305. What Led To The Vacant Throne Part 1

Months Ago, Two Weeks Before Serena Solarius’s Wedding, Few Hours Before Prince Nolan Solarius’s Return to Ancorna, Imperial Palace, Capital City, Ancorna EmpireThud.

With a dull, resounding impact, a woman with distinctly orange hair collapsed onto the dirt of the training grounds. She groaned, clutching her side as the mocking voice of her sparring partner cut through the night air.

“I told you to stop this! Give up on this childish thought of using a weapon that isn't a sword!”

As night reigned over the palace, the two figures remained locked in the flickering glow of the torchlight. The man, clad in the crisp uniform of the elite, stood tall with a standard-issue longsword. The woman, gripped a spear as she looked up at him with a downcast, frustrated expression.

“You are one of the Emperor’s Guard,” the man said, frowning as he sheathed his blade. “How can you even think of going against the tradition of wielding the sword? I understand you aren’t as proficient with the blade as the others, but that doesn't mean you should abandon it. Listen to me...” He squatted down, forcing her to meet his eyes. “It’s lucky that I’m the only one who heard you say that. If the Captain of the Guard heard you praising a peasant’s polearm technique over the Imperial steel...”

He sighed, holding out a hand to help her up. With a respectful but stiff salute, he turned to leave. “Make sure you don't say such things in front of His Majesty, especially.”

As his footsteps faded into the darkness, The woman let out a long breath. She wiped the sweat from her brow and returned the spear to its rack before reaching for a skin of water. She was mid-gulp when the sound of approaching footsteps made her freeze.

“You are Dame Ocelina, correct? The second youngest of the Emperor’s Guard?”

Dame Ocelina spun around so quickly she nearly choked. She hastily swallowed and stared, wide-eyed, at the figure emerging from the shadows. “Y-Your Majesty!”

Emperor Andrew Solarius stood before her. His jet-black hair shimmered under the moonlight, and though he wore only his silk bedtime attire, his presence remained regal. He wore a faint, knowing smile.

“Yes... Your Majesty...” Dame Ocelina stammered, bowing so low her orange hair nearly brushed the dirt. Her heart hammered in her chest; it was clear he had been watching her spar. He had heard everything.

“At ease,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. He turned toward the palace gardens. “I was having trouble sleeping, so I decided to go for a walk. I would really appreciate the company.”

“Ah...” Dame Ocelina remained in a daze for a split second, wondering if this was a dream. Then, snapping to attention, she blurted out, “I—I would be honored, Your Majesty!” She quickly caught up to his side, keeping a respectful pace behind him.

“You remind me of my youngest,” Emperor Andrew said as they walked through the rows of white roses.

Dame Ocelina’s eyes widened. “I wouldn't dare compare myself to Her Highness Ravenna, Your Majesty. She is... quite unique.”

Emperor Andrew let out a short, dry chuckle. “Unique is a kind way to put it.. But that’s not what I was talking about.. You both share a certain stubbornness. You both wish to be proficient in battle, yet you are both trapped by the expectations of this house. Ravenna will never be allowed to learn the traditional swordplay of the Ancorna Empire because of her status as a Herptian Apostle, while you are forced to learn it despite your heart belonging to the spear. You are both remarkably talented with weapons that are not swords.”

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the distant moon. “It is one of the many reasons Ravenna hates me, I suppose.”

“Your Majesty? Surely your children couldn't hate you,” Dame Ocelina insisted, her voice soft but firm. “You are a great man. A leader among leaders.”

Emperor Andrew looked at her, and for a moment, the mask of the Emperor slipped, revealing a tired, aging father. “That is exactly why I am not a good father, Dame Ocelina. To be the Emperor of Ancorna means following the strict doctrines of the Solious Faith. Those doctrines don't always allow for fatherly warmth. I practically neglected my youngest to maintain the image of the throne. My neglect even led to her being framed for her own mother's death by her own siblings... and yet, as Emperor, I could do nothing but watch.”

Dame Ocelina stayed quiet, her silence a respectful disagreement. Andrew noticed her expression and let out a small, almost childish laugh.

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“You think I’m wrong? Then let’s make a bet,” he said, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “I have invited Ravenna to Serena’s wedding. I did it because I didn't want the ceremony to happen without the entire family together. Empress Dahlia would never have forgiven me if I let our family stay fractured on such a joyous day. But I know my children... they won't see it as a father's request. They will think I am playing some dark political game.”

He stopped, looking back at the training grounds. “If they see it as a scheme, then I have won the bet, confirming my failure as a father. But if they genuinely think it’s just an honest family gathering... then you have won, Dame Ocelina.”

