Capítulo 68: Painted Chains
The private chamber deep within the Imperial Palace hummed with ancient magic as Duke Lumina and his entire family knelt before Emperor Tiberius, with only their lower bodies covered to preserve the last shred of their dignity.
The room's walls bore runes of absolute secrecy, ensuring that what transpired here would never be known beyond its confines.
"Your involvement with the poisoned chalice," the Emperor's voice was terrifyingly gentle, "would normally warrant immediate execution. The temporal binding agent alone cost you decades of careful plotting and untold resources to create."
Master runic artists moved silently among the kneeling family members, their brushes applying seemingly invisible marks across their exposed skin. The paint held no colour to normal sight, but to magical senses, the Marks of Submission blazed like brands.
"Please," Duke Lumina whispered, his legendary composure finally breaking. "My children had no part-"
"Silence." The single word carried enough power to make the room's crystals vibrate. "Your entire house participated in this treachery, planning it for generations, whether through active involvement or willing ignorance. The marks being applied will remain for a thousand years, painted onto every descendant born to your line."
The runic artists continued their work with mechanical precision. Each stroke bound House Lumina more thoroughly to Imperial will, weaving unbreakable chains of loyalty into their very beings.
"Consider this mercy," the Emperor continued. "Your house retains its position, its wealth, even its precious magical academies only because you are necessary for the empire's continued development. You are all too important to lose. But for the next thousand years, you will serve with absolute loyalty. The marks ensure it. If your descendants prove faithful for that millennium, perhaps their children might know true freedom."
The Duke's wife sobbed quietly as the artists finished their work. The marks would remain invisible until activated - a secret shame that would pass from generation to generation.
"Rise," the Emperor commanded. "Return to your duties. Serve well. And remember - should any hint of this reach the public, my mercy will end immediately. If you find this punishment excessive, or unjust even, there are public options of appeal available to you now. Perhaps other High Nobles might overlook your treason, your coup, your unrestrained greed for power. What do you think Duke Lumina?"
There was no reply, House Lumina simply filed out, their spirits broken but their public facade intact.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
In the deepest levels of House Lumina's ancestral mansion, Duke Lumina stared at his reflection in an enchanted mirror. Though his skin appeared unblemished to normal sight, his magical senses screamed at the intricate network of submission marks painted across his entire body. Even now, weeks after their application, he could feel them burning into his soul.
The marks formed an impossibly complex runic lattice, each line and curve carefully designed to ensure absolute loyalty while preserving enough free will for House Lumina to remain useful to the empire. It was, the Duke had to admit, a masterwork of magical engineering. The Emperor had even allowed them to study the marks' construction - another subtle reminder of their new place.
"Father?" His eldest daughter, Amara, entered the hidden chamber. Like all Lumina mages, she could sense the marks burning beneath her own skin. "The Academy governors are waiting."
The Radiant Citadel, House Lumina's premier magical academy, represented both their greatest achievement and now their heaviest chain. Every student who passed through its halls would be taught by instructors bearing invisible marks of absolute imperial loyalty. Generations of mages would be subtly shaped by House Lumina's enforced dedication to the throne.
"Have you explained to little Marcus?" the Duke asked softly. His youngest grandson was only three, yet the marks had been painted onto his skin as well. They would activate fully when his magical abilities manifested.
"He thinks it's a game," Amara's voice cracked slightly. "He calls them his 'special invisible pictures' and asks when they'll start glowing."
The Duke turned from the mirror, his composure perfect despite the weight of generational punishment pressing down upon him. "They were right, you know. About all of it. We grew too proud, too certain of our own supremacy. The temporal binding agent alone..."
He trailed off, remembering the venturies of research, the countless rare ingredients, the careful cultivation of ancient magics - all to create a poison worthy of an emperor. Now those same techniques would be documented and handed over to imperial researchers, another part of their punishment.
"The governors are concerned about next term's enrollment," Amara said, clearly trying to focus on practical matters. "After Lyanna's exile and the Empress's... retirement, many noble houses are reconsidering their children's education."
"Let them worry," the Duke straightened his robes. "Our academy will survive. If they knew the depth of our treason, only then would we have need for worry. Right now, all is as it's always been, nothing has changed."
As they climbed the stairs to the mansion's public areas, they passed dozens of family members going about their duties. Each bore the invisible marks, each felt the constant reminder of their house's shame. Yet outwardly, they maintained perfect aristocratic composure.
"Cousin Elena asked again about marriage prospects," Amara said quietly. "With the marks..."
"Any children she bears will inherit them," the Duke nodded. "We must be... selective in our matches now. Perhaps look to houses that would benefit from such enforced loyalty."
The marks' reproductive aspects had been particularly cruel - or brilliant, depending on perspective. They would pass to every child born to a marked parent, maintaining their hold on House Lumina's bloodline for exactly one thousand years. The Emperor had even included a generational counter in the runic matrix, allowing bearers to know exactly how many years remained in their sentence.
In the mansion's grand hall, portraits of Lumina ancestors stared down at them. Proud mages who had helped build the empire, who had developed new schools of magic, who had served emperors faithfully - right up until ambition overwhelmed good sense.
"The Academy governors await in the blue salon," a servant announced with perfect courtesy. If he noticed how his masters seemed diminished lately, he gave no sign.
"Shall we discuss the new curriculum, Father?" Amara's voice carried just the right note of academic enthusiasm. "I have some thoughts on incorporating recent imperial philosophy into the advanced theory classes."
