As the sun dipped behind the Redicoc Mountains, casting a golden hue over the landscape, Tamiron’s arrival at the Imperial Palace, Cors’Viridetauros, was heralded by the day’s fading light. With swift steps, he traversed the palace halls, guided by the graceful Lady of the Court, Emerys Xarves. Vibrant banners, displaying the Imperial Crest and the emblem of Trasidar, adorned each corridor they passed through. Shades of gold glistened, accentuating the ornate decorations that adorned the walls.

“The Queen Empress saw fit to re-decorate,” Emerys remarked, her voice breaking the silence and drawing his attention.

“A welcome change, I must say. The previous decor lacked vibrancy,” he replied, his gaze sweeping the halls as if seeing them anew.

Emerys observed his curiosity with a gentle smile. “Your Majesty’s interest is quite evident, Prince Tamiron.”

He chuckled softly. “My apologies.”

“No need for apologies, Your Majesty,” Emerys reassured him, her eyes meeting his. “This palace is your home as much as it is hers.”

He felt a pang of nostalgia as he contemplated Emerys’ words. It had been years since he last roamed these halls, his time spent on distant battlefields. The familiarity of the palace now felt distant, a relic of a past life amidst the chaos of war.

As they reached the grand doors of the Throne room, he couldn’t help but notice the renewed decor, adorned with the resplendent Imperial Trasidar Crest. With a ceremonious flourish, Emerys led the way, announcing Tamiron’s arrival with a regal tone.

“I present, his Majesty, Imperial Regent Tamiron Lluch,” Emerys declared, as the doors swung open to reveal the illustrious chamber beyond.

His eyes met the warm smile of his sister, Queen Empress Tamara Lluch, seated upon the throne, radiating a regal aura that commanded attention. Alongside her sat the reformed Imperial Council, comprised of familiar faces: Moselei Maktu, Ferrier Ole, and Tolous Rham.

Surprised by the unexpected company, his initial instinct was to retreat, his sense of intrusion palpable. “I apologize for the interruption. I will take my leave,” he offered, bowing respectfully as he turned to depart.

But before he could make his exit, Tamara’s voice halted him in his tracks. “No, stay,” she insisted, rising from her seat with a gracious gesture.

With a resigned sigh, he conceded, watching as the doors began to close behind him. Facing his sister once more, he bowed respectfully. “My Queen.”

Tamara’s response was warm, dismissing the need for formalities as she welcomed him with open arms. Unable to resist her embrace, he returned the smile, grateful for the familial connection amidst the formality of courtly affairs.

“It is good to see you again, my Liege,” Tolous greeted, his expression mirroring Tamara’s warmth.

Returning the sentiment, he exchanged pleasantries with Tolous before Ferrier’s curiosity prompted another question.

“In your absence, who commands the frontline, your Highness?” Ferrier inquired, his interest piqued by the shifting dynamics of leadership.

With a nod of understanding, Tamiron revealed the unexpected choice. “We have elected High Prince Aderon Azure as the new Grand Commander,” he disclosed, bracing himself for the council’s reaction.

The revelation sparked surprise among the gathered councilors, prompting speculation on the potential impact of Aderon’s appointment on the ongoing war effort.

“The army is in capable hands. Given the recent events under my command, stepping down is the best course of action for everyone involved,” he explained, extending a measure of credit to Aderon. However, some councilors expressed their disagreement with huffs and crossed arms.

“You must be certain about this, Your Highness. We cannot afford to make any more enemies at this juncture,” Tolous cautioned, his tone firm.

“I trust the Prince’s judgment. We must have faith in him,” Tamara interjected, her voice carrying a note of reassurance. With that, the councilors took their seats, each assuming their respective positions.

“I must say, I am impressed with the changes you’ve made, particularly with the throne,” he remarked, admiring the intricately crafted seat that now bore resemblance to the Four-horned crown and the city’s banners. The imperial palace itself had undergone a transformation, now adorned with a banner of golden green, reflecting his sister’s personal preference for opulence.

