Chapter 50: Ashes of Names, Beneath the Serpent's Throne

In Serpentonia, the emperor had an advisory council that managed the administration on his behalf. Members of this body were chosen based on their noble titles and the influence they held within the empire. However, whether a noble was accepted or not was entirely at the emperor's discretion, who had the authority to appoint or remove any council member he deemed unworthy of the appointed position or title. The council was led by a prime minister, selected from a list of popular nominees. The top ten candidates with the highest endorsements from the council got nominated for the role of prime minister. At any time, the council consists of around 500 active members. The council goes by a different name to the outside world, called the Grand Parliament, the largest of its kind in the region.

The night before it happened, the noble district lay silent under a moonlit sky. The district, carved in radial sectors around the Imperial Palace, was divided from its grandeur by an artificial canal wide enough for boats to pass through. Though manmade, the waterway had long since become a lifeline for transporting goods and travellers across the city and beyond.

Inside one of the grand manors, a nobleman lingered on his balcony, sipping from a fine glass of aged wine. He exhaled contentedly as he gazed at the stars.

“Ahh… what a pleasant night this is,” he muttered to himself.

His peace was shattered with the sudden arrival of a shadowy figure. The nobleman nearly dropped his glass.

“You seem awfully cheerful tonight, Balgar,” the figure said coolly. “Something I should be privy to?”

“Tch, way to ruin the mood,” Balgar snapped. “How many times have I told you not to appear in places like this?”

“Spare me the theatrics. I hear the Emperor summoned a secret council meeting not long ago. So—how did it go? Anything worth noting?”

Balgar poured a second glass for the intruder, but, when it was ignored, he set it down and began drinking straight from the bottle, his restraint slipping with each gulp.

“Straight to business, haa...” he sighed. “Fine. There was a theft in the Intelligence Bureau’s laboratories. The matter is being smothered in silence, but the council gathered to address the rumours. By the way…”—he tilted his head—“was it your doing?”

The figure’s answer was a flat, resonant no.

“Well, that makes things worse,” Balgar muttered. “If even you aren’t behind it, then there are more players on the board than I thought. The Emperor is tightening security everywhere. I don’t want to be caught in the crossfire. So do me a favour—stop pressuring me until this storm passes.”

The figure’s eyes narrowed.

“Since when were you the master of this arrangement? You knew exactly what you were binding yourself to when you signed our deal. Or are you growing cold feet, Balgar? …Regardless, tell me—what else happened behind those doors that we weren’t meant to hear?”

Frustration flickered across Balgar’s face, but he finally relented.

“I don’t know who, but the Emperor has sealed a pact with a powerful ally. He’s keeping it hidden, even from most high nobles. But judging by the factories being built and the land cleared under quiet orders…”—he jabbed a finger toward the night sky—“it has to be a nation from the clouds above. Knowing you folks. I figure you would have pieced that much you yourselves by now.”

“That muddies things further,” the figure muttered. “I’ll look into it. For now, our contact breaks—we’ll protect your cover. But don’t forget who you’re dealing with.”

He turned to leave but stopped, his voice cutting back like a knife.

“Oh—and Balgar… do you know what was stolen from those labs?”

Caught mid-drink, Balgar froze, then answered with a drunken shrug.

“No details. But I heard Intelligence had obtained something from the Crafters—something tied to that Michael fellow. What they took, or how, I couldn’t say.”

At the mention of the Crafters, the figure’s senses sharpened.

“Crafters… Has that fool finally lost his mind? A coup? No… not his style. Still, this matter can’t be ignored.”

Without another word, the figure vanished into the night, leaving Balgar alone with his wine and his gnawing unease.

In Arcana Vale, the ancient city of Serpentonia, home to the imperial throne and the central administrative body of the Grand Parliament, was alive with its usual daytime bustle.

