In the weeks following the coup attempt, life in the Empire seemed to return to a tenuous semblance of normalcy—or at least, that’s what the pamphlets and dime novels hawked by street vendors imported from distant lands would have you believe.
Following the coup, the Empress effectively dissolved the whole government, leaving the Empire to have virtually no government to speak of. The Imperial Court now stood as the sole authority, with no ministers or bureaucrats to guide the ship. Just like that, Ries was left without a job.
The Empress had promised that the dissolution was only temporary, a necessary measure to restore order and cleanse the state of traitorous elements. Then came the arrests, executions, and show trials that felt more theatrical than justice. It became stale once the third, or maybe the fourth person, was hanged publicly.
The media stoked the flames, with newspapers printing fresh rumors daily, feeding the endless gossip that buzzed through the streets. Everyone had an opinion, and nobody knew what would happen next.
For Ries, the chaos outside was almost welcome. She viewed the collapse of the government as a strange kind of liberation. For the first time in ages, she was free from the burdens of politics, free from the constant demands and expectations of a job she never wanted in the first place. She was now the normal, usual Ries.
This time, with much more money than before.
She bought herself a three-story house just a few blocks off the boulevard—a comfortable place with a family-run café next door that filled the air with the smell of fresh bread every morning. A newly constructed subway station was just a few minutes’ walk away, adding a touch of modern convenience to her newfound quiet life.
Ries nodded approvingly as she stared at a large painting on the wall of her third-floor office. She had been meticulously recreating her old office from the governance complex, though with a few personal touches that made the space her own.
Before the Empress had dissolved the government, Ries had taken the liberty of ‘rescuing’ some of the files in her own office and Eden’s, carting boxes of documents home to avoid them being lost in the chaos. She’d also helped herself to a few choice trinkets from the late Eden’s office. Stacks of neatly organized folders lined her shelves, mingling with old books, and personal trophies hung on the wall.
Ries wasn’t entirely disconnected from Imperial politics. Former ministers—surviving ministers—would often drop by her home, exchanging gossip over tea or reviewing documents they’d also salvaged from the chaos.
Her living room had become an unofficial meeting spot for the remnants of the old government, a quiet hub of whispered conversations and shared grievances. Papers were spread across tables, stamped with seals of defunct offices.
As for Asumi, she had left for the Western Kingdoms, hailed as a Hero by the local populace. Her bravery and selfless efforts during the chaos had earned her more than just gratitude, they’d turned her into a symbol of hope.
During the coup’s violent climax, Asumi had been at the hospital, recovering from her own injuries, when a stray artillery shell had torn through a wing of the building. Without a moment’s hesitation, she leapt into action, using her healing magic to save everyone caught in the blast. Thanks to her quick thinking, not a single life was lost that day.
Well, besides the thousand of unfortunate people literally fighting outside the hospital.
She recently left to go rejoin her comrades at the Hero’s party, presumably continuing her fight against the demons.
For Ries, the pace of life had slowed considerably. She leaned back in her plush chair, enjoying the rare moment of stillness. The soft morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow that bathed her office in tranquility. It felt like a sanctuary, because it actually is.
Ries had woken up late, the kind of late that once would have filled her with anxiety back then. But today, there was no frantic rush, no endless stream of meetings or paperwork to tend to. Instead, she found herself savoring the peace, still wrapped loosely in her nightrobe, her hair slightly tousled from sleep, her tail wrapping around her. It was a luxury she hadn’t afforded herself in a long time.
She sipped her coffee, the rich aroma mingling with the morning air, and glanced out the window at the bustling streets below. Despite the upheaval, life went on. People hurried to their jobs, vendors shouted their wares, children played and went to school. She noticed the unusual amounts of automobiles parked near the sideway, perhaps it was time for her to buy one for herself? It’s not like she’s poor now.
She absently traced her fingers over the papers scattered on her desk, old reports from her time at the governance complex, and Eden’s confiscated documents. These were interesting, there were medical reports detailing Eden’s secret affliction.
According to the documents, Eden had contracted a rare and insidious disease, one that suffocated its victims slowly over time. The illness wasn’t well understood, it ate away the Mana within the body, draining it steadily until nothing remained.
