Chapter 46: Xares Empire

  Gideon Vexley was an old baron without lands, and the title felt more like a polite formality than anything binding. He had sold his estate to his nephew a few years earlier when he had finally decided to retreat from all remaining obligations, and the young man had paid him out quite generously. Gideon had never been particularly attached to the soil in the first place. In his earlier life he had served in the army, hardly ever setting foot on his lands because he had risen through the ranks until he held the title of Battle Marshal. The battlefield had been his home far more than any manor house ever could be.

  Nowadays he lived in a spacious villa in Burma, surrounded by wealth he no longer cared much about, and burdened by far more free time than he knew how to fill. Retirement itself had come easily, almost pleasantly, but the life that followed had begun to sicken him with surprising speed. The high society of Burma was exhausting, because every day brought another ball, another banquet, another tedious spectacle that only reminded him how deeply the kingdom had begun to rot from within. People had grown weak and complacent, content to chase pleasure instead of purpose. When Gideon had been young, men and women still strove to become stronger, to better themselves, to pursue rare or unique classes, to rise in level and earn the blessings that gave them the so-called lead in life. That had once been the measure of a person’s ambition. But now they lived only for amusement, drifting from one shallow distraction to the next, and he could hardly stomach watching it any longer.

  Ironically, it was at some of those very parties that Gideon found a new purpose in life again. The nobles of Burma were always trying to outdo each other, so every gathering had a different theme, and every host attempted to impress the wealthy by presenting something no one else could. It was a constant contest of prestige, and naturally not an easy one to win when everyone already had more money than they knew how to spend.

  By pure chance, Gideon attended a party where the host unveiled a collection of newly acquired rarities, items so uncommon that even with unlimited crowns one would struggle to obtain them. They were relics from the lost era, the age now remembered as the golden peak of the Xares Empire before the sudden calamity that reshaped the world some five centuries ago. It had been a time when people, guilds, and even entire small nations vanished without warning. According to the old accounts, the calamity had struck the strongest and most exceptional individuals first, draining the world of its greatest talents. With their disappearance, vast amounts of ancient knowledge vanished as well.

  The empire had suffered the worst of it. Their losses had been so immense that their government collapsed almost overnight. Those who stepped in afterward tried desperately to hold everything together, but without true leadership riots spread, enemies rose, and the empire’s great infrastructure began to crumble. Three hundred years ago they finally lost their struggle, and with them vanished yet another monumental portion of collective knowledge, resources, enchanted items, and irreplaceable treasures.

  Scholars referred to that era as the Obsidian Age, marking its height between year 205 and year 350, even though the age itself stretched from Year 1, the founding of the Empire, until Year 531, when the Confederation Nations finally crushed what remained of imperial rule. After its fall began the Onyx Age, the calendar the world still used, now in its year 204.

  So, when Gideon stood at that party, gazing at relics from a vanished empire displayed beneath shimmering crystal lights, he had gone quiet with fascination. Several named items rested there, each one whispering of a time when people had been stronger, wiser, and far more ambitious than the hollow, crumbling world he saw around him now.

  He had asked the host where the relics came from. The man, who had known Gideon back from his military days, had smiled and introduced him to a circle of collectors who traded in such rarities. That single conversation marked the beginning of Gideon’s long journey into the world of relic hunters and historians of the lost era.

  He found himself bonding with like-minded individuals who shared his hunger for the past. He began to network, to learn how these collectors operated, and eventually he slipped into darker circles as well. The named items were not merely nostalgic antiquities to place behind glass. Many were powerful beyond modern standards, some so absurdly potent that wearing a full set could boost a person’s strength enough to overcome level gaps in the triple digits. That knowledge had changed something inside him. His fascination turned into something deeper, something almost dangerous. It became a chance for a second summer in his life, perhaps even a full second youth.

  To his own surprise, Gideon proved remarkably talented at sniffing out rare artifacts and acquiring them. Sometimes he traded, sometimes he bargained, sometimes he paid absurd prices, and sometimes he made money in the process, enough to sustain and even expand his new obsession. Yet deep inside, beneath the polite talk of collections and preservation, he nurtured a private dream.

  He wanted a complete set. A true, ancient, named, full imperial set.

  He wanted to reclaim the strength he had once possessed, perhaps even surpass it, and then return to the wilds. He wanted to fight monsters again, challenge the uncivilized regions beyond the borders, and level up as he once had. Because every level gained extended one’s lifespan a little and returned a sliver of youth. At higher levels the effect grew even stronger. For a man his age, such a possibility was intoxicating.

