Loud footsteps echoed between imposing stone columns, rising to a high vaulted ceiling. A middle-aged man in a beautifully decorated robe paced down a massive corridor, ignoring the salutes of the various fully armoured guards he passed along the way.

  His beard was well-trimmed, as was his hair, coiffed backwards, giving him a regal look. A few strands of white were strewn within, accenting his air of importance and experience but also matching well with the vibrant white jewel dangling from his left ear, pulsing with might and power.

  The corridor led to two massive doors, where two women waited. Their eyes were stern, almost feral, and their hands softly rested on the blade at their hips as they observed a man approaching at a quick pace.

  “Let me through!” the man barked, his tone imperative, yet the two women didn’t move a single inch, standing before the doors as if to bar his path. They didn’t utter a single word, nor was there a change in their expression, as if two dolls created for the sole purpose of battle.

  “Out of the way!" the man barked again, but his stride had stopped, and he could not go further.

  He tried to push past the two women, but they unsheathed their blades a mere inch out of their scabbards in response, prompting him to stop. His frustration was apparent; he merely stood in place until a soft voice pierced through the two massive stone doors.

  “Do let him through, my dears.”

  Without a word, the two blades fell back into their respective sheaths as the two women stepped to the side, offering the man passage. The doors began to open on their own, creating a slight tremor that propagated throughout the hall. The hall started to resonate, creating a strange hymn that sought to burrow into the middle-aged man's heart, yet it was to no avail as the jewel on his ear glowed, resisting the might of this song.

  The man scoffed as he pushed past the two guards and entered the isolated room. He was met by a woman sporting a purple dress lying on her side on a simple but soft couch facing a large glass window that offered a magnificent view of the city.

  It was midday. The sun shone its warmth onto the world below, where countless people lived in this metropolis, utterly unaware of the woman looking down on them from her high perch as she slowly ate juicy grapes with a slight smile.

  "Magister Reinhardt. I do not usually accept meeting others without a prior appointment, but I made an exception for you. Will you not show your appreciation for this grace? Surely, a man of your stature wouldn't be that rude."

  She didn't turn to face him nor rose from her seat, only lazily looking at the man's semi-transparent reflection through the glass. The man's face soured at her words, which couldn't help but prompt the smile on her lips to widen.

  Despite the rage bubbling within the man's heart, he couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine. No matter how often he was to meet this peculiar woman, he always felt her smile was eerie, as if no emotions besides amusement would ever warp her features.

  “No, your Grace,” the man said, bowing stiffly, one hand slightly bent over his abdomen while the other remained behind his back. “I am eternally grateful to be given this audience despite the urgency of my arrival.”

  The world remained silent except for the sounds of small grapes being crushed under the lady's teeth and the succulent juices flowing down her throat. The man remained bent at a ninety-degree angle, gazing at the floor, awaiting something. Yet, his rage couldn't help but mount, almost letting him forget his reasons for coming here.

  "You may rise," she said just as the man was reaching the limit of his patience, almost as if she precisely knew the opportune moment to speak. "I suspect this concerns your daughter?"

  Her tone was light, yet not quite mocking. In fact, it seemed closer to dismissal, as if the man's concerns were beneath her, yet she was magnanimous enough to hear him out. Obviously, the man picked up on the undertones yet couldn't bring himself to lambaste her for it. He could only grit his teeth and bear with it for now.

  “Indeed, it does, My Lady. I heard Lady Lancaster has offered her a place among your personal guard...”

  “And so, you have come to inquire whether or not I was the one to extend this invitation?” the lady interrupted him. The man remained calm, yet the answer was nonetheless written on his face. "Is my answer meaningful to your daughter? Would it change her answer or merely yours?"

  The man’s body tightened as he noticed her smile grow slightly wider. Her eyes were fixed onto him through the glass, almost as if trying to peer into his soul. His earring glowed brighter, regardless of his will, yet was extinguished with but a look from her.

  The man couldn’t help but break out in cold sweat, drenching his long robes, for there was no similar earring on the woman’s ear. Yet, the waves of power emitted from her body were much too real to ignore.

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  “I... wouldn't dare... interfere with your will," the man said with extreme difficulty, fighting his urge to turn and run away. "Regardless, I must ensure the best for my daughter. I'm sure you understand."

  “Of course, I do, My Dear Magister," she replied, chuckling slightly. "I am fully aware of how much you value your family. Isn't that why you once promised her to that young boy, only to have him break the engagement once he became unfit for her? A father's love knows no bounds. I also heard you chose another promising young man for her. Let us hope this one proves more fitting than the last.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed, yet his dread was almost overwhelming. Still, there was something in her words—something he wouldn’t dare to miss.

  “Are you... still agreeing to this marriage?” he asked cautiously, yet her features were now hidden from the reflection in the glass.

  “I have high hopes for your daughter,” the lady replied. “She may still be young, but I know she will make the right choice.”

  The man stood silent, ruminating on the meaning of her words. Yet her intentions were always cryptic. She never let her true thoughts be shown to the world, always watching from above like an eagle ready to pounce on its prey.

  “That being said, I doubt this inquiry was your only intention when coming here.”

