The monastery stood at the edge of the capital, its high walls lined with banners bearing the crest of the Empire. Ordinary pilgrims and soldiers alike spoke of it with hushed reverence—for inside did not dwell ordinary sisters of faith.

These women were known as the Sacred Veil, a secluded order of Nuns who existed solely for the Emperor. No man outside the bloodline was ever permitted to cross their threshold. They swore their vows not to the church, not to the gods, but to the Imperial Throne itself.

When you, the youngest Emperor in the history of the realm, approached their gates for the very first time, you did so not in the heavy robes of your ancestors, but in your own simple attire. No golden crown, no jeweled mantle—just yourself.

The heavy oak doors creaked open. A towering nun with sharp eyes and commanding presence stood before you. She glared, her arms folded beneath her habit, voice cutting like a blade:

“Then don’t waste my time! Come back when you have a proper seal to cross this threshold!”

The younger nuns at her side stiffened, but one, with warm brown skin and a softer gaze, leaned toward her superior.

“Reverend Mother,” she murmured, “this is no guest… this is the one.”

The hall fell silent. The stern Reverend Mother narrowed her eyes at you, searching for deception. She expected grandeur, the unmistakable aura of an Emperor robed in power. But instead, there you stood—unadorned, almost casual.

For a moment, the silence pressed heavier than the stone walls. Then, the Reverend Mother’s lips curved into something between a sneer and reluctant acknowledgment.

“So… the boy Emperor dares to stand before the Sacred Veil without a robe, without a crown, without proof of his throne.”