For anyone reliant on Mana, which was practically everyone in the world, it was akin to having the air slowly choked out of them. The disease left its carriers weak, gasping for breath, as if their very life force were being stolen away, drop by agonizing drop.
There was no known cure, and the symptoms worsened progressively. Each breath became a struggle, each day a battle against the inevitable. The thought of such a fate sent a chill down Ries’ spine. Mana, for most people, was like oxygen—a vital component of life that fueled the arcane, strength, and even basic vitality. Without it, one was nothing more than a husk, condemned to a slow and torturous end.
She shrugged and set the document aside, reaching for her coffee and lighting a cigarette. Cigarettes were more to her taste these days—easier, less cumbersome than cigars, and far gentler on her lungs.
She took a slow drag, savoring the bitter taste as the smoke curled lazily around her, drifting toward the open window behind her desk.
With a flick of her wrist, she tapped the ash into a small, ornate tray. A relic she’d “acquired” from Eden’s office, a piece of his legacy now serving a humbler purpose.
She liked the irony of it.
The faint chime of her house bell echoed through the quiet, pulling her from her thoughts. A convenience she’d quickly grown to appreciate as technology progresses, no matter how absorbed she was in her work, she could always hear it, even from three floors up.
She let out a sigh, quickly running her fingers through her hair to tame the sleep-tousled strands before making her way downstairs. The sound of her bare feet on the polished wood steps was soft.
She reached the door, pausing for a moment to take a final drag of her cigarette, exhaling slowly before opening with her free hand.
The door swung open to reveal an unexpected visitor—a Siren, but not the kind that haunted sailors' nightmares. This one was land-bound, with spiky, reptilian wings folded awkwardly behind her, feathers twitching nervously. Her messy green hair framed a youthful face etched with anxiety, her posture remained slumped and uncertain. Most striking of all was the iron collar around her neck, which clearly indicted her social standing.
The Siren’s eyes flitted nervously, unable to maintain contact. “Um… is this the residence of Madam Anise?” she asked, her voice timid, almost a whisper. Ries noticed the slight tremor in her tone, there was none of the hypnotic allure that her kind was known for. This one’s spirit was subdued.
Ries studied the girl for a moment, taking another casual drag before flicking the cigarette butt onto the street. “That’s me,” she said, leaning against the door frame. “What is it?”
image [https://i.imgur.com/IoY9eLX.jpeg]
(A/N: so how did I do? This is my first time drawing a full body character.)
“Um… I am a slave of the late Master Eden… I had nowhere to go when he died, until I found out you are his… Deputy Minister?”
Ries' expression shifted from mild annoyance to guarded curiosity as she took in the Siren’s nervous demeanor. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity, but she masked it behind a cool exterior.
“Eden’s slave, huh?” Ries mused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I knew he had his fingers in some dark corners, but I didn’t expect… this.”
The Siren’s face flushed with embarrassment, her wings twitching nervously. “No, no, it’s not like that!” she stammered, shaking her head frantically. “I was never… I mean, he didn’t keep me for… personal reasons. I was just a bartender, assigned to keep tabs on The Faeries. It was his hideout—where he held his secret meetings, away from prying eyes.”
Ries crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe as she digested the information. ‘Yet another piece of Eden’s secret…’ It didn’t surprise her that Eden had stationed people to watch over his empire of secrets, but the thought of it now felt like an unwanted reminder of how far his influence had spread.
“And now that he’s dead, you’re left to fend for yourself,” Ries nodded with understanding. “Bet no one from his little circle cared to look after the loose ends.”
Or the fact that they are dead by now.
The Siren nodded, her eyes downcast. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. The others scattered when the Imperial Court started sniffing around. I only stayed because I didn’t know what else to do.” She glanced up, locking eyes with Ries, there was fear and fragile hope in her eyes. “I thought maybe you could help me… just until I figure things out.”
Ries sighed, she didn’t ask for this—didn’t asked for any of Eden’s baggage to land on her doorstep, especially not now when she was finally trying to carve out some peace. But she couldn’t ignore the girl’s plight, the vulnerability etched into her every word and movement. It was clear she had nowhere to turn, and in some odd way, she saw a reflection of herself in the Siren’s lost eyes.