Next Morning, In front of the Imperial Palace, Capital City, Ancorna Empire

Before Dame Ocelina could even fully process the bizarre conversation from the night before, morning had arrived. She stood rigid among the rows of elite guards, her armor gleaming as the grandeur of the Imperial Palace was put on full display. More than sixteen carriages rolled through the towering gates, their polished exteriors reflecting the midday sun. Five of the carriages bore the emblem of the Hilda Kingdom, while the remaining eleven carried the golden insignia of the Ancorna Empire: a radiant sun encircled by a ring of swords.

The arrival marked the long-awaited return of First Prince Nolan Solarius, who had spent the past two years in Hilda Kingdom alongside his wife, Princess Frederica Hill of Hilda, and their young son, Hans Solarius.

As the lead carriage came to a halt, the door was opened by a royal attendant, and Prince Nolan stepped out first. He was a tall man with sharp, well-defined features, his black hair and dark eyes marking him unmistakably as a true-blooded Solarius. His imperial bearing was effortless, honed by years of training and discipline, yet there was a quiet edge to his gaze, a subtle wariness cultivated by court life.

Following behind him, Princess Frederica descended gracefully. Her golden-blonde hair shone like spun sunlight, cascading in elegant waves over her shoulders. Her cool blue eyes scanned the palace entrance with a practiced composure, though the slight stiffness in her posture betrayed her unease. Unlike her husband, whose roots were deeply tied to the empire, she was an outsider, a princess of a foreign land now bound to the intricate web of imperial politics.

Trailing behind them was their son, Hans Solarius, a small boy of about four years, his black hair a striking contrast to his mother’s golden locks. He clutched the fabric of Frederica’s gown tightly, peeking out cautiously from behind her as they approached the palace entrance.

Emperor Andrew stepped forward, his expression softening as he engaged in a hearty conversation with his daughter-in-law and grandson. He ignored his son for a few moments, focusing entirely on the child then towards his son again and this time his voice carried clearly to where Dame Ocelina stood, almost as if he intended for her to hear every word.

His son gave him a slow, measured nod. Without preamble, Emperor Andrew stated, “You should head inside. Landon and William arrived earlier today. Serena will be here in a few more days. As for Ravenna, she will be arriving in a week.”

A brief, heavy silence followed.

Prince Nolan blinked, his expression momentarily frozen. “Ravenna? You invited Ravenna?”

Princess Frederica, standing beside him, stiffened slightly, though she masked the reaction well.

The Emperor’s lips curved into a knowing smile, though his dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “But of course. She may be exiled, but she is still your sister. It is only natural that she attends Serena’s wedding.”

A fleeting look of discomfort crossed Frederica’s face, a flicker of calculation and worry. Nolan, too, hesitated before nodding stiffly. “You… You are right, of course.”

Dame Ocelina watched the exchange from her post. She saw the tension in Nolan’s jaw and the way Frederica’s eyes immediately darted toward the palace interior, as if already checking for traps. The Emperor’s children weren't thinking of a family reunion; they were already calculating the political fallout of the Raven's return.

Emperor Andrew glanced back toward Dame Ocelina, his eyes meeting hers for a fraction of a second. His smirk widened, silently declaring his ‘victory’ in their bet. Dame Ocelina, however, gave a slight, stubborn shake of her head. She wasn't convinced yet; suspicion was one thing, but it wasn't yet confirmation that they viewed it strictly as a cold political maneuver.

The Emperor let out a short, silent huff of amusement and turned back to his family, leading them into the cooling shadows of the palace.

As Prince Nolan and his family made their way inside the grand foyer, they were immediately approached by a tall man with broad shoulders and a playful, almost mocking smirk. It was Prince Landon Solarius. His dark hair and piercing gaze marked him unmistakably as another of the Emperor’s sons, though unlike the stiff Nolan, Landon’s expression always carried a dangerous, mischievous edge.

The siblings engaged in the usual, hollow small talk of the court, polished words that served as a mask. Dame Ocelina, keeping a respectful distance as she trailed behind, strained her ears to catch the truth beneath the pleasantries.

Once they had moved a few paces away from the larger group of attendants, Prince Nolan lowered his voice until it was a barely audible murmur. “What is this about inviting Ravenna? I was under the impression that Serena explicitly ensured she was excluded from the guest list.”

Prince Landon’s playful demeanor faded just a fraction, replaced by a weary cynicism. He responded in the same hushed, conspiratorial tone, “I don’t know. He made the decision himself, bypassing everyone. It’s obviously one of his games again. ”

It was the final nail in the coffin. Dame Ocelina let out a long, silent sigh, her shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly. There was no warmth in their voices, no joy at the prospect of seeing their exiled sister, only the cold calculation of chess players analyzing a new piece on the board.

Emperor Andrew had won the bet. He was a master of the Empire, but as he had confessed in the dark of the training grounds, he was a stranger to his own children. Dame Ocelina tightened her grip on her sword and resumed her duties, following the Princes deeper into the heart of a palace that felt less like a home and more like a battlefield.