The capital city of the empire, Adaridge, stood as a testament to the might and grandeur of Emperor Cormac Llywelyn the Third. Situated in the rough center of the empire, Adaridge boasted river access that stretched from the city's heart all the way to the coast, bringing wealth from all corners of the land.

This wealth was mirrored in the city's immense size and intricate design. Monstrous towers of stone, metal, and glass pierced the sky, densely packed together within the basin of hilly terrain. This compact living was home to the city's poorest residents.

Sky bridges connected many of these towers, which were adorned with neon mana crystals and lush green flora. The close-knit architecture was further interconnected by a weave of slim alleyways, almost all of which were adorned with small businesses run out of stalls or hole-in-the-wall spots.

As Adaridge extended beyond the mouth of the valley, its tremendous towers gave way to hillside villas that wrapped around the shores of a pristine lake, climbing up the terrain like poison ivy.

The emperor's palace sat opposite this breathtaking scenery, secluded on its own side of the lake and surrounded by verdant private gardens cascading over the varied landscape. The palace, constructed primarily of stone and steel with occasional enormous glass panoramas, stood as an architectural marvel.

At the foot of the castle lay a private dock, its marvelous craftsmanship encroaching onto the water, symbolizing the seamless blend of natural beauty and human ingenuity that defined Adaridge.

Inside the palace, the grand hall echoed with the announcement, "Enter! Enter and behold your ruler, the glorious Emperor Cormac Llywelyn the Third!"

The emperor nestled himself deep into his throne, overlooking the grand hall that lay before him. He had long given up on trying to shirk these current meetings regarding the troubles of his empire.

Instead, he resigned himself to sitting through them, having nearly perfected the art of zoning out completely. Every day he was met with more and more issues, complaints, and such.

The most recent of which were the rumors of trouble brewing in The Borderlands.

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"Your Grace, I bring another message from the border guard. Captain Lonemoon has described it as... sensitive. Perhaps it would serve best to clear the room?" Roderick Trapp knelt as he announced the message, ever the reverent servant.

The Emperor sighed and waved a hand toward the rest of his lingering court. Murmurs rose among disgruntled nobility, whispers and comments from those who believed themselves important enough to hear this valuable secret, yet would never speak such beliefs to their ruler.

"Are you deaf? Or simply insolent? Out, you fools! Before I have my men drag you."

The sound of shuffling footsteps rose up as they filtered out of the room.

"Speak, Roderick. What exaggerations do you bring me today, my master of spies? No doubt Lonemoon has another contrived excuse to beg for coin and men. The man overreaches - "

He sighed again and rolled his eyes, spitting the words with a heavy tinge of annoyance.

" - merely six years into his role and he throws every petty issue back to his Emperor. Well, go on then, tell me!"

"Captain Lonemoon has described the situation in the northeast as... escalating - " Roderick said.

" - He claims his men are under near constant threat now, that the magical beasts usually present are growing ever stronger, some are even reaching A rank. Might I add, Your Grace, that is unheard of. Not since the Age of Darian, some four hundred years past."

"Oh please, Roderick. He must think me a fool! And you an even bigger one, no doubt he knew you would jump at his lies. He will receive no assistance, as always."

Cormac slumped back down into his throne. The weight of his boresome days pressed down on his shoulders once again.

"Your Grace, there is much to be gained from believing him, and very little to be lost. He is nothing if not persistent, you must reconsider."

Hints of exasperation seeped into his voice as Roderick spoke, clearly tired of his Emperor's stubborn streak.

"Silence, Roderick. You will not respond to this farce of a request, and I am certainly not going to send that bastard any assistance. Not even a copper piece. Do you hear me?"

"..."

"Well?" Cormac shouted down from his throne.

"Understood, Your Grace. Pardon me."

Roderick backed up half the length of the grandiose hall, then spun on his heel and moved to the exit.

Just as he reached the ornate wooden doors, they burst open with a bang. The first princess of the empire, Lyla Llywelyn, stormed into the hall and pushed him out of her way.

The emperor sat upright, his attention suddenly drawn back by her presence.

"My dear, you know I am always so happy to see you, but now is simply not the ti-"

She cut him off, shouting up at him as she stormed forward.

"You allowed Duke Beaumont to disown Art? Not once in gods know how many years has a noble done such a thing and you let him dare to do it without even consulting you! Explain."