“You can stay,” she finally said with a firm voice. “But this isn’t a charity. You’re going to earn your keep around here. Do the housework, keep things in order, and help me with whatever I need. Think of it as a job, you’ll be my maid, and I’ll pay you. Fair deal?”
The Siren’s wings perked up slightly, and a tentative smile broke through her nervous demeanor. “That sounds more than fair. Thank you, Madam Anise. I promise, I’ll do my best.”
“Good,” Ries nodded, stepping aside to let her in. “Get settled, then. I’ll show you around.”
The house felt a little less empty now, its once-silent halls now filled with the faint rustling of wings and footsteps. Despite her own reservations, Ries couldn’t deny the small comfort of another presence, that’s another two-sets of hand ready to do cleaning around here.
Ries gestured towards the living area, where sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting warm patterns on the floor. “That’s the main room,” she said as she let out another smoke. “Kitchen’s through there, and the bathroom’s down the hall. Your room is upstairs at the end of the second floor. It’s not much, but it’s yours now.”
The Siren nodded, her eyes scanning the space as if trying to memorize every detail. “It’s lovely… cozier than I’m used to.”
“I’ve got plenty of work for you, but I’m not a slave driver. Rest when you need it. Just stay out of my office unless I say otherwise. Got it?”
The Siren nodded quickly, her green hair bouncing with each eager movement. “Yes, Madam Anise. I won’t disappoint you.”
Ries smirked slightly. “Don’t call me ‘Madam.’ Just Anise is fine. I’m not much for titles.”
The Siren nodded, a hint of relief softening her nervous expression. “Yes… Anise.”
The Siren bowed her head respectfully before retreating upstairs to settle into her new room, the quiet sound of her footsteps fading into the background.
Alone again, she took a deep drag of her cigarette before crushing the cigarette into a nearby tray with a twist, the smoldering end extinguishing with a soft hiss. Her tail twitched and writhed restlessly behind her.
She let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of the morning settle on her shoulders. Perhaps it was the new presence of the Siren, or the ever-present shadows of Eden’s legacy, but Ries felt an itch under her skin.
She needed to move, to clear her head, even if she was still in her night robe, unwashed and half-awake.
She shrugged off the thought, grabbing a long brown coat from the rack by the door. It was well-worn and heavy, falling to her knees and doing just enough to cover her disheveled state. She pulled it around herself and tied it at the waist.
As she moved toward the stairs, she hesitated, realizing she hadn’t even asked for the Siren’s name. She shrugged it off, there would be time for introductions later—if the girl stuck around.
She called out, “I’m going outside for a bit! Make yourself at home, but don’t touch anything in my office!” The words echoed through the quiet house, yet she didn’t wait for a response.
The Siren didn’t need to know where she was going. Hell, Ries didn’t even know herself. She just needed a moment away, even if it was just to wander aimlessly down the block and let the city’s buzz drown out her thoughts.
With that, she stepped outside, letting the door click shut behind her as she welcomed the cool morning air. The sky was still brightening, and the streets were waking up with the familiar sounds of trams, distant chatter, and the morning rush. She took a deep breath, letting the fresh air wash over her, clearing away the stale smoke and lingering tension.
----------------------------------------
It was honestly weird, strange even, walking around like this. wearing a coat on top of a night robe, the fabric brushing against her bare legs. She felt like she was exposed, like she was walking nude in the streets. She caught herself glancing at strangers to see if they were staring.
But no one seemed to care, the city was too busy with its own affairs to notice her awkward attire.
Eventually, she found herself at the edge of the Valyran Grand Park, a sprawling oasis in the heart of the city and the largest public park in the entire Empire. It was a place of manicured lawns, towering trees, and winding pathways that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. On any given day, the park was filled with families, vendors, and artists peddling their crafts. It was as if she stepped inside a forest in the middle of an urban sprawl.
She stepped onto the gravel path, her boots crunching softly beneath her. The park was already bustling with activity despite the early hour of the morning; joggers jogged, and a few children chased each other under the watchful eyes of their nannies. Couples strolled hand in hand, lost in private conversations, while the occasional street musician strummed a tune on their violins or guitars.
She found a quiet bench beneath an old oak tree, its gnarled branches spreading wide like an ancient guardian of the park. She sat down, letting the cool breeze brush against her face, her coat flapping slightly in the wind.