“I’m pleased that you appreciate it,” Tamara responded graciously. “Work on the outskirts of the city is still underway as we speak.”

“Indeed, I’ve noticed the expansion of the city walls,” he observed, casting his gaze outside to where laborers toiled to erect an additional ring of fortifications.

“The city has experienced exponential growth over the past several years, leading to the need for expansion,” Tamara explained, her cheerful demeanor fading as she broached the subject. “It all began with the influx of refugees in Barceneim.”

He felt a pang of guilt at her words. It was because of him that the city had swelled in population, but he kept his remorse hidden beneath a mask of composure.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, my Queen. In fact, it’s beneficial for the empire as a whole. The expansion of the capital will provide space for additional offices, facilitating the day-to-day activities of the Empire,” he replied, forcing a smile. He knew his sister was aware of the underlying implications, but she met his gaze with understanding.

“I’m sure it will benefit us in various ways,” Tamara reassured him, her tone imbued with her own brand of comfort. “But before we delve into personal matters, let us conclude the current meeting.” With a subtle signal, she directed the councilors to resume their discussion.

“As we were discussing, Your Highness, the northern regions remain unstable,” Ferrier continued, shifting the focus back to the pressing matters at hand. “Both the Imperial Army and Garrison forces are struggling to maintain peace.”

“It’s been five years. Shouldn’t they have come to terms with the situation by now?” Tolous interjected, frustration evident in his voice.

“The removal of council representatives was not a gentle process. We cannot expect them to accept the changes overnight,” Moselei countered, his tone firm.

“Well, it has been five years — five years! We’ve already granted their requests. I fail to comprehend how we’ll manage this,” Tolous exclaimed, his voice rising with frustration.

From his vantage point, he could discern that the Empire hadn’t truly recovered from the events of five years ago.

“For now, councilors, we must ensure we remain attentive to the needs of the northern regions. We cannot afford to lose their loyalty at this critical juncture,” Tamara asserted, her tone carrying the weight of responsibility. She cast a meaningful glance in his direction.

“My esteemed councilors, let us table this discussion for the time being. My brother has just returned from an arduous journey, and it would be unwise to burden him further,” she announced, descending from the throne once more. “Shall we reconvene tomorrow?” she suggested, directing a warm smile at Tolous, who nodded in agreement. With formalities observed, the councilors bowed respectfully to both their queen and himself, acknowledging his presence as the Prince.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

As the chamber emptied, leaving only Emerys, Tamara, and himself, he accepted a cup of wine from the Lady of the Court. Tamara took a sip before strolling towards the glass windows, and he followed suit.

“I see you wasted no time in answering my summons, brother,” Tamara remarked, her tone tinged with amusement as she caressed the feathers of an Orderian Owl perched nearby.

“It was imperative, given the recent developments within our realm, Sister,” he replied, stepping closer to her.

“After sending the message, I realized you could have simply used the Orderian owls to communicate. I’ve grown quite fond of them; they allow me to correspond with my friends in Remolussium,” Tamara mused, scratching the owl’s head absentmindedly.

“Some matters are too weighty for mere owl messages. My presence here underscores the gravity of the situation,” he explained, his gaze fixed on the landscape beyond the window. “Do we have any leads on the identity of the individual entombed in that crypt?” he inquired, turning to meet his sister’s gaze reflected in the glass. From her expression, it was clear she was as puzzled as he was.

He sighed heavily at the realization. “At least I’m not the sole one kept in the dark. Nonetheless, this situation remains dire,” he admitted, casting a direct gaze at his sister. “Even the imperial phalanx, unbeknownst to them, stands guard over such a site.”

“But doesn’t the imperial phalanx report directly to you?” Tamara sought clarification.

