The triumphant procession of the Skyblade Knights moved through the city, the cheers of the crowd a deafening roar.
General Alaric, now Prince Alaric, rode at the head with his knights following behind.
The weight of his new title felt heavier than any armor.
As they approached the gates of the Imperial Palace, the rest of the Skyblade Knights halted.
Only Gideon, Carlden and Marcus, his most trusted men, continued with him.
Reaching the ornate doors the throne room, Gideon, Carlden and Marcus bowed deeply to their general, taking their places at the entrance.
"The General, Prince Alaric!" Gideon announced in a booming voice that resonated through the hall.
The massive doors swung open, revealing the grand throne room. The air was thick with power and anticipation.
On either side of the long red carpet were the court ministers.
They all bowed in respect for the man who had just won a war for their Empire.
Alaric strode forward, his pace measured and his gaze fixed on the Emperor who sat on the golden throne at the far end of the room.
He did not bow. He never did.
A statement that he feared no one, not even the man who ruled the empire.
It was also a private sign of their shared history, a habit born in childhood.
A relic of their days as study mates who would sneak out of the palace library to explore the gardens.
The Emperor, a man known for his cunning mind and ruthless political acumen, regarded Alaric with warmth concealed for the sake of the court.
To them, Alaric was a weapon too powerful to control. To the Emperor, he was a friend, a brother in all but blood.
"Prince Alaric," the Emperor's voice boomed. "You have returned to us a hero. The Empire is in your debt."
"For your valor and service, the Skyblade Knights will be rewarded. I hereby decree that each knight's salary will be doubled for the next six months."
A murmur of approval rippled through the ministers, but it was the Emperor's next words that truly captured their attention.
"Furthermore, a generous land extension will be granted for your base and practice field, a testament to the strength and might you have brought to this kingdom."
Alaric remained impassive, his expression giving nothing away. He had come to expect such generous, public displays from the Emperor.
They were a carefully choreographed performance for the court and the Empire, showcasing the Emperor's generosity and his reliance on his most powerful general.
Then, the Emperor's gaze settled on Alaric, "And for you, Prince Alaric, the hero of Eldoria, your reward must be befitting of a man who has saved our Empire from ruin."
He gestured to a large, ornate chest that two guards struggled to carry into the room.
With a heavy thud, they set it down on the red carpet.
"I grant you a sum of 50 chests of gold," the Emperor announced.
A collective gasp went up from the ministers.
It was an unbelievable sum, a fortune so vast it could fund an entire war or build a new city.
Even the most jaded ministers looked stunned. It was a gesture that spoke not only of the Emperor's wealth but of his absolute trust and reliance on Alaric.
Alaric gave a slight nod. He knew the Emperor wasn't just giving him money; he was giving him power and the freedom to pursue his own interests without question.
"I accept your generosity, my friend" Alaric replied, the casual, familiar use of 'my friend' going completely unnoticed by the court, who were too busy calculating the immense value of the gold.
The Emperor then clapped his hands once, the sharp sound cutting through the stunned silence. "The victory ball will be held in four days, allowing the knights to rest and prepare. It will be a celebration worthy of our brave heroes."
The ministers bowed as the meeting was concluded.
As Alaric turned to leave, the Emperor's voice, now a low whisper meant only for him, followed him. "We have much to discuss, old friend. Meet me tomorrow evening."
"As you wish," Alaric replied.
....
That evening, in the Imperial Palace's private study, the air was still and heavy with the scent of old books and dried ink.
The Emperor sat behind his grand mahogany desk, his expression unreadable as he addressed his head eunuch.
"Summon the Empress," he commanded.
Within moments, the Empress entered, her elaborate gown rustling softly on the floor.
She was a woman of immense power in her own right, her political ambitions and vast influence a counterpoint to the Emperor's rule.
"Your Majesty summoned me?" she asked, in a perfectly practiced formality that was a far cry from any sense of intimacy.
"I did," the Emperor replied, watching her carefully.
"The victory ball to celebrate Prince Alaric's return will be held in four days. I want you to oversee its organization."
At the mention of Alaric's name, undisguised hatred flashed in her eyes.
It was a brief, almost imperceptible shift, but the Emperor, who knew her better than anyone, saw it.
Their relationship was a tenuous balance of power, and her hatred for Alaric was a well-known secret in the palace's inner circles.
She loathed the Prince's power, his popularity with the people, and the complete trust the Emperor placed in him.
To her, Alaric was a constant threat to her influence, her son, the prince, and a living testament to a power she could never truly control.
The Empress forced a serene smile. "Prince Alaric is deserving of the highest honors, Your Majesty. I will ensure the ball is a spectacular event."
"It must be," the Emperor stated, his voice now firm. "It must be befitting of his title. This is to honor a Prince who has saved our Empire, not just a General. Every detail must be perfect, reflecting the respect and gratitude of the entire court."
The Empress's smile tightened, her fingers clenching into a fist in the folds of her gown. "It will be a night for the history books," she replied, her words laced with a subtle venom that the Emperor chose to ignore.
"See that it is," the Emperor said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
He watched her leave. He was well aware of her animosity towards Alaric.
By giving her control of the ball, he was both challenging her and giving her a very public duty she could not refuse.
He trusted Alaric to see through her veiled hostilities, just as he trusted his own judgment in keeping his two most powerful allies, and rivals, in a delicate balance.