“This is nice…” she mused, savoring the rare moment of stillness. The soft rustling of leaves, the distant murmur of voices, and the occasional chirp of a bird created a symphony of subtle sounds that were soothing in their own quiet way, it was peaceful here. For once, she didn’t have to be the Deputy Minister or Eden’s reluctant successor. She was just… Ries.
She watched as a squirrel darted across the path, pausing briefly to nibble on a fallen acorn before disappearing up a nearby tree. The scene was almost idyllic, a reminder of simpler times she barely remembered. Being surrounded by the gentle embrace of nature felt like a brief reprieve from the political quagmire that had become her life—a chance to catch her breath, if only for a little while.
Ries hadn’t noticed the figure sitting beside her until a voice broke the serene bubble she’d cocooned herself in. “A lot on your mind?”
Startled, she turned to face the stranger, her heart skipping a beat. Her flowing white hair, a white robe that covered most of her body, and her bright blue eyes. Azazel. Of all the places, of all the times…
“You—”
“Miss me?” Azazel’s lips curled into a faint smile.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Ries couldn’t hide her frustration as memories of Alyrus came flooding back—especially that infuriating moment when she’d returned from playing golf with the Governor, only to find that Azazel had vanished without a trace. Azazel, who she’d specifically paid to be her bodyguard, had left her in the lurch when she needed her the most.
“Where the hell have you been?” Ries demanded. “I paid you to stick by my side, not to go off on some mysterious errand.”
Azazel’s smile remained, calm and infuriatingly unbothered. “You looked like you had things well in hand. Besides, I had other obligations that required my attention.” She said it as if disappearing without warning was perfectly reasonable.
Ries gritted her teeth, her tail flicking beneath her coat in irritation. “Other obligations? You were supposed to be my bodyguard, not some wandering ghost who shows up whenever she feels like it.”
“And besides,” she continued. “What other obligations does an adventurer like you do that is so important than a client who you’re supposed to protect?”
Azazel leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, her posture relaxed. “I know, I know. But I was recalled to the West for a while.” She glanced at Ries with a knowing look, as if she expected Ries to understand. “Anyway, I’m back now. And it seems you’ve been handling yourself quite impressively in my absence.”
“Recalled to the West? You live in the Empire. What the hell do you mean, ‘recalled’? Who do you think you are, some noble with secret duties?”
“Um. Don’t worry about that. That’s not something you have to worry about.”
“Like hell, it isn’t,” Ries snapped, crossing her arms as her tail lashed beneath her coat. “I hired you because I needed someone reliable, not someone who vanishes on a whim.”
Azazel sighed. “I get it. I tried contacting you through the orb I gave you, but I didn’t get a response.”
Right yeah, the mention of the orb brought back a bitter memory. Ries remembered it all too well—lost when she was ambushed by that Palushian. An ambush that could have been avoided if Azazel had been there, doing her job.
“Yeah, the orb,” Ries muttered, her voice tinged with anger. “Which got destroyed when I was attacked. An attack that wouldn’t have happened if you were around to protect me like you were supposed to.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But—”
“Whatever.” Ries cut her off, her patience wearing thin. “Don’t expect me to try hiring you again. You’re unreliable, and I can’t afford that.”
Azazel hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Right… But we still need to find out what happened to the real Anise, remember?”
Ries fell silent, the reminder hitting her like a cold splash of water. The real Anise was out there somewhere—or worse, she was gone for good. Until they found out what happened, Ries’s position was precarious at best, a lie built on top of a mystery.
But does it matter anyway?
Her brief stint as Deputy Minister has come to a crashing end after the attempted coup and the dissolution of the government. She doesn’t see herself being forced into another important position anytime soon.
Besides, she can life off the rest of her life with all that money she accumulated. Barring taxes, her calculations had shown she’d be set until old age—assuming she managed her finances wisely and stayed out of trouble. A quiet, anonymous life wasn’t so bad when the alternative was the cutthroat game of politics.
“Right… you’re right,” she admitted. “But I’ve got my own things to handle. If you find anything about the real Anise, do let me know.”
Ries stood up, straightened her coat from the wind. Azazel rose as well.
“Hmm…” Azazel tilted her head, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “You know, you’re starting to sound like a real government official. All business-like.”
