The grand audience hall of the Imperial Palace stood in absolute silence.
Rows of nobles, ministers, generals, and foreign envoys knelt with their heads lowered, afraid to meet the gaze of the man seated upon the black imperial throne.
Emperor **Owen Izekov Frenchburg** rested one arm against the carved armrest, his crimson cloak flowing over the marble steps like spilled blood. The golden crown upon his head reflected the morning sunlight pouring through the towering stained-glass windows.
His expression revealed nothing.
Cold.
Unreadable.
Absolute.
No one dared speak unless spoken to.
Before the throne, a bound noble struggled against iron chains.
"Your Majesty!" the noble cried, his voice shaking. "I have served the empire faithfully for twenty years! The accusations are false!"
A minister stepped forward and bowed.
"Your Majesty, the investigation has concluded. Lord Harrington secretly sold military routes to the Western Alliance in exchange for gold."
The noble's face turned pale.
"I—I was framed! Please believe me!"
The emperor remained silent.
The silence was far more terrifying than shouting.
Moments stretched endlessly until Owen finally spoke.
"Evidence."
A captain of the Imperial Guard approached, carrying a wooden chest. Inside were coded letters, royal seals, ledgers, and a pouch filled with foreign gold coins.
Every piece pointed toward treason.
The noble's desperate expression crumbled.
"...Mercy," he whispered.
Owen descended the steps of the throne one measured step at a time.
His polished boots echoed across the marble floor.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Every sound made the nobles hold their breath.
He stopped directly before the traitor.
"You accepted payment from those who wish to invade my people."
The emperor's voice was calm, almost gentle.
"You sold the lives of my soldiers."
Lord Harrington collapsed to his knees.
"I was desperate! My debts—"
"Did my soldiers choose your debts?"
"No..."
"Did the widows of the men who would have died choose them?"
"...No."
Owen looked toward the commander of the Imperial Guard.
"What is the punishment for treason?"
"Death, Your Majesty."
The emperor nodded once.
"Carry it out."
"No!" Harrington screamed. "Please! I have children!"
Without hesitation, the guards dragged the man toward the center of the hall.
Some of the foreign envoys turned away.
Others watched in stunned silence.
The execution was swift.
When it was over, servants quietly cleaned the marble floor while the imperial court remained frozen in place.
No one questioned the judgment.
No one protested.
They had witnessed scenes like this before.
That was why the continent called Owen Izekov Frenchburg the Blood Emperor.
Not because he enjoyed killing.
But because once he passed judgment, it was never reversed.
The emperor returned to his throne as though nothing unusual had happened.
"Next report."
A general stepped forward immediately.
"The Northern Frontier has reported increased monster activity, Your Majesty. Three villages were attacked within the week."
"Casualties?"
"Forty-two civilians. Twelve knights."
Owen's gaze sharpened.
"Deploy the Third and Seventh Monster Subjugation Armies. Reinforce the frontier before sunset."
"At once, Your Majesty."
Another minister approached.
"The Eastern Empire has sent another diplomatic letter."
"Read it."
The minister unfolded the scroll.
"'The Eastern Empire requests that Frenchburg surrender the disputed border territory in the interest of lasting peace.'"
A faint scoff escaped one of the generals.
The court remained silent.
Owen's answer came without hesitation.
"Declined."
The minister blinked.
"That is all, Your Majesty?"
"Yes."
"They may consider it an insult."
"They declared war the moment they made the request."
No one argued.
His reasoning was painfully straightforward.
Weakness invited invasion.
Strength preserved peace.
That belief had built the largest empire on the continent.
Yet even with unmatched military might, Owen's schedule was relentless. Reports from every province filled his desk. Noble disputes, monster sightings, trade negotiations, and border defenses demanded constant attention.
He handled each matter with the same calm efficiency that had made him both respected and feared.
When the final report concluded, the Lord Chancellor bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty, there is one final matter."
Owen raised an eyebrow.
"The Duchess of House Wensleydale has arrived at the capital."
For the first time that morning, the emperor's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But every person in the hall noticed.