The streets buzzed with crowds and commerce, but deep within the Imperial Palace, silence and secrets prevailed. Hidden beneath the marble halls lay a feared dungeon known to few—a place where betrayal was punished in quiet brutality. Cell-like cages formed a complex labyrinth, leading to larger cells reserved for special individuals. One such cell housed Councilman Duke Galen Balgar, who awoke from a heavy sleep in a cold, unfamiliar space. The damp stone walls and stale air, tinged with decay, surrounded him, while flickering torches cast dim light over his confined surroundings. He shuffled toward the iron bars, peering through them, trying to discern any details in the oppressive dark. But all he could see were endless empty cells stretching into the gloom. There were no windows. No sun. No sense of time. Only silence—until the rhythmic sound of boots echoed down the corridor.

A figure emerged from the darkness, holding a torch in his dominant hand. He wore dark armour, a flowing black cloak, and a helmet that masked his face entirely. Yet, the moment the noble laid eyes on him, something clicked in his gut.

“You... it was you,” Galen sputtered, panic slipping into his tone. “Why am I here? Why me of all people? Let me out of here this instant! Do you know who I am?!”

The armoured figure said nothing. He simply stared at the nobleman's desperate face, as if trying to memorise it, and then, after his patience ran dry, he lashed out when he grew fed up with the persistent rambling.

"Silence, you fool! You are exactly where you are supposed to be," the knight spoke in a raised, authoritative tone, but fell silent when a hand touched the back of his armour. Despite the separation of the metal plating, the knight could sense the dense magical pressure pressing against his back, completely ignoring the thick armour plating.

"That will be all, Klang. You did well, just as I asked you to," the unknown voice spoke. Klang, the black knight, knew exactly whose voice it was, so he quickly fell silent, just as he had spoken up.

“As for you. Oh, I know exactly who you are, Duke Galen Balgar,” the voice spoke from behind the masked knight—calm, precise, and unmistakably regal. “And a man of your stature... deserves to be in a place like this. And nowhere else. Just as the Knight said.”

The duke’s blood ran cold. That voice. It was impossible—but he knew it.

“No... it can’t be,” Galen whispered, his complexion turning pale as the flame's light revealed the approaching figure.

It was none other than the emperor himself.

“Your Eminence! I can explain! There has been some misunderstanding! I am sure of it,” the duke cried out, suddenly grovelling as his hands clutched the iron bars in desperation.

“Misunderstanding, you say?” the emperor repeated, his tone icy and amused. “Indeed, I made one. I misjudged your character.”

The duke’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His head shook in silent protest.

“You know,” the emperor continued, stepping closer, “when I took the throne from my predecessor, I made sure to cleanse the court of every vulture circling the crown. Anyone with dreams of usurpation—or even dissatisfaction with the new regime—was silenced. Erased. So that when I assumed power, the palace would be free of pests.”

The emperor locked eyes with Galen.

“And yet, here you are. A cockroach I missed. I didn't take you to be the one who would go to such lengths to betray me.”

The duke blinked, uncertain whether to feel relief or dread under the monarch’s gaze.

The emperor's tone grew sharper. “So yes, I made a mistake—not seeing your betrayal coming. Most of the nobles I left standing were content with wealth or meagre influence. But you—you deceived my eyes for far too long, I must say you had me running circles there. If not for the recent developments with the theft and forging of new alliances. You would have kept hiding under the rug for much, much longer. I commend you for that.”

Galen remained silent, mouth tight.

“So tell me, Galen... how much were you bought for? And by whom?”

The flash of hope drained from the duke’s eyes. He merely shook his head, still in denial.

“Power abhors a vacuum. After all, one simply cannot remove the weeds in the lawn completely. You can only cut it down when it grows too unsightly,” the emperor said with a grim smile. “I knew that after clearing the house, new threats would emerge. But I never imagined a lowlife such as yourself would be first to pounce at the first sign of an opportunity.”

Still, the duke said nothing. So the emperor continued, voice low, almost contemplative.

“Was it the Holy Sky Empire? No... not after our recent diplomatic ties. They’re ambitious lie elsewhere. And it's not their style.”

The duke’s face remained unchanged.

“Perhaps the recent theft in the capital? But no... knowing them, they’d never leave loose ends. And with what little I know of them, their goals are analogous to those of the empire. You’re too messy for their taste.”

The nobleman was a stone.

“The demons, then? Did they promise you something you couldn’t gain otherwise?”

No reaction.

“The Helvetians?”