Ries blinked, taken aback. Did she? The realization unsettled her more than she cared to admit. She’d always thought of herself as the outsider, the reluctant player forced onto a stage she wanted no part of. But somewhere along the way, the language of bureaucracy and authority had seeped into her speech, changing her without her even noticing.
“Do I?” Ries repeated, her tone edged with disbelief and unease. It was one thing to pretend, to wear the mask of authority when necessary, but the idea that it had become part of her… that was something else entirely.
Azazel shrugged. “Yeah, you do. But hey, you’ll shake it off.” She looked around briefly, then gave Ries a reassuring pat on the shoulder, her expression softening for a moment. “I’ll keep my eyes open. If I find out anything about the real Anise, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Goodbye for now, then,” she continued, turning around and left, as if disappearing back into whatever shadows she’d come from.
Ries watched her go, the faint rustle of leaves overhead providing a momentary distraction.
----------------------------------------
She stayed at the park a little while longer, pacing the winding paths without any real direction as thoughts swirled inside her head. Eventually, the draw of her own thoughts faded, and with a quiet sigh, Ries decided it was time to leave.
The city was in full swing now, the streets alive with people going about their day. Ries walked with no particular urgency, letting the flow of the crowd guide her. But something felt different today. It took her a moment to put her finger on it—the unusually high number of Palushians walking the streets.
They were everywhere: standing in line at food stalls, huddled in small groups talking in their native tongue, or simply wandering with a plethora of expressions ranging from despair to desire for revenge she guessed.
Maybe it was specific for this one district, but it appears the war on the Palushian homeland has sent waves of refugees into the Imperial heartlands, remembering the fact the tribes hadn’t been subdued completely. General Jachs must be doing something that is causing this, though that’s not much of a concern to her.
Her attention shifted to the posters plastered on lampposts and walls, each one competing for attention in a chaotic patchwork of color and slogans. Advertisements for everything from luxury goods to cheap lodging, government notices, and propaganda all jostled for space.
One poster boasted a shining depiction of the Empire’s might, a small depiction of the Empire’s territorial borders with the imperial flag waving triumphantly above, the words “Strength Through Unity” emblazoned beneath it.
The other bore the emblem of the CDLWP and featured a clenched fist breaking chains, calling for resistance against imperial authority.
She scoffed quietly. Propaganda, whether imperial or revolutionary, always reeked of desperation. The Empire wants people to know they’re OK and the CDLWP needed a cause to rally around. They were two sides of the same coin, each trying to bend the will of the people to their side.
After a while, she passed the family-run bakery and reached her house.
Twisting the doorknob and entering it, she paused, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the man seated comfortably on her sofa as if he owned the place. Dressed in a sharp formal uniform, he looked every bit the picture of a high-ranking official, his posture relaxed but his presence unmistakably authoritative.
The Siren immediately stood up in a panic, her wings fluttering nervously as she tried to explain the man’s sudden appearance.
“Uhm! MadamAnisethisissirkettleheisherefor—” the Siren’s voice trailed off, stumbling over her words in a flustered rush.
“Hold on.” Ries cut her off with a sharp gesture, a finger pointed in the Siren’s direction before she turned her full attention to the man in uniform. “Who are you, and what the hell are you doing in my estate?”
The man stood up with a straight posture, his uniform immaculately tailored, not a single crease out of place. His eyes met hers without hesitation.
“I apologize for the unannounced visit, Madam Anise,” he said with a polite bow, though there was a subtle edge to his voice, a reminder that this was more than a simple courtesy call. “I am Sir Kettle, emissary of Her Imperial Majesty’s court.”
“The Empress?” Ries’s brows knit together, suspicion flickering in her eyes. “What does she want?”
Kettle’s expression remained neutral. “I believe this letter will provide the necessary context.” He reached into his coat and handed over a folded parchment, the imperial seal glinting—a deep crimson wax bearing the unmistakable crest of the Empress herself.
Ries snatched the letter immediately from his hand, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the seal—a regal insignia pressed into deep red wax, unmistakably the mark of the Empress.
She tore it open without ceremony, unrolling the thick, heavy parchment. The handwriting was elegant yet stern, every word meticulously penned as though each one carried the weight of the Empire itself.
