lot of trouble, which is in most cases, the truth.

Going back, Baron Istani slowly regained his senses. His eyes widened when it struck to him that he presented such a disgraceful behaviour. He hurriedly brought out the handkerchief from his pocket and started to wipe his wet face.

'This is an embarra.s.sment! To think that something like this will happen! And in front of the Emperor no less! No more, I want to get out of this room now to preserve my dignity!', terror enveloped Baron Istani's sanity while he repeatedly desired to escape.

The Baron gave up the idea of asking the Emperor for help that easy. He just wanted to rush back to his fief and do his best until death visits his doorstep.

"Baron Merlon Istani"

"Yes? Yes, My Lord!"

The Baron was startled when the Prime Minister blurted out his name in full. He kept his head down, afraid that he might make the same mess he made earlier.

"What his majesty meant when he said 'this late in time' is that, you took too long in asking for our aid. The first sighting of the Barbarians lurking near the Istani Fief, four mensiths ago, already showed evidence of them having an organized force. They were not randomly attacking and retreating, but slowly reducing the attack force of the troops that are being dispatched by you, the fief Lord, while making them advance out of the territory. To this day, it still astonishes me that you had the knack to send back the troops that we provided."

"I know of that information, My Lord. Withal, I believe that my army legion consisting of four brigades will be able to fend off the Southern Barbarians who have a population barely reaching 20,000, seeing that my soldiers are well equipped and had ample training in their repertoire. But I was not expecting that they are also-"

"They were in possession of weapons and armours rivalling your best. In addition to that, they also attacked en ma.s.se, using the your people as hostages along the way, isn't that correct?", the minister interrupted the lowly n.o.ble, rendering him speechless.

After being cut-off, the Baron can solely nod his head.

"Your legion, already down on its last straw, is in the middle of Barbarian territory before you left for the capital, yes?"

"I believe so, My Lord."

"The travel time from your fief to the capital is approximately two mensiths, provided that you'll utilize all of the portals on the way. With simply that fact, we could a.s.sume that your troop has been long annihilated. The people left to defend your fief, the one that borders the empire's southeast, are merely the castle guards and the citizens themselves, correct?"

Baron Istani wanted to sink further down the ground, ashamed at the brutally stated fact.

"That... that is correct, My Lord.", Baron Istani replied with a voice copying that of a meek puppy. He accepted that he, alone, cannot reverse the situation. That is why he visited the capital for an audience with the ruler of the Seraphiel Empire. Nonetheless, listening to a higher n.o.ble made him feel like he was being slapped a dozen times of his incompetency. His excuses are nowhere to be found.

The Prime Minister, Duke Zelel Claudas, took a glance at the Emperor who did not convey even a thread of concern.

'This won't end on a good note if the Baron doesn't excuse himself soon.', Duke Claudas exasperatingly debated the consequences of a n.o.ble prioritizing greed over benevolence.

"Let me tell you this, Baron Istani. Cannibalism is nothing new but the Barbarians will resort to this any chance they could get. I suggest you brace yourself, for the reason that the previously barren land is currently being tainted by the blood of our people."