Chapter 42

The Throne Room of Presidia

Emeria

A wave of energy flared through the throne Emeria sat upon and her bloodstone reacted, glaring a bright red light across the room. A shiver went up her spine as she felt fear for a brief moment which hadn’t been a familiar feeling to her in quite some time. “What was that?” she mused aloud. She was met of course with no response as there was only one other in the throne room and she wasn’t likely to respond unless forced to do so. Emeria pondered this for a few minutes before she came to a conclusion. She had felt this feeling before, she knew that much. Emeria realized that the other time she had felt like this, seeing the throne react like this was when one of the stone bearers died. She felt this way when the last Moren had died and the same when Dracyr had received her stone. A grin crossed her lips as she realized what this meant, “Hmm… So clearly someone has been removed from the board, but I wonder, who could it be?”

Next to Emeria, Dracyr hung from the wall, shackled in place, though she clearly did not have any fight in her. With a whisper, she answered Emeria’s question, “Kraevos.” She glimmered the same way that the bloodstone did, though she was cascading a golden light around her. Dracyr’s form shimmered in the light, though her despondent and defeated look was far from fitting.

Emeria let loose a mad cackle that echoed throughout the throne room. This was a momentous victory for her, Kraevos was the greatest threat she had, without him, her victory was all but certain. Speaking more to hear herself gloat, she aimed her jeers and taunts at Dracyr. “That is splendid, if the old man is dead things are simplified for me. Without him, I doubt his allies will even be half as effective. They’ve lost their head, their brain, and they will fall.”

Without raising her head Dracy simply replied, “They will still come.”

“That’s fine, let them come to me!” Emeria stood and raised her arms, feeling like she was already triumphant. “Let them waltz right up to my doorstep. I will savor each and every one of them one bite at a time until I have had my fill. When I’m done they will all have suffered for the irritation they’ve caused me, because that’s it. That’s all they could amount to, an irritant, a nuisance, no more than a fly. I don’t fear them or anyone else for that matter, with Kraevos gone there is no one who can oppose me.” Emeria was yelling at this point as though she had a real audience or another party to argue against, but instead, there was just Dracyr, and in an opposing side of the room stood Graclose, still and bereft of all hope... “I am Emeria, the empress of this whole land, of all of Surren. I have all that Sacrotia claims for I am Sacrotia itself, why should I fear anything!” Her words through the throne room, awaiting a reply, but none came. Instead, there was just a silence that filled every piece of the room.

Graclose looked to the mad empress, trying to bring up the resolve to fight back, but every ounce of his body stood stock still, afraid of what would happen to his people. In his younger years, he would not have accepted his defeat, but he hadn’t been that man in quite some time. Despite this and almost as a reflex he spoke only saying the name that hung in his heart, “Precia.”

Hearing his words, Emeria turned to Graclose, rage filling her eyes. “I’ve had enough of that name Gracky. Your girlfriend died hundreds of years ago. She was a smart girl and all, but she wasn’t strong enough to survive in the changing world and she wouldn’t last in my new era either. She doesn’t matter anymore, your only concern should be following my orders.”

“She would have stopped you,” Graclose said weakly awaiting Emeria’s violent reply.

Emeria stomped angrily to Graclose and looked up, locking eyes with the towering man, “As I just said, she’s not here, so I guess that doesn’t really matter now, does it?” Graclose looked down at Emeria and couldn’t help but reflexively curl his fist, ready to strike her. “History has chosen me to lead, it was destiny. For centuries after my death, the whole of the world will still know and fear the name Emeria!” Again her words echoed through the chamber. She saw the rage in Graclose’s eyes and played to it, toying with him. “Go ahead and try it, you know you want to. Deep down inside of you there still has to be a little shred of the man you used to be, the man of action and resolve. I just know he’s dying to try and kill me. She took her right hand and unclasped the armor around her collar, leaving her neck bare. “One hit, one strike from the mighty mountain kin, and this all goes away doesn’t it?”

Graclose felt his hands twitch, fighting his every impulse. He knew this was nothing more than a taunt, if a simple strike or chop could’ve killed Emeria, she would have died long ago. All he would do by striking her would be to give her a reason to make others suffer. So despite every urge, every fiber of his being wanting to try and end the mad empress, he resisted and his fist, still clenched, did not move.