It read:
> To the former Deputy Minister of Home Affairs
>
> This missive reaches you in a moment of grave import. Your recent actions and deft political maneuverings in the wake of Lord Eden’s ill-fated coup have not eluded the watchful eyes of the Empire. While others scurry like vermin, seeking refuge in the shadows of treachery and indecision, you have stood resolute, undeterred in your appointed station whether for triumph or travail. Your steadfast allegiance to the Empire amid such discord has not gone unnoticed by those who watch over the realm.
>
> However, there are questions yet unanswered and matters that require elucidation. In light of these concerns, you are hereby summoned to the Imperial Palace, where you shall be bestowed a title of nobility.
>
> Let it be known that this summons is not a mere request, but the express command of your sovereign.
>
> Her Imperial Majesty,
>
> Valeris IX
Ries’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes lingered on the final line. This wasn’t just a mere summons—it was an imperial decree. A title of nobility? She had gone from an accidental Deputy Minister to the precipice of joining the very aristocracy she loathed. What place did a Beastman have in the upper echelons of a Human-dominated world, where her kind was barely tolerated, let alone celebrated?
She clenched the letter, the parchment crinkling in her grip. “I don’t care for titles. Why now, after everything?”
Sir Kettle remained unfazed. “The Empress does not extend such honors without reason, nor does she suffer disobedience. Your actions have garnered her attention, and she sees value in you that others have overlooked. Your presence is required at the palace, where you will receive further instructions. It would be… unwise to refuse.”
Ries set her jaw, a storm of conflicted emotions raging inside her.
“When?”
“Today. A noon,” the man checked his pocket watch. “In about two hours, you are to arrive promptly. The Empress does not tolerate tardiness.”
Ries scowled, resisting the urge to snap back. She didn’t need to be told twice that this was no ordinary meeting—showing up late could easily be interpreted as an insult, and she had no desire to test the limits of imperial patience.
“Fine,” she said tersely, her tail flicking in irritation beneath her coat. “I’ll be there.”
Sir Kettle nodded, satisfied with her compliance. “Good. A carriage will be waiting outside your estate at eleven-thirty. Be ready.” With that, he turned and walked towards the door, his footsteps echoing through the quiet room.
Ries watched him leave, the weight of the impending audience with the Empress settling heavily on her shoulders. Two hours to prepare for what could be the most significant—and dangerous—meeting of her life. The nobility, the palace, the Empress herself; it was all a world she wanted no part of, and yet she was being pulled deeper into it with every passing second.
The Siren fidgeted nervously, her hands clasped in front of her, unsure of how to proceed. “Um… shall I prepare a bath, Madam Anise?”
Ries blinked, momentarily pulled from her thoughts. She had almost forgotten the girl was there, quietly blending into the background. “Yes,” Ries said with a sigh, her voice tinged with fatigue. “Get the bath ready.”
Thankfully, she still kept the dress uniform in anticipation of a ceremony that never came to pass, thanks to Eden. Memories of stiff collars that bit into her neck, the tight fit that made her feel trapped, and the heavy coat that weighed on her shoulders like a yoke came rushing back.
“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath. “Here we go again.”
----------------------------------------
Well, here she is.
“PRESENT!”
The guard’s voice echoed, and the massive doors to the throne room creaked open with a slow, deliberate grandeur that felt more like a sentence than a welcome.
The imperial dress uniform clung to her like a second skin—deep burgundy, the color of old blood, trimmed with gold epaulettes that seemed to dig into her shoulders with every movement. Gold braids and lanyards crisscrossed her chest, symbols of rank and status she’d never truly earned. Even the lampasses that ran down the sides of her trousers felt like chains, binding her to a role she despised. She looked the part of a decorated officer, every detail in place, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was wearing a lie.
A lie she was beginning to be tired with.
As she stepped forward, the soldiers lining the grand hall snapped to attention, their heels clicking in unison. The sound reverberated off the marble floors and high, vaulted ceilings.
The throne room itself was a masterpiece of intimidation—opulent and imposing, with banners of the Empire draped from the rafters, their crimson and gold designs reflecting a history of conquest and control.
Ahead of her, the throne loomed on an elevated dais, framed by columns of polished stone and behind it were the large coat of arms of the Empire in gold and other gems.