  She let the words hang, not pushing further. Yet, it gave the Magister time to put his thoughts in order and take a deep breath.

  “There’s been movements to the east,” the man said. His tone was cold and sharp, while his eyes showed a profound seriousness. "The mountain ranges have become restless. In fact, the border has reported an increase in skirmishes. There's no telling when they might flood the plains."

  “I’ve heard,” she replied dismissively.

  “Should we not take action?" the man frowned. "The longer we wait, the more the situation may grow out of control. Best to nip this in the bud before the danger escalates."

  “Is that the Magisterium's consensus or merely your opinion on the matter?" she said, gazing intensely at the man's reflection.

  He couldn’t help but swallow, letting the sound reverberate throughout the room. His body tensed at the sight of the lady’s gaze. Yet, he answered regardless.

  "I merely wished to know your thoughts, Your Grace."

  She chuckled, easing the tension as her gaze lowered toward the city below.

  "No need to be so tense, My Dear Magister. I know your loyalty to the Imperium all too well. From the reports I obtained, we have yet to receive a single mage casualty. Is that accurate?"

  A beautiful woman with hair as red as fire stepped forward, surprising Magister Reinhardt. He knew there were some spying on them from the shadows, yet hadn’t expected her, of all people, to be the one to step forward.

  “Your Grace... What's the meaning of this?" the man said, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at the woman lazily lying on the couch.

  “You misunderstand me, My Dear Magister," the purple-dressed lady chuckled. "Magister Lawrence was here even before you arrived at our door. I wasn't aware you hadn't noticed her presence. Now, Lawrence, if you would."

  The man's expression grew sour as he looked at the fiery-haired woman, who took a few steps forward and stood next to the couch. She didn't look at the man, barely even recognizing his existence, which infuriated him even more.

  "You are correct, Your Grace," the woman said. "There has yet to be a single casualty from the mages posted at the border facing the mountain ranges."

  She was soft-spoken, yet her tone carried an air of grace and authority, almost prompting the middle-aged man to recoil a few steps in deference. Yet he stood his ground, but his expression grew even more sour.

  “Of course, there hasn't been!" The man snapped back, letting his frustration vent. "None of them even saw battle! They let our armies take the brunt of it while safely staying in the rear. A few villages have already been decimated. There were no survivors!"

  “And, how would that be of any concern to us?" the red-haired lady replied. A slight smile appeared on her lips, yet her eyes were much too cold in contrast. "This is a failure of the Army; have them take responsibility. Properly trained mages are too valuable to be used in skirmishes against mere beasts. If we were to do so, it would be seen as weakness for the surrounding countries. These vultures would wish for nothing more than to tear us apart, plundering the wealth we have acquired ever since our Empire's founding."

  “But we can't just keep ignoring it!" the man snapped back. "It's called the Devil's Horns for a reason! We have no idea what goes on in the valley where those two mountain ranges meet, and now they have started spilling out from it, decimating the local population. If they aren't stopped, they may even well reach all the way to the Capital, and then what?"

  The man was fuming, his voice slowly growing in intensity, yet the fiery-haired woman only looked on dismissively, almost as if watching over a disobedient child throwing a tantrum. On the other hand, the purple-dressed lady on the couch merely smiled, watching the show.

  “We have forts in the way, don’t we?” the woman replied. “Why not have the army use that to stop them?”

  "Meanwhile, countless people will die! Is that what you want?"

  “Risking losing our mages for a few measly villages on the outskirts of the Empire isn’t worth it,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Besides, I didn’t peg you as one to care about the fates of mere peasants. What are you seeking to gain out of this?”

  The man gritted his teeth, his fury spilling forth from his mouth in the form of a single word, "Bitch!"

  He said it under his breath, yet it cut through regardless, letting the woman hear it loud and clear. She frowned as her mouth twitched slightly, yet she was promptly stopped before she could reciprocate in kind.

  "Enough," the lady said. Her voice was calm, yet her eyes showed no emotions. Only a mere moment later, they lit up, and a slight smile appeared on her lips.

  "Magister Lawrence is right," she added. "We can't afford to send our mages to deal with this, yet we cannot rely on the army. So, let's reach a compromise. Don't we have soon-to-be mages in need of practical experience?"

  The man’s eyes widened, disbelief clear on his face.

  “You can’t mean...”

  "But of course," the lady smiled. "Isn't your daughter about to graduate? I'm sure she would relish the opportunity to further her family's glory by leading her fellow students on this quest."

  “She is still a child, unworthy of this heavy responsibility..." the man said, his voice now much more subdued.

  “I wouldn't consider a twenty-year-old a child," the lady rebutted. "Even if she were, she is still a citizen of this Empire and must fight to defend it. This is her duty, as it is yours. Besides, my will is final. Have I made myself understood?"

  The man gritted his teeth, casting a look at the red-haired woman at her side, only to relent soon after.

  “Of course, My Lady Archon, Sun of the Imperium," he said solemnly. "Your will will be done."

  He then turned and walked out of the room, sporting a look of defeat laced with frustration, leaving the two women behind. However, the lady in purple didn't even deign to acknowledge it, merely looking down on the city below, only for a slight smile to grace her small lips.