For the briefest of moments—just a flicker—the duke’s expression shifted. Barely perceptible. But it was enough.

“Ah... so it was them,” the emperor murmured. “What did they offer you?”

"Highness, I can explain. I am innocent. I am being framed here for sure. Just give me a chance to clear my name." Galen begged, trying to gather any sympathy he could.

"Innocent, you say. Then explain this to me." The emperor tossed a leather-bound ledger through the bars, like he tossed a bone at his many exotic pets. The book flung open, and a scroll rolled to a stop at Galen’s feet.

The noble’s face twitched. “Since when did Your Highness know about my embezzlement?”

The emperor’s voice was quiet and deathly calm. “What do you take me for. I knew it from the very beginning. From your first act of corruption. You were never clever—just lucky. I tolerated you because you were irrelevant. But that... that seems like it was an error on my part.”

Galen was caught completely off guard; his confused look gave away everything.

"You thought you were clever and survived the purge. How foolish of you," the emperor said with a cold laugh. "I wouldn't have cared about your corruption. It's a serious damage to the governance process, sure, but in my bigger plans, it doesn’t matter. There are others like you on my list, but I haven’t acted against them. No. The reason why you're here and they are not is what you did after that. But you already know that, don't you?"

Finally, Galen came clean. Torture wasn’t needed. He spoke of how Helvetian spies uncovered his financial crimes and blackmailed him into aiding their infiltration efforts. He had helped establish a network of informants and sleeper agents across the empire. All to save his name and his family.

The emperor listened quietly. Then asked one final question:

“Tell me, Galen. What did they owe you in return? You always struck me as the type to demand repayment. Let me guess...” He leaned in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Your son. He’s been abroad for some time now. For ‘studies,’ wasn’t it? But no knowing you, that most likely was the icing on top of the cake.”

Galen’s lips curled ever so slightly into a faint, involuntary grin.

The emperor stood straight once more.

“Duke Galen Balgar—no... former Duke Galen Balgar. After your betrayal, the title is but a lie.”

He gestured toward the surrounding cells.

“Do you know what happened to the others who crossed me? The ones who dared challenge my authority?”

The duke glanced around hesitantly but said nothing.

“They’re here, Galen,” the emperor said coldly. “Their names forgotten outside these walls, but they never left these chambers. "

With a subtle flick of his hand, a small flame—reddish-yellow in hue—sprang from the emperor’s palm and dropped to the stone floor.

The flames spread like wildfire.

Within seconds, it engulfed Galen’s cell, roaring in fury. He screamed, his pleas drowned beneath the violent crackle of flame. His hands clawed at the bars, then the air, then nothing.

The fire consumed him—slowly, cruelly—until his screams faded and the dungeon was illuminated by an eerie, blazing glow. The light revealed the full horror of the place: charred remains in distant cells, soot-covered walls, and the ashen shadows of forgotten individuals who were once held captive in this place.

When the flames finally died down, the chamber began to fall into darkness gradually.

The emperor turned and exited with the black-armored knight in silence.

As they climbed the steps back toward the palace above, the knight broke the silence. “Sire, what of the House Balgar? And its descendants?”

The emperor’s voice was absolute. “By sunrise tomorrow, I do not want to hear the name Balgar spoken in these halls. Am I clear?”

The knight bowed deeply, a silent affirmation of the ruthless decree.

"I suppose we are short one councilman. Please inform Foust about the recent developments and have him compile a new list of potential candidates," the emperor commanded as they pressed forward.

"And what about the Helvetian spies, Sire?" one of his aides inquired.

The emperor paused for a moment, deep in thought, before responding to the dilemma. "Considering the level of Helvetian spy infiltration and our plans, I suggest we let them be for now.  Feed them false intel, but do so subtly. Ensure they don’t realise we're playing them; this should help us uncover what they are up to. If we are not careful, this could affect our plans. Fail even.  Inform this to the Bureau chief, will you?" The emperor spoke with his arms folded, stroking his chin thoughtfully while carefully examining one of the old paintings hanging on the palace corridor walls.

 The black knight, Kale, accepted the emperor's decree.

The scene faded into darkness as the last remaining embers of the flames dimmed.

***