The Feysac Emperor's sleeping palace embodied the character of his nation: grand, rugged, and austere. Its vermilion walls rose several meters high, surrounded by towers of varying heights, each manned by guards on watch.
After several rounds of inspection, Sophia and Luther, who remained hidden in the shadows, passed through the gates. The walls of the antechamber before them were covered with objects: mounted heads of deer, bears, tigers, and other beasts, gold ornaments with a distinctly Southern Continent style... These trophies surrounded the golden coat of arms in the center, the symbol of the Feysac Royal Family.
Passing through the entrance hall and deeper into the palace, they reached the emperor's bedroom.
The moment they entered, a smell washed over them. It was the heavy scent of incense. Luxurious ambergris burned in a censer, filling the entire room with an excessively cloying sweetness.
Even that, however, could not conceal the odor emanating from the room's occupant-the terrible stench of death, rotten, dank, and nauseating.
The Feysac Emperor lay on a luxurious four-poster bed. His features bore some resemblance to Sophia's, and he had a thick beard. It was clear that he had once been a powerfully built warrior, with a broad frame and well-defined muscles. Sadly, he had now aged terribly. His flesh had wasted away, leaving loose skin draped over his large skeleton.
"Father..."
With complex emotions in her eyes, Sophia walked to the bedside and called to him softly.
The old man did not respond. His eyes remained closed, his breathing faint.
"...When was His Majesty last awake?"
Sophia took a deep breath, then turned to ask the attendant standing in the corner.
"Three days ago, Your Highness," the attendant replied respectfully.
"So the prayers have done nothing."
Sophia gave a quiet, derisive laugh. The attendant lowered