The icy distance in his eyes softened.
A nearly imperceptible smile touched the corner of his lips.
The generals exchanged confused glances.
The ministers looked at one another in disbelief.
The Blood Emperor...
Had smiled.
"Prepare the western courtyard," Owen said, rising from his throne. "I will greet her personally."
The emperor strode from the audience hall without another word, leaving behind an entire court wondering how the most feared man on the continent could look forward to meeting a single woman. None of them realized that Lady **Nitti Skye Wensleydale** was the only person in the world who had never looked at Owen with fear.
The imperial palace buzzed with activity.
Servants hurried through polished corridors, knights stood at attention, and maids carefully arranged fresh flowers along the western courtyard. Word had spread astonishingly fast.
The emperor himself was going to welcome a guest.
Such a thing had never happened before.
"Is the rumor true?" a young maid whispered.
"The Emperor is personally receiving the Duchess of Wensleydale?"
An older maid nodded nervously.
"I've served in this palace for twelve years. I've never seen His Majesty leave the throne room to greet anyone."
"Not even foreign royalty?"
"No."
The younger maid's eyes widened.
"Then... who exactly is she?"
Before anyone could answer, the deep sound of a ceremonial horn echoed through the palace grounds.
The gates slowly opened.
A magnificent carriage bearing the silver wolf crest of House Wensleydale rolled into the courtyard, escorted by dozens of mounted knights clad in polished steel armor.
Behind them rode elite warriors carrying banners embroidered with crossed swords—the symbol of the Wensleydale family, whose battlefield achievements had become legend throughout the continent.
The carriage came to a graceful stop.
One of the attendants opened the door.
A polished leather boot touched the ground first.
Then another.
A young woman stepped out, dressed not in extravagant gowns but in an elegant navy-blue traveling outfit beneath a white cloak trimmed with silver fur. A sword rested naturally at her waist, its worn hilt showing it was meant for battle rather than decoration.
Long raven-black hair cascaded down her back, gently stirred by the afternoon breeze. Her bright blue eyes surveyed the palace with quiet curiosity rather than awe.
This was **Nitti Skye Wensleydale**.
Daughter of Duke Cedric Wensleydale.
Daughter of Princess Elena.
The Empire's youngest female knight commander.
She smiled warmly at the servants waiting nearby.
"Thank you for preparing such a wonderful welcome."
Several servants nearly forgot to breathe.
She...
She thanked them?
Most nobles barely acknowledged the palace staff.
Nitti inclined her head politely before turning toward the palace entrance.
Standing there, surrounded by rows of Imperial Guards, was the man everyone feared.
Emperor Owen Izekov Frenchburg.
The guards immediately knelt.
"So did the palace servants.
"So did the accompanying Wensleydale knights.
Every head lowered.
Except one.
Nitti simply smiled.
"There you are."
Her cheerful voice broke the suffocating silence.
Owen's cold expression melted almost instantly.
His sharp crimson eyes softened, and a genuine smile appeared on his face.
"You've arrived safely."
"I told you I would."
"I know."
For a brief moment, neither spoke.
Then Owen stepped forward.
The Imperial Guards instinctively tensed, expecting some formal imperial greeting.
Instead, the emperor gently took Nitti's gloved hands into his own.
"I missed you."
The courtyard froze.
The captain of the guards nearly dropped his spear.
A maid quietly covered her mouth to stop herself from gasping.
Was this...
Really their emperor?
Nitti laughed softly.
"I was only gone for three weeks."
"Twenty-three days."
She blinked.
"You counted?"
"I counted every day."
Several guards looked as though their understanding of reality had shattered.
The Blood Emperor...
Counted the days until his wife's return?
Nitti squeezed his hands gently.
"I'm home now."
A small smile spread across Owen's face.
"Welcome home."
"Yes, Captain."
Although they obeyed, the image of their emperor smiling lingered in their minds.
---
Meanwhile, inside the palace gardens, the atmosphere could not have been more different.
Warm sunlight filtered through rows of flowering trees, casting dancing shadows across stone pathways lined with blooming roses.