“Yes, they do. But you know what the records indicated? That place was a concealed passageway leading directly to the plains of Tamara and the Huertian Principality. Thieves and smugglers could traverse it undetected, slipping past our defenses. Hence, the phalanx stands vigilant, unaware of the true nature of what they guard,” he explained solemnly.

“A tomb,” Tamara murmured, taking a sip of her wine.

“But it’s not just any tomb, dear Sister. No, this tomb was made for kings, perhaps even an emperor,” he elaborated.

Tamara’s expression shifted, her surprise evident. “A king, or an emperor? Buried there?” she repeated incredulously.

“Yes, indeed. Carved directly into the mountain, adorned with our emblems and statues,” he confirmed.

“A name? Was there a name inscribed?” Tamara inquired eagerly.

“Unfortunately, it seems that someone intentionally scratched off the tomb,” he replied, meeting his sister’s gaze squarely. “We must uncover the truth behind this clandestine burial, particularly the identity of the individual interred within. This is no ordinary noble’s resting place. We must scour the imperial library for any records pertaining to it,” he concluded firmly.

Tamara’s voice carried a note of concern as Emerys refilled her cup with wine, a silent gesture of hospitality. “I’ve already set the masters of knowledge on the task,” she remarked, her tone suggesting a blend of determination and uncertainty. “But considering the gravity of your revelation, it might be prudent to summon the recordsmaster to the palace. The conventional search through our libraries may yield little.”

He nodded in agreement, his expression reflective of his sister’s apprehension. “Agreed. We must gather every document pertaining to that tomb. Perhaps they hold the key to understanding why it was targeted.”

Tamara’s curiosity then turned to the potential treasures within the tomb. “Were there any valuables? Gold, maybe?”

“None,” he responded solemnly. “And even if there were, the raiders left no trace. It’s as if they found what they sought and destroyed the rest.”

Intrigued, Tamara sought clarification on the tomb’s state. “Destroyed? How?”

“It appears the raiders had already claimed their prize,” he explained, observing the confusion on his sister’s face. “I share your bewilderment, Your Highness. What value could a mere corpse hold for them?”

Emerys interjected with a suggestion tinged with unease. “Could it be the work of a cult?”

Tamara dismissed the notion with a shake of her head. “Surely not, Emerys. Cultists wouldn’t dare challenge our forces. It’s preposterous.”

Her advisor persisted, mindful of the empire’s current vulnerabilities. “Nevertheless, Your Highness, we must consider all possibilities. With our military stretched thin, even the most unlikely threats warrant attention.”

He couldn’t shake off the nagging doubt lingering in his mind as Tamara and Emerys engaged in conversation. While they delved into discussions, his gaze wandered toward the distant city walls under construction. The notion of cult involvement troubled him deeply. How could they overpower seasoned soldiers of the phalanx, let alone breach the cavern undetected?

As Tamara voiced her concerns, attempting to lighten the mood with a laugh, he felt compelled to reassure her. “Everything will be fine. They always bounce back. We just need patience,” he offered, hoping to alleviate her growing unease. “I promise, dear sister. Ensuring our safety will be my utmost priority.”

Tamara’s response betrayed her lingering discomfort, punctuated by a sip of wine. “I hope you’re right, brother. I truly do.”

Attempting to broach the topic of governance in the north, he said “Look, what if you just assign a new governor but—”

“I am against it,” Tamara said, quickly interrupting him.

Undeterred, He pressed the issue, “Why so? We need to secure the north. We need those iron and holenshartz ores from their mines. We need the holenshartz now more than ever. You need to make a choice, Queen Tamara. We can’t have this kind of petty politics while the War for Shardon is happening,” he explained to her.

Tamara’s response was firm, her fingers tapping against the cup in emphasis. “War for Shardon? Is that how we’re framing it now, dear Brother?” Her words cut through the air, halting his argument. “We’ve no desire to maintain control over that land. It’s a realm overrun with beasts and dangers, far beyond the might of Arumar’s kingdoms combined.”

