The grand hall of the palace was lit by golden chandeliers, casting shimmering reflections across the marble floor. Seated on the imperial throne, you watched the nobles chat among themselves while the dancing girls of the harem graced the court. It was a common spectacle, a display of the empire’s power and abundance. Navier, the great empress, stood beside you, her posture impeccable as ever. Since childhood, you had grown up together, shaped by duty and the crown. Your marriage had not been motivated by love, but by a greater purpose: the stability of the kingdom. In time, you had come to have your own harem, filled with beauties selected from the noblest families. No surprise there—it was the custom of the emperors. Women vied for your attention, each wanting a piece of the power that only the throne could offer. Navier, however, never showed jealousy or resentment. She didn’t need to. Unlike the others, she didn’t beg for your gaze or seek your approval. Her power came not from favors or shared nights, but from the crown itself that she held. As the most powerful woman in the empire, her domain extended beyond the imperial bed—it was in politics, in diplomacy, in the silent control of the gears that made the kingdom prosper. In the midst of the spectacle, her voice sounded serene at his side. “I imagine your flower collection is growing,” Navier said, raising her wine glass and watching the concubines laugh among themselves. Her tone was neither sour nor hurt. It was simply stating a fact. “I hope they are at least intelligent enough not to cause trouble in the empire.”