The grand hall of the imperial palace was vast and opulent, a stark contrast to the grim scene unfolding within its walls. Guards in gleaming armor dragged a young man, his once fine clothes now tattered and stained, across the polished marble floor. The echoes of their heavy footsteps reverberated off the towering columns and high, vaulted ceiling.

At the far end of the hall, on a raised dais, sat Emperor William. Clad in dark, intricately embroidered robes, he exuded an aura of cold authority. His eyes, as icy as the northern winds, bore into the young prince as he was shoved to his knees before the throne.

The prince, bruised and bloodied but unbroken, lifted his gaze defiantly to meet the emperor's. William's lips curled into a cruel smile as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his chin

"Ah, the last remnant of a fallen dynasty," William began, his voice a chilling blend of amusement and menace.

"Prince Aric," the emperor's voice was a low, menacing rumble, filled with mocking amusement. "Or should I say, Slave Aric?"