"The sword rules for a moment. The word rules forever." — Ancient Denthall Proverb
The Senate Hall, carved from white marble a thousand years ago, was once believed to echo only the voice of authority. But on this morning, its walls reflected something far darker: fear, faith, and ambition.
Three steps above the chamber floor, at the center of the crescent-shaped podium, stood Emperor Kael VI, clad in bronze armor draped in a crimson robe. When his golden staff struck the stone once, silence fell like a sacred chant.
"Those who steal iron are not my concern," he declared."It is those who corrode order that stand before me. Speak of the rot beneath our foundation. Do not veil the truth. In this hall, only truth shall be spoken."
The first voice to rise was that of High Priest Vellor. His beard reached his knees; his eyes were closed, but his voice echoed like thunder.
"The Sacred Flame is dying, Your Majesty. The people have turned their backs on prayer. The temples are empty.And we know… a city without faith is a city without walls.Rebels like Lemor are born in hollow souls."
Some senators nodded in agreement. Others sneered.
Auren Val, commander of the eastern legions, rose with a sharp motion. The silver insignia on his chest gleamed.
"While priests dream, we bleed!There's rebellion in the north, raiders in the south, and twisted creatures whispered about in the east. And here we are debating whether the people pray enough?Walls? As long as we hold the walls, the Empire stands!"
A rumble of voices stirred.
Then, Duke Mateonus rose calmly, stroking the ruby in his ring. His voice was silk laced with poison.
"Neither the army nor the temples can hold the people.The lower classes starve. Bread costs five dinars.Noble estates burn. Trade has ceased.We all know the truth: it is not the crown that's to blame, but the way we rule."
A heavy silence fell.
The Emperor slowly reached for his seal. With three firm strikes, he ended the debate.
"Everything that disrupts order will stand before me.The clergy shall reform. The legions shall be restructured.The aristocracy will lend their fortunes to the people.And… a new law shall be passed."
A scroll was placed upon the dais. Written in crimson ink—almost as if in blood:
"On the Nature and Punishment of Treason"
Gasps rippled across the chamber. Some senators rose in protest. Others turned away.
But none could ignore the darkness carved into the Emperor's face.
And then...
The great doors creaked open.
A charred, dust-covered envoy entered, barely standing. His armor was blackened, cloak torn to shreds, skin gray like ash.
"Your Majesty…" he whispered."The pirates... they attacked."
Ten Days Earlier – The Pirate Isles
Black sails pierced the sky. The copper light of dawn bathed the sea in shadow. On the deck of his warship, Blood-Eye stood still, watching the distant banners of the Imperial fleet.
Beside him, Joren muttered, breathing the scent of salt, blood, and gunpowder.
"Karavost's walls are strong," he warned. "And the wind's against us."
Blood-Eye didn't look away. His voice was soft.
"The wind forgets who it serves. We remind it."
He raised one hand. In perfect silence, the fleet surged forward.
Chains beneath the waves snapped. From the deep, monstrous flame-scaled croc-dragons swam toward the harbor, trained to break through naval defenses.
The first wall burned.The second collapsed.The third… fell to screams and fire.
The great bells of Karavost rang. Not in warning—in mourning.
And Blood-Eye smiled.
"They built this city from iron.I will rewrite it in blood."
By the hour's end, Karavost had fallen.
The Next Day – After the Fall
Dozens of prisoners knelt before Blood-Eye's boots.Merchants, soldiers, nobles—no one had been spared.
One prisoner, sharp-eyed and wiry, lifted his gaze. He wasn't trembling—he was watching.
Blood-Eye pointed at him.
"You. Your eyes don't look away. You see what others won't.Go. Tell your Emperor:'There is no longer a king of pirates.There is a throne.And upon it sits Blood-Eye.'"
A burning brand was pressed into the man's cheek.He screamed—but remained standing.
"Fire destroys the faithless," said Blood-Eye. "But the brave... build new faith.Now show me which one you are."
Another prisoner was dragged forward.
Joren grinned.
"Come on, friend! Cut through them all!"
Blood-Eye wiped blood from his face, crouching before the cowering man.
"Life… or death?"
The man, with golden hair soaked in rain, trembled.
"L-Life…"
Blood-Eye leaned closer.
"Do you crave your life... or mine?"
The prisoner's mouth quivered. Rain mixed with his tears.
"Whatever you desire, my king... I desire it too."
Blood-Eye stood. His crimson eyes met Joren's.
"He places my will above his own. Just like you."
Joren flinched, straightened.
"Are you thinking of recruiting him?"
Blood-Eye scanned the crowd slowly. Then answered:
"The victor always writes fate."
He seized the prisoner by the throat and hurled a sword to the ground.
Then another—to Joren.
"There is no difference between you.You both accepted my will.Now prove you deserve it—fight."
Rain poured heavier. Thunder cracked like a divine answer.
The prisoner stared at Joren, shivering.
"You... you want me to fight?"
Blood-Eye smiled, cold and cruel.
"No. I want you to kill for me.Kill him—or die by his hand.Because will… is born through choice."
The man's eyes filled with tears. Joren hesitated.
And then... Blood-Eye's voice shattered his doubt:
"Will is not born from memories.It's born from blood!"
Joren roared and lunged.
Steel sank into flesh.The prisoner gasped, fell to his knees—eyes wide not with fear, but peace.As if... he was grateful not to choose.
Blood-Eye leaned close.
"You didn't kill him.Your fear did.And fear can never rule will."
He straightened, staring at Joren.
"But you're still alive."
Joren looked down at his trembling hands.
For the first time, he truly understood what it meant to stand beside Blood-Eye.
"Next," said the pirate king.
And another prisoner was dragged forward.
✦ TO BE CONTINUED...