A wicked grin crossed Emeria’s lips before she laughed at Graclose. “That’s what I thought,” she said as she struck Graclose in the stomach, dropping him to his knees. “You’re a spineless whelp Gracky. If you were half the man you supposedly were, I wouldn’t be residing in Presidia. You would have brought the kingdoms together and bested me before I even conquered a single kingdom. Instead, I sit here, only a short while from completing my conquest of all of Surren. What would your dear Precia think of what you’ve become?” Rather than lash out, Graclose just began to sob as his head hung low. “You truly are nothing more than a pathetic dog at this point,” Emeria said as she turned away. She continued walking and left the throne room, content with the way things were going.

Emeria walked down the increasingly familiar hallways, crossing halls and going by stairways until she reached the forge low in the castle. Her skin tingled from the heat as she opened the door and went in. The blazing fires and the sound of hammer strikes covered her senses as the silhouette of flames on the walls appeared like shadow puppets behind her. She stepped proudly into the room, marveling at the quality armor and weapons that were being forged. She had already planned to have several of the forge-masters from this place head back to Sacrotia to teach her smiths how to better do their jobs. As she reached the man whom she recognized as the head of the forge she asked, “Is it done yet?”

The man turned around, a look of fear and exhaustion in his eyes. He kneeled down slowly, his joints aching from overwork, “The final piece is cooling as we speak my empress, it should be done within a few hours aside from the adjustments post-fitting.”

Emeria grinned like a child receiving a toy, “Excellent, I am most glad to hear that. It is all exactly done according to the design I discussed with you, right?”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Of course my empress,” The forge master replied, not daring to look up, “I would never dream of deviating from your vision.”

“Good answer, forge master,” Emeria said with a little sadistic glee. The staff of the palace had bent the knee to her rather quickly, each one realizing that any kind of refusal would not only be met with their death but the death of everyone they loved first. She had always been impressed with the metalwork from Draeton, even more so now that she got to see the work put in up close and personal.

“My empress,” the forge master began hesitantly, "If I may though, I do have a question about what I’ve made.”

Emeria’s smile curved back into an emotionless line as she pondered whether to indulge the man or not. In the end, she was so blissfully happy with how things were going, she allowed the question. “I suppose you have been obedient and indulgent enough that I will allow it, though you would be wise not to get into the habit of questioning me.”

“Yes, of course, my empress, I am sorry, this is just practical, I would never dare question anything else, only details of the craft.” He paused for a moment to gather his courage, “This armor that I have made, certainly, this isn’t for battle. Is this some piece of torture?”

Emeria smiled at the forge master, who shuddered in reply. “Not at all, this is to be my personal armor, for battle and however else I see fit, that is why I gave you my specific measurements.”

“But my empress, this isn’t armor as much as it’s a mobile iron maiden,” the forge master stammered. “The pain from wearing such a thing would be excruciating.”

“To a normal person, yes, you are right.” Emeria put her left hand out toward the forge master and took a knife from her belt with her right. She sliced the palm of her left hand and a tendril of blood began to wriggle, slowly winding toward the forge master who stood in a state of shock. “You must remember though, you are not talking to any mere person, you are talking to a goddess of blood who walks the earth.”

The forge master couldn’t move as he watched the tendril approach closer, leaving no more than an inch from his face before it began to retreat into Emeria’s hand. "Yes.. yes my empress,” he muttered weakly. I am so sorry for questioning you at all.”

Emeria smiled again, savoring the man’s terror, “In this one case it is fine, you were only worried about the work you are doing, and for that, I cannot fault you. A normal person such as yourself, though a master of your craft, cannot possibly comprehend the whims of a godly being such as myself.” Emeria stepped close to the forge, staring down into the burning hot coals inside. “You see, godlike beings such as myself are put on this ball of mud as a test. We are here to see how much we can endure, how much we can raise ourselves up and take what is rightly ours. It is my very purpose to stand above all the normal people, those who are inferior to me, and to take my rightful place as ruler of this land. Pain is but one piece of the test that I must pass in order to prove my worth. The more pain a being can endure, the more they are truly capable of in the end.”