The Duke nodded, knowing the marks would ensure any changes served the empire's interests. They had been left enough independence to maintain their reputation for magical innovation, but never again would House Lumina's research threaten imperial power.
As they entered the salon, the governors rose and bowed. Many were distant relatives who also bore the marks. Those few from other houses had no idea why House Lumina had suddenly become so perfectly aligned with imperial policy.
"Lords and ladies," the Duke began, his public mask firmly in place. "Let us discuss the future of magical education in our glorious empire."
The marks burned beneath his skin, a constant reminder of pride's price. Yet House Lumina would endure. They would serve, they would teach, they would maintain their public dignity. And in a mere thousand years, their debt would be paid.
Until then, they wore their painted chains with perfect aristocratic grace. It was, after all, better than the execution they had truly deserved. The Emperor's mercy, terrible though it seemed, had preserved their house's future - even if that future came with invisible strings.
The governors began their reports, and House Lumina continued its new existence - outwardly unchanged, inwardly transformed, permanently bound to imperial will by marks that would fade only when a thousand years of perfect loyalty had been recorded in their very blood.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Lady Selene Lumina, once considered the most promising young mage of her generation, sat in her private study reviewing marriage proposals. Each scroll bore the seal of a noble house seeking alliance with the still-prestigious Lumina name. None of them knew that accepting their suits would doom their future children to bear the marks.
"Another from House Silvermane," she murmured, setting aside a particularly ornate scroll. The marks beneath her skin tingled at her ethical dilemma - was it right to bind unsuspecting bloodlines to their punishment?
Her younger brother Marcus burst in, face flushed with excitement. At seven years old, his magical abilities had just begun manifesting, which meant his previously dormant marks had activated fully. "Sister! Look what I can do!"
He held out his hands, creating a small light display - a basic spell taught to all Lumina children. But as he channeled magic, the invisible marks across his skin resonated with imperial power, subtly guiding his development along approved paths.
"Very good, Marcus," Selene smiled, hiding her heartache. Her brother would never know unrestricted magic, never experience the pure joy of unfettered magical discovery that had once been House Lumina's birthright.
In his private chambers, Archmagister Vincent Lumina, the house's foremost magical researcher, stared at his life's work with growing despair. The marks didn't just ensure loyalty - they actively prevented certain kinds of magical research. Whole avenues of temporal manipulation, reality alteration, and power enhancement were now literally unthinkable to marked members of the house.
"Thirty years of theoretical frameworks," he whispered, watching his notes on temporal manipulation with no understanding of what he had written in the very recent past as the marks enforced their restrictions. "All gone because we reached too far."
Meanwhile, in the Academy's grand lecture hall, Professor Helena Lumina delivered a carefully modified lesson on magical theory to the empire's next generation of mages. The marks guided her words, ensuring every concept she taught reinforced imperial authority while still conveying genuine magical knowledge.
"The relationship between power and responsibility," she lectured, feeling the marks warm approvingly, "is fundamental to proper magical development. Consider how our empire's structure perfectly mirrors the hierarchical nature of magical energy itself..."
Her students, children of various noble houses, absorbed the subtle messaging woven through otherwise excellent instruction. None would realise how their understanding of magic was being carefully shaped to support imperial power.
In the family's private shrine, Dowager Duchess Lumina knelt before ancestral tablets, tears falling silently. "Forgive us," she prayed to generations of proud Lumina mages. "We thought ourselves above natural law, above imperial authority. Now our descendants will bear the price of our hubris."
The marks provided an ironic comfort - at least House Lumina would survive, even if changed forever. Their magical knowledge, their influence, their prestige would continue. They would remain among the empire's premier magical families, just permanently leashed to imperial will.
Duke Lumina's wife, once the empire's most skilled enchantress, found her workshop's possibilities suddenly limited. The marks prevented her from crafting anything that might threaten imperial power, subtly redirecting her considerable talents toward approved creations.
"Another protective amulet?" she sighed, looking at her workbench. "How our ambitions have been trimmed..."
"Perhaps," Duke Lumina mused, watching his grandchildren practice basic spells with perfect precision, "this is what the Emperor truly intended. Not just punishment, but reformation. A house that once reached too high, transformed into perfect servants of order."
The marks would ensure House Lumina's magic never again threatened imperial power. But they also seemed to be creating something new - a bloodline of mages whose very nature aligned with imperial harmony, whose power served order rather than ambition.
A thousand years was a long time. Long enough, perhaps, for forced loyalty to become genuine devotion, for painted chains to become willing bonds. House Lumina would survive, would adapt, would perhaps even thrive within their new limitations.
But they would never forget the cost of overreaching or the weight of marks that bound not just their bodies but their very futures to imperial will. Every child born to their blood would carry this lesson written in invisible fire beneath their skin.
The painted chains would remain, a secret shame and a constant reminder, until a thousand years of perfect loyalty earned their descendants the right to choose their own path once more.
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
N0N4M3_MONK
N0N4M3_MONK Dear All,
Due to my own personal reflections, and some not-so-nice commentary I'm receiving, I've decided to suspend all writing on this story. I will be posting the remaining chapters as I edit them after which I will go back to the drawing board and work on a new story that I'm currently outlining, and begin posting that story under a new account in the next few months (doing this to put this chapter behind me). Hopefully, my writing finds you again, and I hope that I'm able to provide a better story with this next attempt.
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