3rd POV
Far in the north of Aethelgia, beyond the mountains where the snows never melted, stood the second empire of the continent, a realm cloaked in rituals, ruled by ancient bloodlines and divine right.
In its most lavish stronghold, within a chamber buried under layers of ancient runes and guarded by layers of invisible enchantments, a meeting was underway. Moonlight filtered weakly through half-drawn curtains, casting pale shadows on marble floors and gold-trimmed walls. The air was still, heavy with power and silence.
A man sat on an opulent chair carved from blackened wood, his face veiled in darkness. His voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
"So," he began coldly, "you failed to secure the child?"
The reply did not come from anyone present in the room. Instead, a translucent screen shimmered above a polished desk, projected from a small crystal ball nestled in a wooden stand. The figure within was indistinct, his voice filtered through layers of arcane static.
"We hit a few… complications," said the figure on the screen. His voice was flippant, almost bored. "We hadn't anticipated the child being in Fors Barony."
The man in the chair leaned forward slightly. His tone sharpened.
"Complications? A barony? You claim to be professionals, and yet you weren't thorough in your reconnaissance?"
"No amount of preparation would have been enough," the man on the screen replied with a shrug. "Fors Barony is the home of The Valkyrie."
A pause. The room seemed to grow colder.
"The Valkyrie…? You mean that Valkyrie?"
"Yes. The same." The figure on the screen raised a hand to his face, failing to cover the jagged scar that ran across the left side of his face, bisecting a hollow socket where his eye used to be. "She was guarding him."
The seated man went still for several long moments, fingers drumming against the armrest.
"Were you able to identify the boy?"
"Not confirmed… but we believe he may be the 'National Treasure of Basiledra'…"
The man's hand slammed down on the table. The crystal pulsed in response.
"Then you should have killed him!"
The translucent figure only sighed.
"Your request was to retrieve the children, not kill them. And again, we haven't confirmed it yet."
"Useless," the man growled. "What are we even paying you for? Where is your brother? I will speak to him—leader to leader."
The voice sharpened.
"That won't be possible. My brother is attending to matters of greater importance."
The man rose to his feet, fury mounting. "You mere mercenaries dare—"
"—Dare to remind you," the scarred man cut in, voice sharp, "that you are not my brother's equal. Comparing yourself to my brother is an insult to his name. I hope I've made that clear… Emperor of the Empyrean Sovereignty."
The title was spat out like venom.
Before the emperor could lash out again, the mercenary continued, calm and measured.
"As for the child," he said, "you may not need to concern yourself. It seems the Valois Dukedom is already making its move. They may do your work for you."
The screen flickered and went dark.
The emperor stood alone in the moonlight, fists trembling, fury seething beneath his jeweled robes. Somewhere far below the empire's gilded halls, the fate of the world shifted—and the game around a single boy began.