[The Spacetime That Might Exist] Before the Throne

Inside the palace hall, dozens of enormous magical chandeliers hung high, illuminating the soaring dome and every inch of the marble floor inlaid with dark patterns, leaving no shadows. The air was filled with the clean and cool scent of stone and rare fragrant wood, which had been carefully maintained for many years.

The emperor sat on his throne. His long, golden hair, parted to the side, was neatly combed without a single stray hair. He looked to be in his thirties, with deep features, and wore a black robe embroidered with intricate dark gold imperial crests. One hand rested casually on the gilded armrest, his palm supporting his cheek, his gaze lowered as he looked down.

How was the dance?

Fres knelt on one knee on the spotless floor. Her dark blue commander's uniform was perfectly pressed without a single wrinkle, and her short blonde hair was tied into a neat low ponytail. She lowered her head, her gaze fixed on the ground a step in front of her, her voice steady and without any extraneous inflection.

"No problems at all, the security system is in place. State Guest Lady Serie has arrived at the venue. As scheduled, His Majesty will have a formal meeting with her shortly."

The emperor shifted his posture, lowering the hand that had been supporting his cheek and raising the other, his fingertips gently stroking his smooth chin, a look on his face that was somewhere between contemplation and amusement.

"I heard she brought quite a few attendants with her." He tilted his head, his tone carrying a childlike contemplation, "Should I perhaps 'confront' her a little?"

"Your Majesty should naturally maintain the appropriate decorum," Fres said calmly. "I will arrange for Magical Special Forces to accompany Your Majesty as escorts."

The emperor didn't seem particularly concerned about the arrangement. He leaned back, completely nestled into the soft, deep red velvet cushions of the wide throne, and then reached out and picked up a crown, a symbol of supreme power, from a cushion of the same color beside him.

The crown, set against a base of heavy black velvet, is inlaid with rows of highly precise gemstones, decreasing in size, arranged in a symmetrical and sharp cross-shaped pattern. At the center of the crown is a perfectly round, deep black main stone, seemingly containing the starry sky, while the crown band is densely covered with tiny but dazzling crystals. Under the omnipresent bright lights of the hall, the entire crown radiates a cold, luxurious, and heavy luster.

He held the crown in his hand, his fingertips brushing against the cool surface of the gemstones, as if weighing its weight, or perhaps just unconsciously playing with it.

"No rush, it's alright," he said, his voice sounding somewhat casual in the empty hall. "Appearing later will better highlight your importance."

"Yes, sir," Fres replied, her head still bowed.

The hall fell silent for a moment.

The emperor's casual expression faded. He lowered his hand from the crown and his gaze fell on Fres's lowered head.

"There's one more thing, Fres."

"Yes."

"You... don't you have anything else to say to me?"

Fres remained kneeling, her back ramrod straight.

"Your report is now complete."

The emperor looked at her, remaining silent for a few seconds. His fingers slowly traced the cool, jeweled surface of the crown.

"Duncan... you deliberately excluded him from tonight's dance, didn't you?" He stopped using a question and his tone became flat. "What are you up to?"

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and casually placed the magnificent black velvet crown on the thick velvet carpet beside his legs.

"No need to stand on ceremony. If you have any plans, let me get involved." His face showed little expression, but the light in his eyes settled, becoming very calm. "According to the script Duncan arranged for you—or rather, tacitly approved—I will meet with the Great Mage Serie at tonight's ball and ultimately conclude that 'Friendly Relations Treaty.' And you? What is your script? What role will I play in it? Or rather... what 'choice' will I make?"

Fres finally raised her head.

Her face bore the hard, cold lines etched over the years by countless commands and killings. The frameless pince-nez glasses on her nose reflected the overly bright light cast from the high hall above, making it difficult to see her eyes behind the lenses. But her face was precisely turned toward the throne, calmly meeting the emperor's gaze.

"Your Majesty need not trouble yourself." Her voice was perfectly flat, each word as precise as if measured with a ruler. "This matter arose from my disobedience to Your Majesty's orders and my own reckless actions. Your Majesty need not take any action, nor make any choice."

The emperor leaned back in his chair, propping his head up with his hand again, looking even more relaxed than before, but his gaze remained fixed on Fres's face.

