LOGINToday was going to be different; any other day nothing would have made no difference, but today definitely was.Ever since Ragaleon had made her a member of the council, it had been the same pattern.Going to the council meeting, fighting the will not to feel inferior among a bunch of men who carried themselves like some kind of demigod.But she had other things planned for today.When her handmaid, Rosa, had come to summon her, Racheal was already dressed and ready to attend the council meeting.Although she was not herself. She was like a hollow vessel emptied by grief and loss, constantly reminded of the sacrifices she had made just to feel a fleeting sense of safety.And now, as she walked toward the courtroom with the unwavering resolve of a hardened warrior, she didn't care any less about what those men had installed for her today.She moved like the princesses of Samaria, like the queen of Decreash, like the ruler she truly was, born to command, to endure, and to face whatever
Hamstung Imperial Palace.Blood streaked the floor and smeared across the walls; it was like an abattoir, only that it was humans that were slaughtered.Painfully among those humans laid Friya's husband, King Orain of Hamstung.Every instinct screamed to flee, but Friya's feet would not obey. All she could do was stand there, swallowed by the weight of what she had seen, the horror settling deep into her bones.Friya froze at the threshold. Her stomach churned, her hands trembled, and the cold numbness that crept through her limbs made it feel as if the world had stopped moving. This was his chamber, a place that had once promised safety—and now it was unrecognizable, a tomb of terror.Her heart constricted, her hand clenching her chest as her eyes opened wide.Her lips quaked , failing to produce a word….she had lost her voice."No…"Tears formed in her eyes, her shaky hands looking for a place to hold on so that she might still remain on her feet."Nooooh!She fell to her knees, te
Hamstung Imperial Palace.The steam coiled off the surface of the imperial bath like morning mist, veiling the vaulted ceiling in shifting veils of vapor. The bathing arena, a vast marble chamber sunk into the earth, glowed with the amber flicker of oil lamps, their gold light dancing upon columns carved with intertwining vines.A pool larger than a garden pond stretched ahead, fed by slender aqueducts that hissed gently as warm water flowed down stone carvings shaped like seashells. Four young maids, bare-shouldered, stood ready on terraced steps, jugs of perfumed oil balanced between delicate hands.In this sanctuary the king of Hamstung, Orain, a tall chubby man in his late sixties, stepped in.His dark hair curled wet at the nape of his neck as he stepped into the pool of water in the bathing arena.Water lapped around his thighs, glimmering over the firm muscle his age had not yet diminished. He made his way towards the corner of the pool of water and reclined his spine on the
The dawn of day was like a nightmare for the grandmaester; every single day was like a battle he fought to make sure his sanity remained intact while he tried to get Ragaleon back on his feet.It was a small price he had to pay in return for the respect and position he held in the castle.It has not gone unnoticed by the household of the castle of Decreash that the queen dowager, Selena, seemed to have a lot of respect for the old man, the grandmaester.Why so, however, has never been found out. It is as such that the same respect she accords him, everyone else does.With that in mind, the grandmaester was doing everything with his resources to see to it that the king continues to live to see another day.He worked tirelessly in his small fume chamber, where he gathered all his herbal medicine, mixing, boiling, and combining cogent and effective herbs that he was sure would work.But day after day, his hope seems to wither.The king would not respond to treatment; it was as though he
William has always liked the cool breeze that came with each nightfall. He would let his eyes trace the dark sky while seated at his terrace, a cup of wine mounted in his right hand. If that wasn't an option, he would send his men on an errand and have two concubines that would pleasure him for the night summoned, and he would bang them mercilessly till the break of dawn until they could no longer feel their legs.Those were the days ... and still those days are yet to come, when he fully recovers from the wound he sustained at the battlefield.Right now he was on his bed, legs stretched out, facing the ceiling. He has not seen any soul outside the walls of his chamber, and soon he thought he might run mad.Every day, all day, it was one pretty maid or the other coming to clean him up and put his chamber in order before returning back to their duties.This wasn't the man he used to be; he felt helpless. The war ended with his side taking the victory, but the cost for it in return was
Decreash Imperial Palace The evening sun grazed the high pillars of the castle, casting a golden hue on the terrace.Birds tweeted and flapped their wings above in the sky as they retired to their nests, and the branches of the tree swayed, dry leaves falling to the ground.A figure brushed past the enchanting garden, gliding through the endless flowers towards the direction where herbs were planted.Her black wavy hair glistened under the ray of the sun, and her hazel brown eyes shimmered. Her steps were casual; as she moved from one herb plant to another, her lean fingers reached out to pluck the selected herbs.In her left hand was a basket made out of straws."Ouch!Micah hissed when a spiky herb punctured through her fair thumb, causing blood to ooze out.She watched the blood gush out slowly, streaking along her finger, until it dropped on the ground. She sighs and then takes one of the herbal leaves from the basket. She squeezed the leaf against the wounded part to make the b







