Chapter 536: Chapter-536
"I must admit, Lady Seera," the Emperor sighed, looking down at her with mock sympathy. "I read the morning papers, but I assumed the merchants were exaggerating. I did not realize you were so... deeply and helplessly entangled."
He leaned back against the golden dragons of his throne, waving his hand in a grand gesture of mercy.
"Very well. I am not a cruel tyrant who would sever such a passionate, devoted bond," the Emperor declared smoothly. "If your heart is so thoroughly captured by this man that you would dare reject an imperial match, then I shall not force the issue. Your rejection is forgiven."
A collective sigh of relief washed over the military faction. Grandpa Marcuset’s shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch.
But Heena didn’t relax. The Emperor’s voice was entirely too accommodating.
"However," the Emperor continued, the amusement completely vanishing from his dark eyes, leaving behind a cold, calculating void.
Heena’s heart sank.
From the front row of the civil faction, the young man in the pristine green-and-white robes stepped out of the formation. The Prime Minister bowed deeply, his movements possessing an eerie, fluid grace.
"Your Imperial Majesty," the Prime Minister spoke. His voice was beautiful—soft, melodic, and completely devoid of human warmth. "If I may be so bold as to speak on this joyous matter?"
"Speak, Prime Minister," the Emperor permitted, a knowing glint in his eye.
The Prime Minister turned gracefully toward Heena. He offered her a polite, entirely lifeless smile. Up close, his dark eyes were completely bottomless, devoid of the fear or disgust the other scholars had shown. He was just looking at a puzzle.
"The Vanguard family is the absolute pillar of our empire’s safety," the Prime Minister murmured smoothly. "If the young heir has found a husband she cherishes so deeply, it is a matter of national importance. A man capable of taming the fierce Madam must be an extraordinary talent. A hidden dragon, perhaps?"
Heena’s blood turned to ice. She stared at the smiling viper, her mind screaming a warning.
"It would be a profound shame to hide such an exceptional talent in the shadows of a military estate," the Prime Minister continued, turning back to the Emperor. "Perhaps, Your Majesty, the court should be graced by his presence? If he is to be the husband of the Vanguard General, his background, his character, and his... origins... should be officially recognized by the throne."
The Emperor smiled warmly.
"A brilliant suggestion, Prime Minister," the Emperor agreed, clapping his hands together once. "It is settled. Lady Seera, I insist. You must bring this fiercely jealous husband of yours to the Imperial Banquet tomorrow evening. The entire royal court is simply dying to meet the man who managed to steal your heart."
Heena remained perfectly still on one knee.
Her fingernails dug so deeply into her own palms that she could feel the leather of her gloves threatening to tear.
They weren’t just insulting her. They were actively pulling Samuel out from the safety of the Vanguard estate and dragging him directly into the blinding light of the Imperial Court. They were going to interrogate him, dig into his past, and expose the ’hidden dragon’ to see if they could find the amnesiac servant hiding underneath.
"This subject..." Heena forced the words out, her voice dangerously flat. "...will absolutely ensure his presence, Your Majesty."
.
.
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Hundreds of miles away from the treacherous, suffocating politics of the capital, a massive, heavily fortified mansion sat nestled in the lush, sweeping valleys of the South.
(So if someone is confused as how she get here so fast so the answer is clear war horse)
This was the ancestral home of the Soram family.
Inside the grand dining hall, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the rigid, rule-bound imperial banquets of the capital. Twelve people sat around a massive, intricately carved wooden table. At the absolute head of the table sat Grandma Marcuset, looking entirely different from the polite, restrained noblewomen of the court. She looked comfortable, dangerous, and absolutely in her element.
The layout of the table was completely untraditional. Flanking the head were two elders—an old man and an old woman, both easily in their late seventies or early eighties, their eyes sharp and clear. Down the sides of the table sat three pairs of men and women in their fifties and sixties. They were all dressed impeccably in rich, practical silks, projecting an aura of immense wealth and unyielding determination. Despite their age, they all possessed a striking, youthful vitality.
In the background, out in the sunlit courtyard, a dozen small children from the youngest generation were running around, laughing and playing with wooden swords, completely oblivious to the empire-shaking conversation happening inside.
The old man at the table set down his teacup. He looked at Grandma Marcuset, his weathered face serious.
"Are you absolutely sure about this?" the old man asked, his gravelly voice cutting through the quiet chatter of the hall.
Grandma Marcuset met his gaze without a hint of hesitation, a fierce smile curving her lips. "Of course, Granduncle. I am definitely sure."
The old man sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in sheer exasperation.
"First of all," the old man grumbled, pointing a wrinkled finger at her. "I am not your granduncle. I am your uncle. Call me Big Uncle. And secondly... if you do this, you will be directly going against the Emperor. I will ask you again: are you sure?"
Grandma Marcuset scoffed, a dark, cynical laugh escaping her chest. She leaned back in her heavy wooden chair, crossing her arms.
"All this time, my husband and I made sure to stay in our lane," Grandma said, her voice dripping with venom. "We stayed at peace. We played the game. And what did it get us? Even after all this time, the imperial family simply cannot stop themselves. They try to put their greedy hands inside our house again and again!"
She looked around the table, her piercing gaze meeting the eyes of her powerful relatives one by one.
"Yes, I am sure," Grandma declared, her voice rising with a protective fury. "Even if I do not do anything now, what happens when time finally catches up to me and that old idiot I married? When we are gone, wouldn’t these royal parasites just reach out and touch my granddaughter? Wouldn’t they take my family’s lifelong achievements and use them as their own personal playthings?"
She slammed her hand down flat onto the table. The heavy porcelain teacups rattled, but no one flinched.
"Ha!" Grandma spat. "When the border wars were raging, those imperial bastards stayed securely behind their closed palace doors! They acted as ’overseers’ while sipping fine wine, completely refusing to do a single bit of actual work or take a single arrow for their own people! Meanwhile, my old man went to the front lines. He bled for them. He got injured so badly he nearly met the God of Death half a dozen times. And only then did he win the victorious battle and safeguard this empire’s citizens for decades."
Her eyes blazed with the terrifying, unyielding pride of a matriarch who had built an empire of her own.
"And yet, these ungrateful bastards think that just because my family’s power threatens their fragile egos, they can dare try to kill my bloodline?" Grandma sneered, standing up from her chair. "Do they truly think that I, a daughter of this family, carrying the strongest Soram blood in my veins, am just some decorative porcelain vase that anyone can touch and discard? How the hell did they ever find the absolute audacity to even think about it?!"
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