“I apologize for my words, your Majesty, but I must insist you to understand the necessity behind our actions,” he attempted to justify his stance.

“So, it’s now an invasion of a desolate land?” Tamara’s question echoed in the room.

“No,” he responded, his voice tinged with uncertainty. It wasn’t an invasion initially, but recent revelations about Xerxecian possession of mencraft weapons suggested a grim possibility: the survival of humanity, possibly enslaved. “There are matters at hand that demand attention.”

“And what might those be?” Tamara inquired, her gaze fixed on him, awaiting an explanation. Yet, he found himself unable to disclose the full extent of his findings.

Sensing his hesitation, Tamara took the lead. “Very well. I understand your concerns for Malatur’Aren. Trust me to handle the political intricacies. Your focus should remain on the raid within our borders. I’ll summon the recordsmaster to investigate the unknown tomb,” she declared resolutely.

He silently yielded, his eyes drifting downward as he retrieved his horned helmet. “Thank you, your Highness. I’ll retire for now.”

“You’ll stay,” Tamara countered firmly. “Your quarters are prepared.”

“The barracks will suffice,” he insisted, but Tamara’s tone brooked no argument.

“As your Queen, I command you to stay,” she asserted, locking eyes with him, her resolve unwavering.

“As you wish, your Grace. I will take my leave,” he said, offering a smile as he bowed. Emerys accompanied him towards the door, but just as they were about to step out, it swung open unexpectedly. A burst of laughter followed, revealing the presence of a child who darted into the room, colliding with him before tumbling to the ground.

As the child struggled to regain footing and faced him, their initial joyous expression melted into a cold stare. A tense silence enveloped them both.

“My child, come here!” Tamara’s voice rang out, drawing the attention of the child, who then scurried towards her embrace. He watched, a mix of surprise and curiosity painting his expression, as Tamara comforted the child while servants hurried to attend to them.

“It’s fine,” Tamara reassured the panting servant who apologized for the child’s behavior.

The child’s gaze remained fixed on him, hostility radiating from their eyes until they were led away from the throne room by the servants.

“Who is the child?” he inquired, perplexed by the unexpected encounter.

“His name was Matty,” Tamara disclosed, revealing a truth that left him stunned. “I adopted him. He’s now your nephew, dear Brother. Matthos is the sole survivor of Melgrace.”

His heart sank at the revelation. A tremor passed through his hand, shaken by the weight of guilt. The child before him was the offspring of the individuals he had once taken the lives of with his own hands, leaving him orphaned. The name “Melgrace” echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of his past actions and the irreversible consequences they had wrought.

"King Ravaen is on the Owl!" The handler's words hung in the air as he suddenly appeared, laden with urgency and mystery. Why would the ruler of another realm be reaching out to Tamara, especially in such a manner?

The sudden arrival of King Ravaen's message sent a ripple of unease through the room. He exchanged a glance with Tamara, both mirroring the same sense of bewilderment.

"He is requesting an immediate audience with the Queen Empress. He says it's a matter of the Empire’s National Security," the handler continued, his tone conveying the gravity of the situation.

Tamara's brow furrowed in concern, her mind undoubtedly racing with questions and uncertainties. "Did he say anything else?" she inquired, her voice betraying a hint of apprehension.

The handler shook his head. "No, but he insists on speaking to you directly. He mentioned something about Everess and the Orderians."

Everess? stirring memories of the recent spat and gripe he has against her. Because of this, it sparked in him fresh worries. Could this be linked to the recent attack, or was it something entirely different? He couldn't shake the feeling of impending danger lurking beneath the surface.

As the weight of Ravaen's message settled upon them, Tamara's gaze met his, silently conveying a shared sense of foreboding. With more questions than answers, they braced themselves for what awaited them in the impending audience with King Ravaen, knowing that the fate of the Empire hung precariously in the balance.

End of Chapter XVI