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The Emperor's Face

In a world where magic reigns supreme and mages are the elite of society, Marcus, a teenager from the slums, finally discovers his gift for wind manipulation. After fifteen years of struggling against adversity, a new horizon opens up to him, illuminated by the promise of power and prestige. However, fate decides otherwise. Through a twist of fate, Marcus finds himself face to face with the Emperor's chief minister, and the very heir to the imperial throne. In an instant, his plans are swept away by destiny, and he is assigned the most dangerous mission in the world: to become the Emperor's body double, the Emperor's Face.

Super_nugget · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
17 Chs

Aftermath

I... Can't... Eat... Anymore... Argh... Too hard... To... Think...

Marcus now looked like a lost soul, the complete opposite of his state at the beginning of the meal. It had just ended, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he had gotten up.

All the guests had risen after him and bowed respectfully without suspecting for a second that they were in the presence of a little Niers thief who had just arrived in the capital and had been carefully disguised.

Slowly, he left the grand hall to return to his new quarters, accompanied by a servant and the grand chamberlain.

He couldn't admire the surroundings as he felt weak. Clinging to the railing like an old man, he struggled to climb the stairs leading to the second level. The decoration was sublime yet not heavy, illuminated by natural light passing through the tall windows overlooking the grand courtyard. Outside, a bright sun illuminated the capital, whose orange roofs could be seen. Everything seemed so small from the palace, situated on a high rocky plateau forming a perfect square.

Even without knowledge of the capital, it was possible to guess that this plateau had been formed thanks to earth magic. A similar technique had been used to shape the immense stone blocks that had served to build the rampart.

Marcus ignored the view as he ignored all the palace guards, whose uniform was quite different from that worn by the Academy guards, and passed through a white and gold door similar to all those in this palace, at least from what he had seen.

The room he entered was part of the most important space in the palace, as it was the emperor's private quarters. There was an antechamber, a well-lit and orderly study, and a spacious bedroom. The furnishings in the study were lovely, and the decoration rather modest, at the request of its illustrious occupant. Although it was regularly cleaned and aired, there was a scent of old books in the air.

Marcus found the emperor sitting peacefully at his desk, reading a thick book with a brown and gold leather cover. He had already eaten, as evidenced by a small plate left empty nearby.

As soon as Marcus and the grand chamberlain entered, the young man raised his head and pushed aside a long lock of brown hair from his eyes.

"Ah, you're finally here," he declared as if Marcus had intentionally taken his time to return to his master. "I finished eating an eternity ago. I had time to read half of the memoirs of Hannibal Barka the Great. Well, reread. It's a classic. You should read it too, Marcus. His reflections on military strategy, religion, and politics are very enlightening.

"I-I'll see about that later. If you'll allow me, I'll lie down."

"..."

Marcus went straight to the emperor's chamber, located in the adjoining room, and as he headed towards the imperial bed, he was quickly stopped by the grand chamberlain, who pulled him by the ear to a green bench in a corner of the room. It was where he had slept the previous night as well as the night before.

"Where do you think you're going, lad?!"

Ignoring the old man with the darkened face, he lay down on his back and stopped moving completely. His hands were placed on his swollen belly, and Marcus closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing and the mechanical sound of a small clock.

The bench was firm and narrow, far from ideal for sleeping, but it was better than sleeping on the floor. After a few seconds, a small snoring could be heard in the room and even in the neighboring room.

The grand chamberlain smiled slightly and left the room to return to the emperor.

"So? How did it go?" inquired the young emperor, closing his book marked by the years.

"Well, I would say. In any case, he didn't make any major mistakes. The nobles who were present didn't seem to understand, I think."

Emperor Maxime nodded and looked in the direction of his chamber.

"Excellent. That's very encouraging. But he doesn't seem to be well. Was he poisoned?"

"I don't think so, Your Majesty," replied the old minister, running a hand through his thick, trimmed beard. "He simply ate too much. He completely emptied his first two plates."

"Really?" asked the emperor, incredulous. His lips trembled and his eyes curved as if he were holding back laughter. "Ahem! I see, he couldn't have known it was just the appetizer. We were negligent, weren't we? He wasn't ready. It's impressive that he managed to hold on until the end.

