Alaric paced his chambers like a caged beast.
He had been waiting for the report, his mind was now producing dark imaginings.
The Empress's invitation had felt like a trap, and his instincts, honed over years of battlefield cunning, screamed that something was wrong.
When a knock sounded at his door, he didn't wait for a reply. "Enter!"
His most trusted shadow knight, the one he had charged with Daphne's protection, knelt before him, his head bowed. "General, the Lady Daphne... she is unharmed."
A wave of deep relief washed over Alaric, so powerful it nearly brought him to his knees.
"Tell me everything. Do not leave out a single detail."
"As you commanded, General, we were her shadows," the knight began. "We followed her carriage, hidden from view. As she entered a secluded lane near the palace, we sensed the danger. The street was empty."
Alaric's jaw tightened. "Continue."
"Men in the livery of House of Rexton appeared. Fifteen of them. They moved with the precision of trained killers. They ambushed her carriage, and her guards, fought bravely, but they were outnumbered."
The knight paused, and Alaric's knuckles turned white. "And then?" he demanded.
"The Lady Daphne," the knight said, a note of awe in his voice, "she stepped out of the carriage. She faced them without a shred of fear."
The knight then proceeded to describe the battle.
He described how his men, Alaric's shadow knights, had emerged from the shadows to protect her. "We fought with a singular purpose, Genral. To protect her life. The men of House of Rexton were no match for us."
Alaric knew House Rexton was a minor house, but a loyal one to the Empress.
The attack was not just a threat; it was a blatant declaration of war. A silent, unwritten threat to Daphne's life. A war the Empress had just lost.
"And she... did she see you?" Alaric asked.
"She saw us, Your Highness," the knight replied, his head still bowed.
"She knew we were not her father's guards. She simply asked Kael who we were. She seemed... to understand."
Alaric's heart, which had been a drum of fury, now softened with a new, quiet pride.
She had not been frightened. She had not run. She had walked into a fire and emerged a warrior.
He had chosen the right woman.
"She had a minor cut, General," the knight continued.
"On her side. But she ignored it. When her guard advised they return to the manor, she refused. She said it would be foolish to show the Empress she was afraid. She proceeded to the palace as planned."
Alaric closed his eyes.
The Empress had just sent an army to kill his woman, and Daphne had walked out of the ambush with her head held high, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
She was not a prize to be won. She was a weapon, a force of nature.
He had just seen the true meaning of his mission: to not only protect her, but to ensure her victory was a triumph so great that no one would dare challenge her again.
He had an Emperor to deal with, but first, he had to deal with the Empress.
An Empress who had just made a very powerful enemy.
He opened his eyes, a cold, ruthless resolve hardening his features. He turned to his aide, Marcus. "Gather a team," he commanded.
"Tonight, House of Rexton burns. Every building, every warehouse, every single thing they own. Leave the people alive to watch. Let them stand in the ruins of their lives and know that this is what happens when you raise a hand against my woman. The Empress will get the message. I will not have her or anyone else threaten her again."
Immediately after barking orders, he turned to see the Emperor.
Getting there, Alaric didn't bother with the usual courtesies.
He burst through the doors of the Emperor's private study, the loud thud echoing in the vast, silent room.
The Emperor looked up from his scrolls, a flicker of irritation on his face that quickly turned to shock at the sight of Alaric's raw fury.
"She tried to kill her," Alaric growled.
He didn't need to say her name.
"Your Empress sent fifteen men from the House of Rexton to ambush Daphne's carriage."
The Emperor's face paled. He stood, his regal composure wavering. "That is a serious accusation, Ric. Do you have proof?"
"Fifteen dead men in the livery of a House loyal to her," Alaric said, his hands clenching into fists.
"She didn't want to leave it to chance. She wanted to terrify her, to show her what happens when she dares to enter this competition."
The Emperor's face hardened. He walked to the window, his back to Alaric.
"I cannot punish her without proof. The court would see it as a political move, a sign of weakness."
"Weakness?" Alaric snarled, taking a step forward. "She tried to kill a contestant! A woman you publicly named in a decree! Do you not see what this means? She is not just a rival to Daphne; she is a threat to the stability of the entire empire. She made a mockery of your word."
The Emperor was silent for a long moment, the conflict warring on his face.