And there, seated in all her splendor, was the Empress Valeris IX—an embodiment of regal authority wrapped in silks and jewels, her cold eyes watching Ries with an unreadable expression.
Ries stopped at the base of the dais, her heart pounding despite her best efforts to remain composed. She dipped into a bow, the motion stiff and awkward, but respectful enough to pass muster.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” Ries said, her voice steady but devoid of the reverence most would muster before the Empress.
The Empress raised a gloved hand, signaling Ries to rise.
“Citizen Anise, in recognition of your efforts and unwavering service to the Empire,” the Empress continued, her voice ringing with the authority of a proclamation, “you are hereby granted the title of Countess of Katzennia, the land upon which the Katzen tribe inhabits. Henceforth, you shall be known as Lady Anise Des Katzennia.”
Ries's eyes widened slightly. Katzennia? Her heart sank as the realization hit. Of course she would make a Katzen the lord of their own tribal lands to assert control over it. It was a challenge to her very identity.
She had fought for the dignity and survival of her people from the imperialism of the Empire, and now, paradoxically, she was being placed in a position where she had to balance the demands of the Empire with the needs of her own tribe.
She remembered the first time the Empire tried to assert their control over the tribe. It was a phyrric victory for the Katzen tribe, and after that, the Empire just traded with them.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Ries said, forcing herself to sound respectful despite the turmoil inside. “I will do my utmost to serve both the Empire and my people.”
The Empress inclined her head slightly. “Good. Meet me in my office shortly. There are further matters to discuss.”
Without waiting for a response, the Empress turned and glided away, the train of her gown trailing elegantly behind her. Ries watched her go, before turning on her heel and left the throne room.
A royal guard approached her, “This way, Lady Katzennia,” he said, his voice respectful yet impersonal, as though her new title was simply another entry on a long list of imperial decrees.
Ries gave a curt nod, falling in step beside the guard. The guard led her through a series of winding hallways, each turn bringing her deeper into the palace’s inner sanctum. Servants moved briskly along the edges of the corridors, their eyes downcast and their footsteps light, trained to be seen and not heard in the presence of nobility. She could feel their fleeting glances—the curiosity, the envy, and perhaps a bit of fear.
The Beastman suddenly raised to nobility was a spectacle to behold.
They finally arrived at a set of double doors carved from dark wood, intricate patterns of the Empire’s crest etched into them with gilded precision. The guard stopped, knocking twice before pushing the doors open, revealing the Empress’s private office.
The office was anything but small, it was a grand space that spoke volumes about the power and wealth of its occupant. To her left, a seating area with plush velvet sofas and an ornate coffee table invited visitors to sit in.
The walls were lined with towering bookshelves crammed with documents, leather-bound volumes, and neatly stacked folders. Interspersed among the shelves were large paintings—most striking was a painting of the Empress herself which dominated almost an entire section of the wall.
At the far end of the room stood a grand desk, an imposing piece of dark mahogany. It was positioned directly in front of a massive window that stretched nearly from floor to ceiling, flooding the room with light and offering a breathtaking view of the city of Valyra sprawled out below.
The Empress herself stood behind the desk, framed by the window like a painting brought to life. Her silhouette was bathed in the midday light, casting long shadows across the room.
Ries straightened her posture, her eyes locking briefly on the Empress before respectfully averting her gaze.
“Sit,” she commanded. “We have much to discuss, Lady Katzennia.”
Ries took her seat on the velvet sofa, sinking slightly into the luxurious fabric. The Empress moved with a graceful economy of motion, settling across from Ries with an effortless elegance that made it clear who commanded the room, even in repose.
“Tea?” the Empress offered, her was tone polite but edged with formality, as if the gesture was less about hospitality and more a test of how Ries would respond to her civility.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she replied, her voice measured as she nodded in acceptance.
The Empress clapped her hands lightly, and a servant appeared almost instantly, as if summoned from the shadows. The servant, impeccably dressed, moved swiftly to pour a delicate stream of amber liquid into two porcelain cups, the aroma of jasmine and spice wafting gently through the room.
The Empress took her cup first, her gloved fingers wrapping around the handle with a refined poise. Ries followed suit, carefully lifting the cup, feeling the slight warmth seep through the fine porcelain. It was fragrant and luxurious.