"Indeed, Your Majesty. I suppose that was his only mistake during this meal. But I don't think he'll repeat it anytime soon. If you decide to keep him in your service, of course."

The emperor Maxime stood up and positioned himself in front of a window from which he could admire his gardens, meticulously maintained by an army of gardeners every day of the year.

"Hmm, I'll keep him, yes. At least for now. It was just the first test. He survived a meal, nothing more. We'll have to train him better, which will take time.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Oh, by the way, ambassador Caius Verrus de Loyola sent a letter from Tunis.

"Oh? Let's see that."

The grand chamberlain handed the emperor a thick scroll containing several sheets. Its seal was intact, indicating that its contents had not been read by a third party during the journey.

It was an aging empire ruled by Berbers, who centuries ago had managed to defeat the mighty Carthage and replace it in northern Ifrikya. Unfortunately for them, they now suffered from the same woes as their former enemy: laziness, corruption, economic and religious instability, not to mention the mediocre morals of the inhabitants of this state. It was only a matter of time before they would one day be devoured by their neighbors, notably Morocco and Mali, who for centuries had sought access to the Inland Sea.

Emperor Maxime read the contents of the message in silence before revealing its contents to his chief minister, who was like an uncle to him.

"The emperor's son has awakened, it seems.

"Oh.

"It says here that his primary element is water.

"Water? A noble, abundant element capable of many things. The same as his father and many of his predecessors. We should send a message and a gift to His Highness.

"Indeed. His Majesty must be reassured.

"Your Majesty..."

The emperor's face suddenly became dark, and the old minister could not ignore the reason. He had been by his side for years, to the point of being able to guess his thoughts. The emperor raised his head and returned a radiant smile.

"Don't worry, Rodrigue. It'll be alright. Just because I haven't awakened yet doesn't mean there's no hope.

"Y-yes, Your Majesty. I'm sure one day, during your weekly test, the orb will start to shine!

"You are a faithful friend, Rodrigue. And it's my greatest honor.

"Your Majesty...

"And besides, it's already happened that someone awakened at seventeen, hasn't it?"

The emperor smiled, but his eyes seemed sad. They both knew that hopes were slim. But the emperor wasn't lying. On very rare occasions, young boys and girls awakened late. But their powers were usually weak. They were then called late magi or lazy magi. The current emperor of Mali was one such person. Endowed with very weak magical power, he nevertheless had a remarkable mind to the point that it far outweighed his weak power. He was an excellent alchemist recognized worldwide and had written an impressive book on combining runes to create new ones. He revolutionized the world of alchemy and attracted to his court the best alchemists from the Western world.

Behind the office door, in the emperor's bedroom, Marcus listened intently and didn't miss a word of the conversation.

While he understood some very interesting things, he was truly tired. So he turned over on his little green bench embroidered with plant motifs.

But it wasn't five minutes before he was awakened by a nearby noise. Someone had knocked on a door. It wasn't his door that had been knocked on, but that of the antechamber, the small room preceding the workspace where His Majesty spent a lot of time.

"Your Majesty, are we going hunting this afternoon?" came a masculine voice from the hallway with a very dignified tone.

"Yes," replied the emperor. "Have a suit and Pietas prepared for me. It's been a while since I've ridden her. She needs exercise."

The door closed, and Marcus stood at the door of the chamber.

"You're going hunting?" asked Marcus, once again forgetting basic etiquette.

"Indeed. You'll stay here, and you won't leave under any pretext," replied the emperor as if this mistake were of no importance to him.

"What?! But that's not fair!"

"Think about it. What would happen if someone saw you wandering the corridors or gardens when I'm supposed to be hunting. Here, take this and educate yourself."

The emperor handed him the war memoirs of the great general Hannibal Barka, in which he recounted how he had brought down the Reman Republic.

"Your Majesty, I can't read.

"Ah, that's right. I forgot about that. We'll have to address that issue anyway. Rodrigue?

"Your Majesty?

"Find someone trustworthy to teach young Marcus reading and writing as well as everything that's taught to first-year students."

"It will be done according to your pleasure, Your Majesty."