Nitti walked beside Owen, her hands clasped behind her back as she admired the scenery.
"It's even prettier than the sketches you sent."
"I had the gardeners expand it."
"For me?"
He nodded.
"You said you wanted a place where butterflies would gather."
She smiled brightly.
"You remembered."
"I remember everything you tell me."
Nitti laughed softly.
"You always say things that make me happy."
Owen looked away for a brief second, almost embarrassed.
"I'm only telling the truth."
If the imperial court had witnessed this exchange, they would have believed they were looking at an entirely different man.
---
Far behind them, Lord Chancellor Aldric walked with General Marcus.
Both men remained silent until they were certain the emperor was out of earshot.
Marcus finally spoke.
"Has His Majesty always been like this?"
Aldric sighed.
"You've been stationed on the northern frontier for three years."
"I have."
"Then you've missed... quite a few surprises."
The general rubbed his forehead.
"I watched His Majesty execute a traitor this morning without changing his expression."
"I know."
"And now he follows Her Majesty around like..."
He searched for the right words.
"...like a devoted husband."
Aldric chuckled quietly.
"That is exactly what he is."
Marcus stared.
"I don't understand."
"You don't have to."
---
As they continued walking, Nitti suddenly stopped in front of a marble fountain.
"Oh!"
She knelt beside the water.
Tiny white ducklings paddled happily after their mother.
"They're adorable!"
Owen watched her with a gentle smile.
"You like them?"
"I love them."
She looked back at him with sparkling eyes.
"Can we come here again tomorrow?"
"Of course."
"And the day after?"
"Whenever you wish."
"What if you're busy?"
"I'll make time."
She giggled.
"You spoil me too much."
"I don't think I spoil you enough."
Nitti shook her head playfully.
"You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
She reached over and lightly tapped his forehead with one finger.
"You've been working too hard."
"I'm fine."
"You skipped lunch."
"..."
"You did, didn't you?"
Owen remained silent.
Nitti crossed her arms.
"Owen."
"...Yes."
She sighed dramatically.
"I knew it."
"I forgot."
"You always forget."
"I'll eat."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
She smiled, satisfied.
"Good."
Hidden behind nearby hedges, several palace maids who had been tending flowers exchanged astonished looks.
"The Emperor..."
"He admitted he forgot to eat."
"And he apologized."
"To Her Majesty."
One maid covered her face.
"If I reminded His Majesty to eat, I'd probably faint before finishing the sentence."
The older maid whispered back,
"Her Majesty doesn't seem afraid of him at all."
---
Nitti stood and brushed a few flower petals from her skirt.
"I've missed this place."
"We've all missed you."
She tilted her head.
"'We?'"
"The palace."
"The staff?"
"The knights."
She smiled warmly.
"That's kind of them."
Owen looked at her quietly.
"And me."
She laughed.
"I know."
He didn't deny it.
There was no reason to.
Every day she had been away visiting her parents at House Wensleydale had felt unusually long.
The palace had seemed quieter.
Meals had tasted dull.
Even the endless reports from ministers had become more exhausting than usual.
Now, simply hearing her laugh made the burdens of ruling an empire seem lighter.
Nitti looked toward the towering palace.
"It must have been difficult handling everything alone."
"It was manageable."
"You worked every day, didn't you?"
"...Yes."
She gave him a knowing look.
"And slept very little."
"...Perhaps."
"Owen."
"I know."
She couldn't help smiling.
"You really are hopeless."
"If you say so."
Without warning, she reached out and intertwined her fingers with his.
"Then I'll just have to keep reminding you."
Owen looked down at their joined hands.
A warmth spread through his chest that no victory on the battlefield had ever given him.
He gently squeezed her hand.
"I'd like that."
Neither of them noticed a hooded figure standing atop one of the distant palace towers.
Watching.
Silent.
Hidden.
The stranger's cold eyes remained fixed on the imperial couple before disappearing into the shadows.
Far beyond the palace walls, the enemies of the Frenchburg Empire were already setting plans into motion.
The peace that Owen and Nitti cherished would not last forever.