3 Mien: epikhairekakía

Atharia, the capital city of Seraphiel, was the place that every citizen in the Empire sought to visit even once in their lifetime.

It was a city that was brimming with lights, serving to bedazzle the land as if they were the stars that descended from the Nasha sky. Concessionaries and boutiques, pubs and restaurants, bookstores and theatres, the streets of Atharia were lined up with an ensemble of establishments that catered to the needs of the citizens -- Lower class and aristocrats alike.

The traffic of the crowd was as peaceful as it could be, from those searching for the new trends in the high society's fashion to those hoping to spend their time drinking their woes away in a run-down tavern.

Arguably the most prominent site in the city was the plaza neighbouring the infamous Seraphiel Castle. At the peak of the dier, the open space, dubbed as 'the place where romance blooms, more often than the blossoms in spring', were filled with families and the social circles of the commoners seeking to find a break in their daily routines. When the Nasha arrives, it becomes an enchanting destination for those who covet to relax under the luminescence of the nine Orcuns, along with the kaleidoscopic lanterns that are shimmering enough to please the eyes.

With its beauty manifesting even in mere rumours, Atharia was a picture-perfect city where citizens of all walks of life were given the freedom to mingle with each other. Having the image of warmth and peace was how exactly the capital was painted.

But then again, the same words were hardly appropriate to describe the atmosphere inside the Emperor's audience room, located at the facade of the rightmost building of the imperial palace.

The room, amply large to host a crowd of a thousand, rarely allowed the presence of more than a hundred within its vicinity.

It contained no furniture other than the Emperor's throne, which sat atop a five-stepped dais with two maroon flags hanging on the proscenium arch, each bearing the emblem of the Emperor and the Empire. The throne itself was the masterpiece of a renowned craftsman, who made use of a naturally occurring variant of gold with a black hue. Perhaps the only intricate design on the royal seat was the interweaving vines, decorated with leaves and flowers, by the armrests. The backrest and the seat cushion were dyed with the shade of red, resembling a glass of wine that was fermented from the highest quality of blackcurrants and plums.

The carpet in royal red, with the breadth of two average men, running along from the door right up the wall behind the royal seat, was the finishing touch to the pearl white marbled floor. On both flanks of the room, there were two floor-to-roof glass windows, that were concealed by black-velvet heavy curtains embellished with white gold tussles.

The modesty of the room's grandeur was complemented by a spherical magical device, hovering dead-set at the middle of the ceiling, that irradiated with a soft glow that reached the four corners.

In contrast with the minimalist design of the room, the Emperor's Knights of the Round Table had neatly lined themselves up near the throne in a grand and imposing manner. There was also the royally dressed Prime Minister, standing approximately three steps below the throne, wearing an expression that conveyed his unwillingness to compromise to whatever would be brought up to his attention.

Lastly, the most extravagant ornament in sight was the Emperor with his infamous countenance devoid of emotions. The individuals occupying the pinnacle echelon of the regime did not unveil an inch of modesty in their appearance.

As it happens, this was the least of intimidation that one should be prepared to confront if they felt disposed to have an audience with the Emperor.

At present, Baron Merlon Istani was continuing his display of indecorous behaviour, showering the carpet with his bodily fluids.

'What a mess you are. You shouldn't have met the Emperor's gaze when no permission was given.' Duke Sarakiel Helian sighed, albeit discretely, while he watched the pitiful man cough his lungs out afore the Emperor.

The Duke, sporting an undercut with his blonde hair that appeared like strands of honey, held the sixth seat in the Rounds. He was also one of the youngest, joining the knight order at the age of 18.

'I did not expect that I will be using my abilities here, of all places.' Even though Duke Helian was complaining in his mind alone, with a single wave of his hand, the Baron's struggle ceased in an instant.

His action was left uncriticized despite its nonnecessity. From the beginning, the knights were told to judge the situation and conduct as they saw fit.

'Well, wasting our time is not the only fault that he should be begging forgiveness for.'

Unbeknownst to the majority of aristocrats, the Emperor valued the prosperity of the citizens more than the recognition of the self-absorbed nobles. What made the nobles think otherwise was because the Emperor usually did not take any direct actions in protecting the people, always making the problem-tackling look as if it was a lot of trouble.

Consequent to Duke Helian's feat of restoring the Baron's senses, Merlon Istani slowly caught up with the incident that he had caused. As he tasted the salt of his sweat and mucus that glided down his face, creating an illusion that it was not freezing with the walls of the audience room, the Baron's eyes widened in horror knowing that he showed such disgraceful behaviour in front of several esteemed individuals.

The Baron scampered to bring out the handkerchief that was in his breast pocket, wiping his wet face as quickly as he could. At that moment, all the while terror enveloped his being, he desired nothing else than to rush back to his fief and simply do his best until death visits his doorstep.

"Baron Merlon Istani"

Startled of the Prime Minister blurting out his name in full, the Baron was delayed in uttering his response, "Yes? Yes, My Lord!". He kept his head down, afraid that he might make a hash another time.

"This might be a piece of remarkable information for the likes of you. The Barbarians were not randomly attacking and retreating, but they were effectively reducing the attack force of the troops that you have dispatched while making them advance out of Istani fief's territory. To this day, it still astonishes me that you had the knack to send back the troops that we provided." Duke Zelel Helian, the Prime Minister of the Seraphiel Empire, elucidated on the matter with a lack of distress in his tone.

From the depths of his meagre knowledge, the Baron gave the Prime Minister that exhibited how short-minded he was.

"I know of that information, My Lord. Withal, I believe that my army consisting of four brigades will be able to fend off the Southern Barbarians who have a population barely reaching 20,000, seeing that my soldiers are well equipped and had ample training in their repertoire. But I was not expecting that they are also-"

"They were in possession of weapons and armours rivalling your best? In addition to that, they also attacked en masse, using your people as hostages along the way, isn't that correct?" The minister interposed in the lowly noble's speech, rendering the latter speechless.

Baron Istani could only nod his head, out of things to retort. Meanwhile, Duke Claudas took a glance at the Emperor, who did not convey even a thread of concern on his perpetually impassive countenance.

'This won't end on a good note if the Baron doesn't excuse himself soon.' Duke Claudas exasperatingly debated the consequences of having a noble who prioritized greed over benevolence within their midst, considering that the monarch loathed this humanistic propensity of the aristocrats.

Heaving a sigh of frustration, the Prime Minister decided to address the Baron's problem by himself since the Emperor kept his reticence.

"Normally, the Barbarians cannot pass the towering walls erected along the empire's borders, yet they were able to use explosives to bust the section of the wall nearest to the Istani Fief's granary. It's astonishing that they were able to execute such a plan." Duke Claudas talked as he descended the stairs, stopping at an arm's distance away from the Baron.

Sensing the Prime Minister's Presence, the Baron lifted his head. Dread immediately replaced all of the emotions in the Baron's consciousness as he met the Duke Claudas' eyes, mirroring abysmal sombre voids that immersed Istani in a forceful submission.

Once he gathered the focus of the Baron, Duke Claudas went on with his explanation, "If you take into rumination their cannibalistic nature, your land's animal farm should have been their primary target if they wanted to procure food. The farm was an easier place to prey on, and grains were rarely a part of their diet. What urged those rogues to attack the granary?"