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The tears of the Thrones

Tempora_Rement
35
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Synopsis
In an ancient time, two great empires ruled at opposite ends of the known world: the Eastern kingdom of Goryeo and the African empire of Kemetwa. Two rulers, born to lead, fated to clash. But a forbidden love blossomed amidst war, defying the order of the world and awakening forces beyond imagination. Centuries later, in a modern world that has forgotten… their souls begin to awaken again.
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Chapter 1 - CHAPTER 1: The Emperor of a Thousand Victories

Year 1275. Kingdom of Goryeo.

Mount Aseong was red with blood. The morning mist rose lazily, mingling with the cries of men who had only just fallen. On the ridge, Emperor Go Tae-jun, draped in a crimson silk cloak embroidered with golden dragons, stood watching the battlefield. He said nothing. His black armor, adorned with scale-like patterns, shimmered under the pale morning light. His face was young, but his eyes were ancient.

The wind carried the scent of metal and upturned earth. Even the soil seemed to groan.

Go Tae-jun was the emperor no one had ever dared to contradict. He had never lost a war. Every kingdom to the East had bowed before his strategy. Yet that morning, his gaze seemed to seek something beyond victory.

He returned to the Imperial Palace. Immense, the building was made of dark wood, with rooftops curved upward like bird wings. Hanging lanterns danced gently, casting warm light on lacquered pillars. In the great throne hall, hand-painted silk carpets displayed scenes of dragons, lotus flowers, and ancient battles.

The Council of Strategists awaited him. On the central table lay a new map. Made of rough parchment, written in an unknown script. At the bottom, a name scrawled by a merchant: Kemetwa.

"It lies to the south, Your Majesty. Beyond the seas. They say a kingdom there is ruled by a woman."

Tae-jun turned slowly. He smiled. Not in mockery. But in curiosity. A woman? At the head of an empire?

"Send a scout. A man I trust."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

He rose, the folds of his red robe trailing on the floor like liquid fire. He sensed that this name… this name was more than a point on a map. It was a calling.