Throughout the annals of the Empire, the adage "trouble comes from the mouth" echoed as a recurring theme of caution.
The saga of Manuel VI, known as the Thunder, the formidable Emperor of the Empire, has captivated historians and minstrels alike for centuries. His reign reached its zenith at the conclusion of the ominous "War of Doom," where the valor of heroes like Count Olaf, hailed as the "Light of the Empire," tipped the scales in humanity's favor during a pivotal struggle against demonic forces.
In the aftermath, the young and audacious Manuel VI ascended to the throne. With a blend of youthful vigor and burgeoning ambition, he swiftly reclaimed five duchies previously lost to the Empire and pushed the demonic frontiers back with relentless force. His leadership seemed to herald an era of retribution and triumph.
However, the turning point came at a grand celebratory banquet following one of these decisive victories. Emperor Manuel VI, despite his strategic acumen on the battlefield, faltered disastrously in the court of public opinion. Before he had reached his thirtieth year, Manuel had taken twelve wives, but his favoritism towards the demure and youthful Queen Roselle of the Rose Court, over the stately Queen Mendoza of the Mountain Court, brewed a storm of discontent among the aristocracy. Political marriages, especially within the Empire, were designed to balance power among the nobility, and Manuel's overt partiality threatened this delicate equilibrium.
The banquet, soaked in victory and wine, saw Emperor Manuel in a state of unguarded revelry. Intoxicated beyond measure, he lavished affection on Queen Roselle, neglecting the simmering tensions. In a fateful blur, he declared his intention to make Roselle the sole queen. This public spectacle not only humiliated Queen Mendoza but also unsettled the gathered nobles who watched with foreboding as the emperor retired, arm in arm with Roselle.
The consequences were swift and grim. Under cover of darkness, a heartbroken and enraged Queen Mendoza entered the imperial chambers with a dagger. The tragedy that unfolded was as swift as it was fatal, both Manuel and Roselle were found slain.
The aftermath was catastrophic. Queen Mendoza faced execution for regicide, and the influence of the Mountain Court Mendoza family plummeted, relegating their once-proud name to the footnotes of history.
Historians later reflected on the incident not merely as a tale of a fallen dynasty but as a critical juncture that derailed the Empire's campaign against the demons. The premature death of Manuel VI not only halted the southern expedition but also squandered a golden opportunity to end the demonic threat, leaving the Empire to rue what might have been in a saga filled with promise yet marred by personal follies.
In a time of mounting internal discord, the Empire found itself compelled to negotiate a ceasefire, culminating in a historic peace treaty with the demonic forces. This agreement that divided the continent into northern and southern halves, allocated to demons and humans respectively, a division that persists to the present day.
This backdrop set the stage for the infamous incident where Queen Mendoza assassinated Emperor Manuel VI, an event that has since served as a grim reminder of the dangers of favoritism and indiscretion. The tales of this tragedy underscored warnings about the perils of personal biases in leadership and the volatile dynamics within royal courts.
Regrettably, such historical lessons were lost on the guards of the Igor family, who, skilled in martial arts from a young age, lacked formal education in history, leaving them oblivious to the past's instructive tales.
In a less grave but equally chaotic setting, Alice Comstock was meticulously searching for a magic crystal on a cluttered table. Meanwhile, not far off, Tom Lawrence and Chris Mann engaged in hushed, irreverent banter.
Their conversation meandered from the baffling accusations of treason against Duke Vincent Igor to speculative gossip about the sexual preferences of the contemporary emperor. Feeling safely out of earshot from any authority, Lawrence shifted the conversation to a more scandalous topic, the romantic exploits of Lord Elliot Igor, the Duke's only son.
Lawrence regaled Chris with tales heard through a convoluted network of acquaintances, stories of Lord Elliot's youthful escapades at the Citadel. According to these tales, Elliot was a legendary charmer who left a trail of heartbreak in his wake, likening him to a bee moving from flower to flower, leaving none untouched. "He navigated through a garden of dalliances, yet emerged unscathed, leaving behind nothing but wilted blossoms," Lawrence recounted with a wry smile.
Chris, inexperienced and naïve, hung on every word, his fascination evident in his awed expression and attentive silence.
Pushing the boundaries of decorum even further, Lawrence speculated wildly about Lord Elliot's unchanged nature despite his recent portrayal as a reformed and dutiful leader. He audaciously suggested that once their party left the plague-ridden area, it would only be a matter of time before either the maid, Angel Randall, or Captain Alice Comstock, fell prey to Lord Elliot's reputed charms, a point he made obliviously ignoring the fact that Alice, now an undead, was beyond such earthly desires.
Concluding his tale, Lawrence clapped a hand on Chris's shoulder, offering a piece of advice wrapped in the guise of mentorship: "While you're still young, learn from our Lord's storied past. Time is fleeting, and youth doesn't last, make the most of it and find yourself a companion before it's too late."
Through this mix of historical reflection and barracks gossip, the complex tapestry of Empire politics and personal intrigue continued to weave its influence across generations, illustrating the timeless nature of human folly and the lessons it teaches, often too late.
As Lawrence dispensed his unsolicited wisdom, he paused thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing as he searched for a poignant example to underscore his argument. He pointed dramatically towards the statue standing regally in the center of the hall.
"Chris, consider the tale of Simon Adrian over there," Lawrence began, his voice heavy with a mix of reverence and pity. "Handsome, charismatic, and an eighth-level wizard to boot. But what good did all that do him in the end? Died alone, didn't he? In his very own lab experiment, probably never having known love."
Chris nodded solemnly, absorbing the lesson, but he noticed a sudden change in Lawrence's demeanor. The older guard's eyes widened, his expression freezing in an odd mixture of horror and disbelief.
Following Lawrence's gaze, Chris spun around and his heart skipped a beat. The statue of Adrian, previously inert and benign, was now ominously buzzing with life. As the word "virgin" echoed in the hall, Adrian's bronze face contorted into a visage of fury, his metallic features twisting into a snarl.
The statue, animated by some unseen magic, lifted its long staff aggressively. Before their eyes, the staff morphed, the orb at its tip reshaping into a gleaming bronze blade, sharp and menacing.
Chris gasped, frozen in shock as the statue swung the transformed weapon through the air with a terrifying swiftness, aiming directly at them.
Amidst the chaos, Adrian's statue bellowed out in a booming voice that filled the hall, "A virgin ate your bread?!"
In that instant, Elliot and Master Lowry, who had been conversing quietly nearby, turned just in time to witness a horrifying scene. The sharp blade caught Lawrence mid-sentence, severing him in a gruesome spectacle, his upper body arcing through the air, trailed by a ghastly spray of blood.
The hall fell into stunned silence, punctuated only by the eerie hum of the animated statue, its wrath seemingly unabated. Chris stood petrified, his mind racing with the grim realization of the statue's lethal retribution. The lesson Lawrence had intended to impart took on a darkly ironic twist, leaving all who witnessed it profoundly shaken by the deadly power of historical legacies and the unforeseen dangers lurking in their midst.