  And so, Gideon spent the last years traveling through Burm and the neighboring kingdoms, searching for relics from the lost era. His network grew, his knowledge deepened, and he slowly built a modest collection of his own. Then, one day, he received word of a major auction planned in Tiara. Something truly exceptional was said to be part of the offering.

  That alone had been reason enough for him to travel north. He had always liked Tiara, the so-called Pearl of the North. It was a beautiful city in its own way, cultured and bright, and he had several friends living there. He looked forward to the journey, expecting a pleasant visit, a profitable auction, and perhaps another rare relic to add to his collection.

  What he had not expected was how drastically everything would unfold the moment he arrived.

  At first his luck seemed almost absurd. The very first notable person he met in Tiara was an elf, the first he had seen in years. Elves had become so rare these days that even he, a man who had traveled widely and considered himself something of a cosmopolitan soul, was caught off guard. Lysaria Greenwood had introduced herself with composed grace, and he had been immediately captivated. Not only because she was strikingly beautiful in that ethereal elven way, but also because she was clearly a high-profile merchant with powerful connections of her own. To his delight he was able to befriend her, at least on the surface for now, although he was already quietly planning to deepen that bond. Meeting someone like her was so rare that the trip to Tiara had already been worth it a thousand times over in his mind.

  Then she sold him a named item, the [Silverwind Striders]. A complete stroke of fortune. A jackpot.

  And when he brought her to the Salon, she fit in far better than he had expected. The Noble Connoisseurs welcomed her politely, and he could already sense the favors he could call in now that he had brought such a valuable guest into their circle. Things seemed to be aligning perfectly.

  But the moment she left, his streak of good fortune came to an abrupt end.

  First, his friend Nathanel Veyth was found unconscious inside the auction hall. That alone raised far too many questions. Then everyone still present was questioned by the Inquisition because the entire incident was supposedly a cultist affair. And yes, it was. Gideon knew that well enough. Nathanel had always dealt with questionable people and not all artifacts passed through clean hands. But Gideon had kept that to himself. There was no reason to hand the Inquisitors more than they already demanded.

  The next day he gathered some friends from the Noble Connoisseurs and planned to march to the Church of Tiara to throw their collective weight around. The Salon was not merely a circle of collectors, after all. It was a network of trust, of favors, and in some cases even friendship. When trouble arose, they acted together. Afterwards he intended to find Lady Greenwood again so they could attend the auction together.

  But those plans dissolved instantly.

  He had barely stepped out onto the street with a handful of nobles when a demoness descended from the sky above the market square and, with a single proclamation, declared that the Empire of Xares had returned and that Tiara now belonged to it.

  He and the others watched the scene unfold, first from the marketplace and later from the edge of Government Square. They observed every detail with the sharpened focus that came naturally to people of their station. Nobles in this world possessed a subtle instinct for hierarchy, a kind of social intuition shaped by generations of lineage, politics, and bloodline pressure. In the same way a warrior could sense strength or a mage could sense mana, a noble could feel nobility. Not the title, but the essence of it. The real thing.

  And what they felt around her made the hairs on their necks rise.

  Something ancient clung to her presence, something unmistakably commanding. They watched the way she moved, the certainty in her voice, the effortless dominance she displayed on the battlefield, and every instinct they possessed told them the same thing.

  There was no room left for doubt.

  This woman was not pretending. She was true nobility, in the oldest and most dangerous sense of the word. A sovereign by nature, not by claim.

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  She was the real thing.

  A warrior princess, exactly as the old imperial chronicles had described them. And in that moment of certainty, the very dreams that had once driven Gideon to become a collector in the first place stirred awake inside him again, rising from the quiet places where he had buried them years ago.

  So he asked the other nobles what they thought of everything, and to his mild surprise they all reached the same conclusion. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. They were still in a position where they could offer something valuable and receive something far greater in return. Access to forgotten knowledge, to relics, to secrets, perhaps even to a place in whatever was coming next.

  And that was how Gideon found himself now standing beside the nobles of the Noble Connoisseurs who were in Tiara, inside the mayor’s office. Only the person sitting behind the desk was no longer Mayor Rottfeld.

  It was the new ruler of Tiara. At least for now. We will have to see how this turns out, Gideon thought.

  The Princess sat in the mayor’s chair as if it had been carved for her. She still wore her armor, though she had removed her helm and placed it on the desk. Now he could see her clearly. Her eyes glowed a deep, mesmerizing crimson. Her skin was pale, her black hair tied back in a simple ponytail, and from her head curved horns that seemed carved from living stone. She was unmistakably a demon, yet she possessed a beauty so striking and alien that it felt almost painful to look at her for too long.

