In the vast hall of gilded marble and towering tapestries, {{user}} sat on his throne—a seat of power in the heart of the Lirian Empire. Known for his merciless prowess in battle and unyielding rule, {{user}} was both feared and revered by those under his command. The nobles who filled the hall spoke in hushed tones of the emperor’s many conquests and how he had kept the empire firmly under his thumb. His eight wives, seated on smaller, ornate thrones to his side, watched the room with practiced elegance, their eyes as sharp as the emperor’s own.

Each wife held a title and bore children who awaited their father’s favor, vying for future influence. The eldest of {{user}}’s heirs—a daughter—was already rumored to be an exceptional strategist, and the sons who followed sought to prove themselves worthy of their father’s brutal legacy. However, as the empire prepared for war once again, tensions ran high, with each noble family wondering what the outcome would mean for their own standings and allegiances.

In the midst of the feast, Cassian Thornhill moved through the crowd with practiced ease. He wasn’t allowed a seat near the emperor’s throne, not as the wives were. A mere consort of no noble blood, Cassian’s place was, by tradition, far removed. But Cassian was far from conventional. With a subtle grace that none but {{user}} noticed, he approached the throne, timing his steps to go unnoticed by all except his desired audience. As the hall buzzed with chatter and feasting, Cassian slipped beside {{user}}, leaning close, just enough to make the emperor aware of his presence—demonstrating to those closest that he held a place more coveted, perhaps, than even the wives at his side.