“Tell me, Lady Katzennia,” she began, her voice a symphony of refined elegance. “What do you think of the Empire?”
Ries paused, the question hanging in the air like a blade suspended by a thread. She had prepared for many things, but being directly questioned by the Empress herself was not one of them. The woman’s eyes, sharp as cut gems, bore into her, searching for more than just a simple answer.
Ries set her cup down gently, careful not to betray the storm brewing within her. “Your Majesty, the Empire is... complex,” she replied, each word chosen with care, straddling the line between honesty and diplomacy. “It is a land of great achievements and undeniable beauty, but also one of contradictions. For many, it represents opportunity and order. For others, it is a weight that crushes under the guise of progress.”
“A candid response. You do not speak like a courtier. That is refreshing.”
Ries remained silent, her ears twitching slightly—a tell she could not quite control. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down, not here, not with her.
The Empress leaned back slightly. “The Privy Council finds you intriguing, if not polarizing. Some see you as a wild card, a Beastman far removed from our aristocratic traditions. Others, as a symbol of what the Empire can become—a place where even the most unlikely can hold power.”
“As a Beastmen, then, what do you think?”
Ries felt the question like a sharp prod, deliberate and pointed. It wasn’t just about her opinion—it was about her identity, her place within the empire’s carefully constructed hierarchy. She set her cup down, the delicate clink of porcelain punctuating the silence.
“I think, Your Majesty,” Ries began, her voice firm but respectful, “that the Empire’s view of strength is narrow. It values bloodlines, wealth, and tradition.”
“Oh? And why is that?” the Empress asked.
Ries took a breath, choosing her words with care. “Because it’s comfortable, Your Majesty. It’s easy to believe that strength is something inherited or bought, that power rests naturally in the hands of those born into privilege. But that perspective blinds the Empire to other forms of strength—those born from struggle, from resilience, from the fight to survive against all odds. It forgets the value of those who have no choice but to be strong.”
“You speak of the Empire as if it is a rigid, unchanging beast. Yet, here you sit—a Beastman, in a position few would have ever dreamed possible. Does that not show some willingness to change?”
Ries hesitated. She cannot outright reveal to THE Empress that she was an accident. She has to make up some other reason… but what?
Before she could formulate a response, the Empress leaned in, “Do you yearn for change?”
Ries blinked, caught off guard by the sudden, direct question. “Pardon… Your Majesty?”
The Empress’s expression softened, but only slightly, as though she were offering a glimpse of empathy just to see what Ries would do with it. “Change. Do you desire it? You speak of the Empire’s flaws, its blindness, as if you see a world where things could be different. I wonder, is that a world you wish to create?”
Ries felt her pulse quicken.
“Your Majesty,” Ries began slowly. “I believe that change is inevitable. The world moves whether we choose to move with it or not. I am here because, like you, I see a world that could be more than it is now. A world where strength is not limited by birthright or tradition, but defined by the courage to adapt, to grow, and to embrace the unknown.”
The Empress tilted her head, considering Ries’ words. “You speak of courage and adaptability. Yet, you serve an Empire that values its old ways. Do you see your role as one to uphold its legacy, or to challenge it?”
“My role, Your Majesty, is to serve—but not blindly. The Empire’s legacy is built on strength, and sometimes strength means knowing when to hold fast and when to change course. I do not seek to dismantle what has made us great, but I believe we can be greater still. The Empire’s strength could be so much more than tradition—it could be its people, united in purpose.”
The Empress studied her, she saw something flash in her eyes. Approval? Understanding?
“You are a curious one, Lady Katzennia. A Beastman in a noble’s seat, speaking of unity and purpose as if they were within reach.” She said, crossing her arms.
Her eyes wandered around the opulent room, taking in the grandeur of her surroundings. The Empress seemed lost in thought, her fingers absently tracing strands of her golden hair.
“What you propose,” she continued, her voice thoughtful and deliberate, “is not a small thing. To imagine the Empire changing its course, embracing new perspectives, is to challenge centuries of established order. It is ambitious, to say the least.”
Ries watched as the Empress’s gaze returned to her, the thoughtful expression now tinged with something more—perhaps a spark of curiosity or an invitation to explore her ideas further.
“Then, would you like to form a government?”