"I want you to explain."

Fres met his gaze for two seconds. Then, she lowered her eyes, not out of fear, but more as a polite way of avoiding him.

She rose to her feet with an extremely precise, almost cold, posture, standing at attention. Every edge of her dark blue uniform was as sharp as a knife. Then, she turned to the side, strode towards the two heavy, gilded doors of the main hall. The hard soles of her military boots struck the smooth marble floor with a steady, clear, and perfectly synchronized sound, echoing lonely notes in the empty hall without any hesitation or delay.

She stopped in front of the massive gate, her back to the emperor on the throne.

"Please forgive me, Your Majesty." Her voice came from the doorway, still steady, yet revealing a hardened, metallic resolve. "If Your Majesty wishes to execute me, please wait until tonight is over."

The emperor sat on his high throne, gazing at her straight, spear-like back, and suddenly let out a low, nasal laugh. The laugh was soft and brief, revealing no obvious emotion.

"Sent to your death?" He shook his head, as if he had heard some absurd suggestion beyond comprehension. "You dare to say that, Fres. If I knew how to kill you, I would have sent you to the execution platform the first time you openly disobeyed me."

The smile on his face faded, and his tone became flat.

"Fres, you don't have to bear the burden of this declining empire alone."

Fres's hand, resting on the cold metal doorknob, her five white-gloved fingers curled inwards almost imperceptibly, tightening the leather back of the glove. But almost instantly, the tension vanished, and her fingers straightened again. The movement was so quick it was almost an illusion.

The emperor continued speaking, his gaze seemingly passing over her and looking into the distance.

"Up until now, I have tacitly approved of your and Duncan's actions. Although your styles are completely opposite, I know very well that you are both trying to protect this country in your own ways. Just as I did for Duncan, I also hope... to do something for you."

After he finished speaking, he stood up from the throne. He casually picked up the magnificent black velvet crown and held it in his hand.

Fres did not turn around. She stood there silently, her back straight as a steel blade that would never bend.

After a few seconds, she spoke. Her voice was lower than before, but clearer, each word like a chisel carved into the silent air bathed in light.

"Then, Your Majesty, please continue to acquiesce, as you have so far."

She gripped the doorknob and pressed down. The metal mechanism made a slight clicking sound.

"Forgive my bluntness," she said finally, as she pushed open the heavy, massive door. Her voice held no personal emotion, yet it possessed a weighty, unwavering strength, as if fused with her very being, "The Empire will not decline. Its history spans a millennium, and it will continue to do so, until the day when all people can use magic at will."

As soon as she finished speaking, she pushed open the door and walked out. The heavy palace doors slowly closed behind her, sealing away the dazzling lights and silence within the hall once more.

The emperor stood alone before the throne, gazing at the tightly closed door. His face was expressionless; he simply stared silently for a moment, then turned and sat back down on the throne.

He looked down at the crown in his hand, a symbol of supreme power. The jewels gleamed with a cold, eternal light under the lamplight.

"The empire will continue..."

He muttered to himself, his fingers unconsciously tracing the delicate velvet edge of the crown.

"Fres, you actually understand the Empire's current predicament better than anyone else."

He shook his head.

"It's incredible. The sight of those colossal creatures that have existed for thousands of years finally meeting their end... is simply unimaginable."

He toyed with the crown in his hand for a moment, then raised his hand and placed it neatly and precisely on his head. The weight of the black velvet and gemstones rested on his hair, bringing a familiar and heavy touch.

"It's really heavy."

He shifted to a more casual posture, crossing his legs on the wide throne, one hand still resting on the cold, golden scepter. His gaze, however, was fixed on the high dome of the hall, painted with the myth of the Goddess's creation, as if he could see through the magnificent paintings and hard stone walls to the dazzling, ethereal banquet lights lit for the celebration, and beyond those lights, the unfathomable, eternally unchanged night.

"Even so," he said softly, his voice barely audible in the empty hall, yet carrying a certain knowing calm.

Nothing in this world is permanent.

Even an empire that has lasted for a thousand years...

He paused, his gaze falling from the dome to his bare palm, gloved in white, and then slowly closed his fingers.

"... wouldn't be an exception either."