  And then she spoke, her voice smooth and steady, filling the room with quiet authority.

  “I am Lilithia Nocturne,” the demoness said. “True Princess of the Eternal Empire, Princess of the Abyss, Blood of the High Demons. I heard that you sought an audience. Since you have come to me directly, I am willing to hear you out.”

  Gideon felt the weight of her words settle around him. True Princess of the Eternal Empire… There had always been theories that the term “eternal empire” was not merely decorative. Some ancient scholars believed it had been an earnest title, because entire regions of the empire had once vanished almost overnight. If they could disappear so suddenly, then why should they not return the same way?

  And indeed, she had returned as if appearing overnight.

  Gideon drew a slow breath, steadying himself. Strange how fate works, he thought. Yesterday an elf, today a demon. That is far too much for coincidence. Lady Greenwood had appeared out of nowhere with resources far beyond what an ordinary merchant should possess, and now a princess of the Empire descended upon Tiara as if summoned by the same unseen hand. No, they are connected. And this only proves that extraordinary individuals were already moving behind the scenes long before I set foot in this city.

  The realization did not unsettle him. On the contrary, it gave him confidence. Because if he was right, then by sheer luck and timing he already had one foot inside whatever new order was beginning to rise from the shadows.

  He stepped forward and bowed with practiced ease, speaking in the polished tone expected of a noble addressing royalty.

  “I am Gideon Vexley, Your Highness,” he said. “A humble nobleman of the Kingdom of Burm. By fortune and circumstance, my companions and I”—he gestured politely toward the other nobles—“found ourselves present when Your Highness reclaimed Tiara for the Empire.”

  He paused briefly, watching her face for a reaction, but the Princess remained utterly still, crimson eyes fixed upon him with unreadable calm. Seeing no objection, he continued.

  “We are nobles of the kingdom, but we have long since relinquished our duties. We owe Burm nothing more. Many of us have served it faithfully for decades, only to witness its unfortunate decline in our own lifetimes. We no longer believe the kingdom viable.” His voice grew steadier, more certain. “Since Burm was once part of the Empire of Xares, we see no reason it could not be reintegrated and flourish again under imperial guidance.”

  He bowed his head slightly in respect. “If the Empire truly returns under Your Majesty’s rule and the old ways can be revived, then we would gladly lend our experience. Since Your Highness has claimed this city, we assume the Empire’s resources remain functional to some degree. In that case, we believe we could serve as great assets.”

  His tone softened into diplomatic earnestness. “All we ask is to become part of this restored Empire and gain fair access to its knowledge, its wisdom, and its resources. In return, as seasoned nobles, we are prepared to assume administrative responsibilities, or for some among us even military positions, should Your Highness require them.”

  When he finished, he felt his heartbeat steady again. He had made his pitch, layered beneath proper etiquette and political justification. In truth, it all came down to personal gain in exchange for their service. But such things were rarely spoken aloud. The sentiment itself was honest enough, and any noble with sense would understand the real implications behind his words.

  The Princess tilted her head slightly. “Xares Empire,” she corrected calmly.

  Gideon blinked, unsure he had heard her correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

  “It is not the Empire of Xares,” she said. “It is the Xares Empire. The Empire is the House of Xares, the house of the First Emperor. Everything beneath it is Xares, everything outside it is lesser. It is like your Roman Empire, which was not the Empire of Rome.”

  Gideon paused. He had never heard of any Roman Empire, but the explanation still struck him. It was new to him that anyone would call it the Xares Empire rather than the Empire of Xares, yet it made a strange sort of sense.

  “I apologize, Your Highness,” he said with a respectful bow of the head. “It has been a long time since the Empire was officially present, and perhaps the history books have changed over the centuries. I will not make the mistake again.”

  The Princess nodded slightly, her crimson gaze sweeping across him and the other nobles. “So, you mean it seriously,” she said. “You wish to become part of the Empire. Just like that. I understand your reasoning, but tell me this. If you would abandon your kingdom so easily, why would you not betray the Empire in the future if a better opportunity presented itself?”

  The question hit him harder than he expected. He exchanged a brief glance with the others before returning his gaze to her.

  “Because we are not betraying our kingdom,” he said firmly. “We have not truly been part of it for a long time. And we seek not destruction, but transformation. We see a chance to become more again, to build something greater, and to guide our homeland through a transition rather than watch it decay. Every one of us has family in Burm. We are not here to burn the kingdom down, but to help restore it, and help our people become one again under something stronger.”

  The Princess studied him for a long moment. Her gaze was steady, silent, unnerving in its intensity. Then her expression shifted slightly.

