The wax seal still gleamed red beneath the lamplight — the serpent coiled around the crown, the mark of the Varkan Dominion.
Silas sat back in his chair, fingers drumming against the armrest as he reread the letter's opening line:
"In three days' time, Her Highness Princess Elmisa El Blank, daughter of Her Imperial Majesty of the Varkan Dominion, will arrive in Vel Dragan as envoy and guest."
His golden eyes narrowed. A princess?
So that was their play diplomacy wrapped in silk instead of steel.
He had expected Varkan to probe his borders, not his heart.
Damian stood at his side, silent but tense.
"A marriage alliance," Silas murmured. "They're moving faster than I thought."
"Shall I prepare countermeasures, Your Majesty?" Damian asked.
"No. Prepare the palace instead. If the serpent offers honey, I want to taste how much poison it hides."
He rose, crossing to the window. The night outside was heavy with rain, the sound of thunder rolling faintly in the distance.
"Three days," Silas whispered. "Let's see what Varkan truly wants."
---
Three days later, the capital gleamed like polished steel beneath the morning sun. Flags bearing both empires' sigils — the dragon of Vel Dragan and the serpent of Varkan — fluttered above the gate towers.
Trumpets blared as the envoy procession entered the city: black-and-silver carriages surrounded by armored guards with long, curved spears. The people of Vel Dragan gathered along the roadsides, whispering at the sight.
When the royal carriage door opened, Princess Elmisa El Blank stepped down and for a moment, even the wind seemed to still.
She was young perhaps twenty tall and poised, her silver hair braided with sapphire threads. Her eyes were a pale violet, sharp as a blade and calm as still water. She carried herself not like a supplicant, but an equal or perhaps, a rival.
At the palace gates, Silas awaited her, clad in a black and gold robe with the imperial dragon embroidered in fine thread across his chest.
Their eyes met gold and violet lightning against moonlight.
"Your Majesty," she said with a practiced bow, her voice smooth and confident. "I bring the greetings and goodwill of my mother, the Empress of Varkan."
"And yet," Silas replied evenly, "you carry yourself as though you bring her command instead."
A faint smile touched her lips. "One can only represent power by possessing some of it."
The court murmured, but Silas only smirked slightly.
"Then come," he said. "Let's see what power truly looks like."
---
Later, in the grand audience hall, the delegation assembled. The Varkan attendants knelt; Elmisa remained standing beside Silas' throne.
"Your Majesty," she began, "Varkan seeks peace. Our empires share a border, a history, and too many graves. My mother wishes to end that cycle through unity — through a marriage alliance between our bloodlines."
Gasps rippled through the nobles. Some whispered hope, others suspicion. Silas said nothing for a long moment.
He studied her, every flicker of her eyes, every controlled breath. She was too composed for someone offering herself as a diplomatic bride.
Finally, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.
"Tell me, Princess," he said quietly, "do you believe you're worthy to become my wife?"
The words echoed through the hall like thunder. Even Damian's expression shifted slightly.
Elmisa didn't flinch. "Worth is determined by will, not by name," she said calmly. "If the question is of bloodline, mine stands beside yours. If it is of mind she stepped closer, then test me."
A dangerous spark gleamed in Silas' eyes. "You're bold. I like that."
---
He dismissed the nobles with a wave, keeping only Damian and a few guards present.
"Very well," he said. "Let's begin."
He led Elmisa through the corridor of relics — ancient war maps, tactical diagrams, fragments of mana stones sealed behind glass. They stopped before a large table where an unfinished map of the continent lay marked with colored pins.
"You studied statecraft, I assume?"
"Since I could read," she replied.
"Then tell me," Silas said, crossing his arms, "what would you do if you ruled an empire surrounded by three rivals, weakened by internal rebellion, and feared by its own nobles?"
Elmisa examined the board in silence. The flicker of torches cast a golden glow on her face as she slowly moved one of the pins.
"First," she said, "I would rebuild fear. Not through war, but through competence. Enemies strike only when they sense weakness. Show strength even if it's borrowed and they hesitate."
She shifted two more pins.
"Second, silence the nobles through relevance. Give them purpose, and they'll forget rebellion. Leave them idle, and they'll remember ambition."
Then she paused, her eyes locking on his.
"Third, never marry an ally until you're strong enough to risk betrayal."
Silas raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself.
"So this proposal is a trap of your mother's making?"
"A test," Elmisa corrected. "To see what kind of man rules Vel Dragan now. You are... not what our reports described."
Silas smirked. "Neither are you."
---
They stood there for a long moment two predators circling, each measuring the other's strength.
Silas could sense her mana faintly, subtle and refined, coiled like a serpent ready to strike. She wasn't just a diplomat she was trained, dangerous, calculating.
"You speak like a tactician," he said.
"And you test like one," she replied.
A faint rumble of thunder rolled outside. Silas turned toward the sound, his expression unreadable.
"You may stay in the eastern wing of the palace. Damian will ensure your comfort and your safety."
Elmisa gave a slight bow. "Safety, Your Majesty, depends on intent. And mine is not to harm only to understand."
As she turned to leave, Silas spoke softly, almost to himself:
"The serpent and the dragon... perhaps the world will see which one breathes longer fire."
---
That night, Silas returned to his chambers and poured himself a cup of dark wine.
He stared at the flickering candlelight, his thoughts a whirl of calculation and instinct.
"A princess sent to bind the empire," he murmured. "Or to study it from within."
He glanced toward the balcony where the storm clouds were gathering again.
"If she's a spy," he said quietly, "I'll turn her into an ally. If she's an ally... I'll make her see what kind of empire she's marrying."
Far off in the eastern wing, Elmisa stood at her own window, watching lightning split the horizon.
Her eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
"He's not the fool they said he was," she whispered. "This will be... interesting."