Emeria looked around and saw several of the finished pieces of the iron maiden lying on a table nearby. She unclasped a piece of her wrist armor and looked at the new piece. It was rather similar to the armor she had been wearing, lightweight, sturdy, and formed to her specific dimensions. The only true difference was that on the inside of the armor, every few inches was a spike ready to bite into her. She put on the new wristguard and felt the spike press into her flesh until they began to pierce and draw blood. She felt a rush of pain and ecstasy as her blood began to run to the wounds, allowing her to control it freely without opening a new cut. “You see I have learned to revel in the pain of this life, my own and others. My own p[ain is merely my weakness being forced outside of my body. At this point, I can say for certain that whatever weakness may be in me will be bleed out by this beautiful suit of armor you have crafted for me.” Blood began to trickle around the edges of the wristguard. With a simple thought, the blood retreated, ready to lash out at a moment’s notice. She looked to the forge master once more, with a content look on her face. “You truly have done a splendid job with this, once the last piece is set, please have it delivered directly to the throne room.”

The forge master let out a sigh of relief out, “Thank you, my empress,” he replied. “I tried to follow every detail you asked for, right down to the filigree work on the chest piece. As you requested I am also the only one who worked on this. No one else knows about the iron maiden.”

“Oh, I know that,” Emeria said, placing a hand on the forge master’s cheek. He looked up at her with terror in his eyes. “I’ve had you under watch this whole time. If you had disobeyed me you would already be dead. The fact that you don’t mean you have value to me. Continue to follow my orders obediently and you and your family will get to live. Disobey me and you all die.” Emeria’s gaze looked deeply into the man’s eyes. She was sure she had spooked him enough, so she removed her hand and turned to leave. “Now be a good boy and finish the armor, you wouldn’t want me getting impatient now would you?” She heard no reply, but instead heard the forge master scramble to his feet and back to the iron.

Emeria walked from the room with a smile on her face. She did quite fancy the new armor. It was exactly as she had hoped. The perfect armor for her to use in battle. She felt giddy at the prospect of getting to test it out by crushing the allies of Kraevos. “Why bother making a single cut when you can have open wounds all the time?” she thought to herself. Once back at the throne room Emeria waved her hand and opened a magic window. The image of a high-ranking soldier appeared on the screen. “General,” Emeria began, “I would like you to move some troops around for me.”

The general came to attention once he heard Emeria’s voice. He saluted his empress with a serious look on his face. “Yes, Empress,” he replied. “Where are my troops needed?”

“Actually it’s more of a where from,” Emeria responded. “There are going to be some people coming soon and I would like them to be able to meet me. I need you to move all your soldiers and guards away from the throne room. I would also like you to tell your men that if they see Moren they must leave him and his group alone.” Emeria wanted to savor the experience of ending the threat against her. Though her smokey ally had urged her to be cautious of Kraevos and his group, she now had a certain confidence that she would triumph with ease.

The general’s face twisted slightly in confusion as he thought about the order. “But My Empress, wouldn’t that leave you alone to be attacked?” the general quickly replied.

“Yes, that would be the point,” Emeria said. “If you or any of your men tried to fight with Moren you would surely die anyway. I am merely letting him through so that I control the battlefield.” She paused for a moment and let her words sink in. “I will be more than enough to handle this, I would not want to risk you and the lives of your troops against the Huntmaster at this time.”

“So you don’t even want our assistance once they reach the throne room?” the general asked, completely befuddled by Emeria’s request.

“No,” Emeria said sharply, “If you are too close I can assure you that you will die and be added to my blood. As glorious a purpose as that is, I have no need of that right now. I will take care of this little group of invaders on my own and once I am done we will have much to discuss with the next phase of conquest in mind.”

“Yes my Empress, I will await your summons after the battle. I will go inform my men now,” the general replied.

With that, Emeria snapped her fingers and the window blinked shut. She took her seat on the throne and licked her lips, this next encounter excited her, after all, she had bested Kraevos with cunning, Dracyr simply gave up and the High Arbiter had joined her side. With Kraevos dead that left Moren as the stonebearer opposed to her. She was salivating at the thought of battle with him. He was strong, sure, but she had broken him before and she looked forward to ending him once and for all this time, which would end all resistance in Surren.