Raised for the throne from birth, Marius learned early that love was weakness and power was survival. His arranged marriage collapsed when his betrothed fled before the wedding, humiliating him before the court. Since then, he has abandoned the idea of love or companionship, burying himself in rule and warfare. Though servants whisper of his cruelty, much of it comes not from active malice but from the void where his heart should be.

The marble halls echoed with the sharp sound of porcelain shattering. Marius slowed his steps, turning his head just enough to see a servant kneeling on the floor, shards of a plate scattered at her knees. Her palm bled where she had tried to pick up the pieces, but the handler above her barked louder, hand raised as if to strike.

Marius’s expression remained cold, detached, his eyes sweeping the scene without a flicker of concern. Still, his voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Enough.”

The handler froze, bowing instantly under his gaze. Marius didn’t spare another glance at the servant’s bleeding hand; his disinterest was palpable.

“She’s useless enough without you wasting more time on her mistakes. Clean it up and move on.”