He knew Alaric was right. His wife's rash actions had endangered his entire plan. The competition was supposed to be a political game, not a battlefield.
"I will not make a public spectacle of this," the Emperor finally said, his voice a strained whisper. "It would make us both look foolish. But she will be punished. I will have the entire House of Rexton disbanded. Their titles will be stripped. And as for the Empress, she will be placed under house arrest until the competition is commences. No visitors. No contact with the outside world. She has no idea the chaos she has just caused."
Just as the Emperor finished speaking, the study doors burst open again.
A small, trembling woman with gray hair, Nanny Jessica, ran in, her face streaked with tears. "Your Majesty!" she wailed, her voice a hysterical cry. "It's the Empress! She... she hasn't stopped... she's been peeing on herself!"
The Emperor's face twisted in disbelief and disgust.
He stared at the crying woman, his mind unable to comprehend the bizarre report.
He looked to Alaric, his expression a silent question.
"Come with me. We will go and see what new kind of madness she has unleashed."
The Emperor led Alaric and the sobbing Nanny Jessica down the palace corridors.
The Emperor's steps were hurried, a mix of furious anger and a bizarre, dawning dread.
He had faced rebellions, assassinations, and countless political schemes, but never had he been confronted with something so utterly undignified.
When they reached the Empress's chamber, the guards at the door immediately looked away, their faces a reflection of professional stoicism.
The air was thick with an unsavory stench that made Alaric's stomach churn.
The Empress stood, a portrait of ruin.
Her face was ashen, her elaborate gown soaked in a spreading stain.
Her hands were clenched in her lap, trembling uncontrollably.
Her court of ladies-in-waiting had scattered, leaving her utterly alone.
The sight was so complete in its abject humiliation that the Emperor himself stopped dead in the doorway, his mouth agape.
"What in the world is this?" the Emperor thundered. "What has happened to you?"
The Empress looked up, her eyes wide and filled with a raw terror Alaric had never seen.
"I... I don't know," she stammered, her voice a reedy whisper. "I don't know... it won't stop."
Alaric's eyes narrowed, taking in the scene.
His mind, a fortress of logic and memory, began to put the pieces together. He remembered Daphne's unusual knowledge of the human body, her studies of rare herbs and pressure points.
He had seen her practice with small needles, a hobby his spies said she had told her grandmother was for medicinal purposes.
Daphne had not only outsmarted the Empress, she had outsmarted her in a way that was so utterly degrading and public that it would crush her spirit far more effectively than any sword or edict.
The Emperor stood over his Empress, "You mean to tell me you have no control over your own body?"
The Empress's face crumpled, her regalia shattered. "She... she did something to me. That girl... she did something to me!" she sobled, her voice a desperate, broken plea.
"What girl?" the Emperor thundered, his mind unable to connect the bizarre sight to any logical explanation.
The Empress could only point a trembling finger toward the now-closed doors. "The girl... the one you made the whole court stare at... she did something!"
A discreet smile touched the corner of Alaric's lips, but it was gone in an instant.
He stepped forward, his expression cold and unyielding.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty," he said, "I must advise Her Majesty not to make baseless accusations without proof. The stress of the competition must be getting to her."
The Emperor looked at Alaric, and a new understanding dawned on him. He had seen the proof of the ambush. He had seen the defiance in Daphne's eyes, but this... this was a new level of power.
A level of ruthless, quiet vengeance he had not even known existed. The woman he had intended to take as his prize had just brought his own Empress to her knees, all without a single word of threat.
He turned to his wife. "Alaric is right," he said, his voice like chipped ice. "You have no one to blame for this humiliation but yourself."
He then barked a command to the maids cowering in the hallway.
"Summon the Imperial Doctor at once! And then, once you have him, do not let anyone in or out of this chamber."
"As for your official punishment," the Emperor said, turning back to his wife.
"For your attempted murder of Lady Daphne and your public disgrace of our household, I hereby decree that you are to be put under house arrest. No one is to see you, and no one is to speak of this. You are to be removed from the court until the competition commences."
The Empress collapsed in her humiliation.
The man who sat on the throne, the most powerful man in the world, had just seen his empress reduced to a pathetic, helpless ruin by the one woman he had wanted for himself, and the one his closest friend had claimed as his own.
The game had just changed forever.