  “Lady Greenwood spoke of you,” she said. “She told me you were one of her acquaintances in Tiara. I will take you at your word.” She leaned back a little, her voice calm and cool. “You will swear an oath of loyalty to me with a curse binding. In exchange, I will grant you access to the upper tiers of the reformed Empire. If that is acceptable to you.”

  The moment she spoke Lady Greenwood’s name, Gideon felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward. I knew it, he thought. She is connected to the Empire. And through her, I already had my foot in the door. This was not coincidence. Not luck. This was fate placing him where he needed to be at exactly the right moment.

  He looked to the other nobles. They all gave subtle nods.

  He turned back to the Princess. “We accept the oath.”

  One by one, the nobles introduced themselves formally. Meanwhile the Princess reached into her space storage and withdrew a large piece of parchment. She removed her gloves, pricked her finger, and wrote directly with her blood, the substance glowing faintly as it mixed with mana she infused into the contract.

  Gideon recognized immediately what she was doing. An oath of loyalty bound by a curse. Not a slave contract, but a powerful magical agreement that imposed severe penalties for betrayal. Such contracts were difficult to forge because binding a potent curse into a document required a mage of exceptional level. They were prohibitively expensive, extremely rare, and normally prepared in elaborate rituals.

  Yet the Princess created one in front of their eyes within minutes.

  It impressed them almost as much as her effortless conquest of the city.

  When she finished, she handed the parchment to them, and they examined the terms. They would serve as nobles of the Xares Empire, swearing loyalty as long as the Empire existed. The contract clearly defined where loyalty ended and where it was required. In return they would be recognized as official imperial nobility, authorized to hold administrative positions, and granted the associated duties, privileges, and payment.

  They would gain access to imperial markets, forges, crafting circles, and item production. Each noble would receive one named item as an initial reward for joining. They would be granted access to collective imperial knowledge, including certain restricted fields.

  And at the very end, the curse was written.

  It was a rotting curse. If the oath was broken, it would activate automatically, bound directly to the soul. The cursed individual would rot from within until their flesh collapsed entirely within a week.

  Gideon and the others felt a cold shiver when they read it. Had the Princess truly embedded such a potent curse into the document on the spot?

  But none of them hesitated for long.

  The promised named item alone was enough to brush aside their unease. And besides, none of them had any intention of betraying the Empire. In the end, it was practically a coin toss. If the Empire vanished again, the contract would be void and nothing would happen to them. If the Empire remained and grew, they would be among its first nobles, rising with it. Wealth, influence, opportunity, and power were all within reach as long as they stood at the beginning of something great.

  It was, in truth, almost a simple decision.

  A chance no sensible collector would ever refuse.

  So, Gideon and the others stepped forward, pricked their fingertips, and signed the contract with their own blood. Each signature glowed faintly as it sank into the parchment, merging with the Princess’s mana. When the last name was written, Lilithia Nocturne touched the page lightly and the contract dissolved into red-black particles that vanished into her inventory.

  She regarded them quietly for a moment before speaking.

  “First of all,” she said, “help me bring order to this city today. I have already prepared a plan for taking control. We will review it now, and you will act according to your assignments. Once everything is settled tomorrow, Lady Greenwood will meet with you all to deliver your promised named items. I was told she is already familiar with several among you besides Vexley, so it is more efficient to let her handle these matters.”

  The nobles exchanged quick glances. Excitement flickered in their eyes, thinly veiled beneath their polite composure. Anticipation and a hint of greed pulsed just under the surface, visible to anyone who knew how to read noble expressions.

  “Of course, Your Highness,” Gideon said.

  The Princess spread several documents across the mayor’s desk. Each page detailed districts, guard posts, supply points, key officials, chains of command, and temporary measures to stabilize administration. Her handwriting was sharp and precise, the structure of her plan efficient and mercilessly logical.

  Gideon found himself oddly impressed. In all his years serving the kingdom, he had rarely seen plans prepared this quickly or this cleanly.

  They began discussing the necessary steps to secure Tiara, each noble taking a portion of responsibility. Messages had to be delivered, guards reorganized, supply routes assessed, and frightened civilians calmed. Officials had to be summoned or replaced. District leaders had to be introduced to the new authority.

  One by one, tasks were assigned. One by one, the nobles accepted them.

  Within minutes they were no longer a collection of retired aristocrats, but the beginnings of a functioning imperial administration.

  And as they moved, speaking, planning, and preparing to act, Gideon felt a spark inside him that he had not felt in years.

  Purpose.

  He glanced at the Princess again. Crimson eyes gleaming like embers. A smile ghosted across his lips.

  Yes, he thought. This truly was fate.