Chapter 616: Chapter-616
In the same way the Vanguard shadow guards were fiercely, undeniably loyal to Heena and her grandfather, the Black Feathers were the Emperor’s personal attack dogs. But while the Vanguard guards still possessed a shred of human morality and familial warmth, the Black Feathers had none of it.
They only knew the Emperor. They only cared for the Emperor.
Titles, wealth, and aristocratic honor meant absolutely nothing to them. If the Emperor suddenly pointed a finger at his own beloved Empress and ordered them to execute her, the Black Feathers wouldn’t even blink before severing her head. If the Emperor ordered them to slaughter the entire capital city, they would draw their swords and start marching down the streets without a second thought.
You couldn’t argue with them. You couldn’t bribe them. You couldn’t threaten them.
The Emperor almost never let them out of the inner palace unless he needed something incredibly dangerous quietly taken care of.
As Heena fell back into step, completely surrounded by the three lethal assassins, a dark, chilling realization washed over her.
She might actually be the first person in the history of the empire to receive an "appointment" escort from the Black Feathers and still be breathing. Whatever the Emperor wanted to discuss in that cheap hotel room, it was big enough that he didn’t even trust his own Imperial Guards to get her there.
The South Side Market at dusk was a chaotic, overwhelming sensory overload.
The narrow dirt streets were packed shoulder-to-shoulder with merchants shouting prices, the air thick with the smell of roasting skewers, cheap alcohol, and sweat. Lanterns began to flicker to life as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, erratic shadows across the bustling stalls.
It was the absolute last place on earth anyone would expect to find the ruler of the empire.
As Heena walked through the dense crowd, she noticed something chilling. The three Black Feathers didn’t shove anyone. They didn’t draw their weapons or shout to clear a path. They simply moved through the chaotic mass of humanity like ghosts, entirely silent and completely unnoticed. Yet, somehow, the commoners subconsciously stepped out of their way, driven by an instinctual, primal urge to avoid the walking embodiment of death.
They finally stopped in front of a dilapidated, two-story wooden inn. The paint was peeling, and the sign hung on a single rusty hinge, squeaking miserably in the wind.
One of the Black Feathers stepped forward and opened the creaking wooden door. He didn’t say a word, merely gesturing for her to enter.
Heena took a deep breath, adjusted the hilt of her broadsword, and stepped into the dim, dusty interior. The tavern area on the ground floor was completely empty—a clear sign that the Black Feathers had already silently cleared the building. She walked up the creaking wooden stairs, stopping in front of the only room on the second floor with a light glowing beneath the doorframe.
She pushed the door open.
The room was exactly as the address promised: a cheap, cramped hotel room. The bed was small, the floorboards were uneven, and the single wooden table in the center was heavily scarred with knife marks.
Sitting at that scarred table, pouring himself a cup of cheap, low-grade tea from a cracked clay pot, was the Emperor.
He had shed his heavy, golden dragon robes and his towering imperial crown. Instead, he was dressed in the plain, unassuming brown hemp robes of a traveling merchant. His hair was tied back with a simple wooden stick. Without the blinding gold and the grand architecture of the throne room to frame him, the Emperor didn’t look like a god.
He looked like an incredibly dangerous, seasoned war veteran with eyes that missed absolutely nothing.
"Close the door, Vanguard," the Emperor commanded, his deep voice easily cutting through the ambient noise of the market outside.
Heena stepped inside and shut the door firmly behind her. She immediately dropped to one knee, bringing her hands together in a crisp, flawless military salute.
"This subject greets His Majesty," Heena said smoothly.
Hovering nervously in the corner of the ceiling, the System curled itself into a tight ball, its digital fur standing on end. "Host... this guy’s aura is terrifying. Do not make him mad. Please."
The Emperor took a slow sip of the terrible tea, entirely unfazed by the bitter taste. He set the cup down and looked at her kneeling figure.
"Stand up and sit down," the Emperor ordered, gesturing to the rickety wooden stool across from him.
Heena rose gracefully and took a seat. She kept her posture perfectly straight, her hands resting on her knees, waiting for the Emperor to make the first move.
For a long moment, the Emperor just looked at her. He studied her calm face, her dark, unreadable eyes, and the heavy broadsword resting casually against her thigh.
"You put on quite a magnificent performance this morning, little Vanguard," the Emperor finally said, a faint, dangerous amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. "I must admit, when the Prime Minister banged the urgent petition drum, I fully expected him to lay out a flawless, inescapable trap. I did not expect him to be publicly exposed as an incompetent deviant and suspended from my court."
"I merely presented the evidence, Your Majesty," Heena replied, her tone perfectly even, maintaining absolute innocence. "The Prime Minister’s own actions were his undoing."
The Emperor let out a sharp, dark bark of laughter.
"Save the diplomatic garbage for the civil officials, lady seera," the Emperor warned, though he didn’t look angry. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the scarred table, his gaze piercing right through her. "I know exactly what kind of man the Prime Minister is. He is ruthless, he is paranoid, and he is a master of the shadows. He does not employ leather-clad lovers, and he certainly does not orchestrate sloppy ambushes in the Cold Palace."
Heena didn’t flinch. She simply stared back at him.
"I don’t know how you did it," the Emperor continued, his voice dropping to a low, lethal murmur. "I don’t know how you stole his jade token, I don’t know how you dissolved the bodies of his elite assassins before my guards arrived, and I don’t know how you managed to completely drug his mind so he couldn’t form a coherent defense on the floor of my Great Hall."
The System let out a terrified squeak. The Emperor knew everything.
The Emperor leaned back, picking up his cracked teacup. "But I do know one thing. You played the highest-ranking civil official in my empire like a cheap fiddle, and you used my throne room as your personal stage."
Heena’s hand subtly drifted a fraction of an inch closer to the hilt of her sword. If he was going to execute her for treason, she wasn’t going to go down without burning the building to the ground.
But the Emperor didn’t call for the Black Feathers.
Instead, a slow, incredibly predatory smile spread across his weathered face.
"And that," the Emperor said, raising his teacup to her in a mock toast, "is exactly why I called you here. The Vanguard family has always been my sharpest broadsword on the battlefield. But today... you proved that you can also be my most venomous dagger in the dark."
The Emperor set the cup down, his expression hardening into absolute, terrifying seriousness. "I have a problem, lady seera. A problem that my Imperial Guards cannot solve, and a problem that is too politically delicate for my Black Feathers to simply butcher. I need someone who thinks like a sociopath."
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