The King Of All Pussy

To your right was Tiberius Mortis, the legendary faithful Hound of Crownol, leader of the exclusive Tenth Legion and now commander of all the empire's armies. He was the embodiment of power itself: while Aelius sat rigid and upright, Tiberius was leaning back, the fingers of a gauntlet forming a rhythmic tattoo on the wooden armrest of the chair. His arms were immense, and his expression, stern.

The third figure, simply called "Faceless," was a mystery. The person was motionless in the chair, covered from head to toe in a voluminous, multi-layered robe. They wore a shiny black mask devoid of any expressive features, and even the eye holes were veiled by a dark mesh, completely hiding their identity. Their hands were also hidden beneath the thick fabric sleeves. Alyssa thought she might have noticed a vaguely feminine aspect to the mask, but it could simply be the angle of the light.

With a subtle nod of his chin, Tiberius dismissed the legionnaires who had escorted the pair. In greeting, the two warriors clenched their fists to their chests and took a few steps back, leaving Alyssa and her brother alone before the Trax.

"Please, have a seat," Aelius said, pointing to the chairs in front of him.

"I prefer to stand, Grand General," Oram replied.

"As you wish."

There was undeniably something threatening and predatory about the general, Alyssa decided... Considering he was an amputee entering the twilight of life...

"Oram and Alyssa val-Lokan, third and fourth children of the Governor of Fort Minério," he continued. "It's been a long journey from the Crystal Mountains. I imagine this isn't a social visit."

"I've brought my father's seal," Oram said, "to speak on his behalf."

"Then proceed," Tiberius said, his voice sounding like the warning growl of a spirit wolf. "And make it brief. This is Crownol, not a noble court."

His pronunciation was rough and rustic, in stark contrast to Aelius' refined accent. Tiberius spoke like a common man, and Alyssa could almost sense her brother's scorn.

"For decades, Fort Minério has served faithfully," Oram began, emphasizing the nobility of his own accent in a possibly imprudent display of superiority. "Our crystal fuels your conquests; our armors and runes sustain the empire's armies, including the Tenth Legion."

Tiberius didn't seem impressed. "The ore from the Crystal Mountains produces the highest quality armor. In fact, I would never allow the Legion to use anything else. You should be proud."

"We are proud, my lord," Alyssa said.

"I am not your lord, let alone yours." Tiberius smiled and raised his hand. "What he means is: in Crownol, no man or woman is born superior. It's not through lineage that one earns their place, but through actions."

"W-Well, of course," Alyssa hesitated, cursing herself internally for her mistake.

"We toil like slaves in the darkness of the deep mines beneath the mountains," Oram continued. "And every day we see the fruits of our labor taken away from us in large empty train cars. We can barely feed ourselves..."

"Really?" exclaimed Aelius, raising an eyebrow. "Please, turn your palms up."

"What?" Oram said, surprised.

"Show me your hands, boy," Tiberius said, leaning on the polished surface of the table between them. "Show me those hands that labor in the stone, the dust, and the darkness beneath the mountain fortress."

Oram remained impassive, refusing to comply. Tiberius scoffed. "This one has never suffered in his life. Neither has she. The few calluses you have certainly didn't come from hard work."

"I won't allow someone to speak to me like this..." Oram began, but Alyssa placed a calming hand on his shoulder. Angered, he shrugged off her hand, but wisely chose not to finish the sentence. "The mountains are bleeding resources," he said, in a more measured tone. "It's unsustainable and not good for anyone—neither for us, nor for the armies of Crownol. Someone has to give in."

"Bloop!"

Suddenly, a funny sound emanated from the floor near Alyssa. Everyone paused and turned their attention to the floor, which disappeared into a small block of stone.

Emerging from the small square hole was a young man devoid of any magical signs, except for a gauntlet in his hand emitting a faint level 3 energy signal. He had a strong physique and was wearing a white coat, with a freely moving metal arm on his back.

He stood up and faced everyone in the grand hall, his gaze filled with adrenaline. "I'll only warn you once! Pay attention, or you will return what was taken from me, or I will turn this damn empire into ashes!"

The young man smiled and continued with determination. "To make you believe me, I will first demonstrate the power I have in my hands!"

With a snap of his fingers, everyone froze, watching him in a strange manner, as if he were a mere ant. After a few moments, nothing happened. Aelius smiled and addressed the faceless figure, who had been silently listening to the conversation. "I'm quite certain I told you I didn't want a court jester!" The expressionless face said nothing, remaining motionless.

"BOOM!"

Suddenly, all expectations were shattered as a devastating explosion occurred.

The explosion collided with the barrier surrounding the city, its bright light and devastation shaking everything around. The destructive power was equivalent to an attack by a level 6 mage.

Everyone in the room trembled from the impact, and an immense energy mushroom rose above the barrier, which began to show cracks, gradually forming large holes, rendering the empire's central city completely vulnerable to external forces.

The young man was now the only one smiling in the hall, even these cold individuals who had been trained since childhood not to show emotions faltered at the destruction caused by the small human before them.

"Now that everyone knows what's at stake, I want what was taken from me, for the next explosion won't be outside the barrier, it will be here at the heart of the empire!"

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