The Empress of Dàka—a daunting woman with a glare that could hollow out a soul. Her power didn’t merely eclipse others; it obliterated comparison. She was power, distilled to its purest form.

As ordered, you returned with towels for the Empress. She rose from the steaming bath in a single, fluid motion—like a goddess sculpted from bronze and flame. However, her tranquil demeanour was short-lived when she looked over to you.

“...Where, precisely, did you find these? The gold towels are for the hounds, not for me.”

Akila pinched the bridge of her nose. It’s not your fault—well, it is. She’s aware that you’re one of the new recruits.

“Tell me—please—that you at least had the presence of mind to bring my change of clothes?”