The grand hall of House Bersa echoed with whispers and sombre expressions, as the noble families gathered in a tense assembly.
Dressed in resplendent robes of deep emerald and gold, the nobles cast worried glances at one another, their faces etched with lines of concern. Shadows danced on the walls, mirroring the chaos that had befallen the empire.
At the head of the table, Lord Alistair Bersa, the patriarch of the house, stood tall with a commanding presence. His salt-and-pepper hair hinted at the wisdom and experience he possessed, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the room, seeking support and unity amidst the turmoil.
"My esteemed allies," Lord Bersa began, his voice carrying a tone of urgency and determination.
"We find ourselves amid a crisis unlike any we have faced before. The royal family has vanished, leaving our beloved empire in disarray. The streets have become battlegrounds, and our people are tearing each other apart."
"And my beloved daughter also vanished, and her whereabouts are unknown,"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, as the nobles exchanged grave looks, their hearts heavy with sorrow for their crumbling world.
"Our fellow nobles are being slaughtered, and even the commoners are not spared," Lord Bersa continued, his voice tinged with anguish.
"Monstrous creatures have emerged from the depths of darkness, further plunging our empire into chaos. The very fabric of our society is unravelling, and we cannot stand idly by while our lands bleed."
He knew at this rate, they are speedrunning their way to destruction.
Lady Elara, a resolute woman with fiery red hair and a sharp intellect, rose from her seat, her emerald-green gown rustling softly.
"Duke Bersa, what course of action do you propose? How do we reclaim the peace we have lost? My nephew? And my sister-in-law? Where are they?"
She knew at this rate, as the only surviving member of the royal family everything would be on her shoulders, even though the emperor basically discarded her from the family by giving her hand to another lord without even asking her permission.
Lord Bersa's gaze settled on his other daughter, Daphnia, a young woman of grace and courage who had inherited her father's determination.
She looked like she was in her teens ages, but it was strange as Lord Berda was at least seventy years old and everyone knew something gross must have happened, but all of them decided to close their mouths and wait to see what was happening.
"Daphnia, you inherited the power from your father, I no longer can use my power like in my prime, but you have Bersa family blood running through your veins,"
Her dark curls cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face marked by determination and a strong will.
"Yes Father, what should I do?"
More than a daughter, she sounded like a slave as she had eyes that didn't even dare to look at Lord Bersa in his eyes.
"Recently, I heard the news about your sister being alive in another country, which is far more powerful than us, and it looks like she did something impossible,"
He said while tapping the table.
He knew the current Sacredmore royal family is no more, and he already planned to kill the last surviving member, as he didn't want to see them on the throne again.
"With their help, we will be able to rebuild the order in our empire, all we need is an army that can stop everyone from going on rampages,"
His plan was to use the father title and make Daphnia, who is Velian's mother also her first daughter support her.
After all, she knew that girl was obedient to him, no matter how old she is.
"Daphnia, I'm happy to hear that you're alive, so be useful to me again, just like how you obeyed me before," He thought and stood up from his table and looked at the other nobles.
"Kill all the commoners that try to break into the castle, this is a good time to weed out all the bad fruits,"
His orders were too cruel, but all the nobles were so afraid of getting killed that one of them had time to think about the ethics or at least sympathy with each other.
***
The night sky was ablaze with fiery torches as the enraged cries of the commoners echoed through the castle walls.
The once-imposing gates of House Bersa strained under the weight of the desperate masses, as they sought refuge and justice amidst the chaos that plagued the empire. Inside the castle courtyard, a tense standoff unfolded between the beleaguered nobles and the restless commoners.
Lady Elara, her eyes brimming with determination, stepped forward, her emerald gown billowing around her.
"People of the empire," she called out, her voice carrying the weight of her royal lineage. "We understand your grievances, but we implore you to reconsider this path of violence. We seek to restore order and bring peace to our land."
She was a passive woman, who wasn't keen on this violence or committing violence so Lord Bersa kept her by his side in this hard time, in case he wanted to use her for his own protection showing that he is actually going to give throne to her.
A burly man, his hands calloused from toil, stepped forth from the crowd. His face was hardened by years of struggle and his voice trembled with anger.
"Words, noblewoman, we've had enough of empty words!" he retorted, his voice laced with bitterness. "We starve while you dine in luxury. Our children are slaughtered while your children sleep soundly in their beds."
Other commoners raised their voices in agreement, their anger mounting with each passing moment. The nobles exchanged wary glances, realizing that mere words would not quell the storm that raged within the hearts of the oppressed.
One of the other nobles, his voice steady and commanding, commanded the guards as they didn't have time to deal with commoners,
"Disperse them! Show them we will not yield to their demands!"
The guards, clad in armour and armed with weapons, stepped forward, their resolve clear.
But as they raised their weapons to strike down the commoners, an unexpected turn of events shattered the fragile balance of power.
All the guards that are commoners, their faces masked by helmets, suddenly turned on their nobles, their blades swift and lethal. Shock rippled through the nobles as blood stained the cobblestones, the casualties of their own command.
Lady Elara, her eyes wide with disbelief, cried out in horror. "What treachery is this? Guards, cease this madness! Let's solve this peacefully,"
But the remaining guards seemed unswayed, their loyalty severed by the very hands that had once commanded them.
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