DIH Chapter 2

(2) Like an Ominous Spell (2)

 

Heraith sat with a bored expression, listening to his vassals’ reports.

“Rascal’s invasion has put Count Snow’s northern territory on the brink of collapse.”

“That can’t be. Snow wouldn’t fall so easily.”

“This time, Rascal seems to have invaded with full force. Though they managed to fend him off, Snow suffered heavy losses. Owen and Osborn have joined forces to launch an attack.”

Owen and Osborn.

Hearing those names, Heraith furrowed his brows.

The northern region was divided among three noble houses: the Duchy of Owen, the County of Snow, and the County of Osborn. These three had maintained a long-standing alliance, ruling the north in harmony.

But now, at the first sign of weakness, the other two had joined hands to crush the third.

‘So much for friendship.’

Relaxing his expression, Heraith continued listening.

“Even if Owen and Osborn have allied, can they really defeat Snow? Of the three, Snow is the strongest. They have a large number of mages and, most importantly, the Thunder Emperor of the Perpetual Snow.”

“That’s true, but Snow took severe damage from the war with Rascal. No matter how powerful the Thunder Emperor is, he/she isn’t limitless. Owen and Osborn wouldn’t have moved unless they were certain. Or… maybe the rumors are true, and the Thunder Emperor doesn’t actually exist.”

“If Snow falls and Owen and Osborn split the north between them, things will be chaotic for a while. Snow has been keeping the northern monsters at bay.”

“We can only hope Owen and Osborn can handle even half of what Snow did.”

Heraith doubted they could. But he didn’t bother pointing it out.

If Snow lost this war, the north would soon become overrun with monsters. Owen and Osborn lacked the strength to hold the line.

‘They must know this. Why would they make such a foolish choice? Is it because of the magic stones?’

As these thoughts ran through his mind, the meeting ended. As always, it had been largely unproductive.

Heraith remained seated in silence, prompting the hesitant vassals to linger. Annoyed, he waved them away before crossing his arms.

‘Without Snow, the north will collapse within two years. That means I’ll have to lead more frequent subjugation campaigns. Should I take another imperial consort to keep things in check before then?’

Filling the vacant empress’s position was an option, but the empress was too close to the emperor.

And proximity bred dangerous ambitions like poisoning his drink or sneaking into his chambers to stab him in his sleep.

The empress had to be chosen carefully.

She couldn’t be someone who would fall for the Dowager Empress’s sweet whispers and take up a dagger. Nor could she be so naïve as to wander around unguarded and end up with her throat slit.

For now, increasing the number of imperial consorts was the simplest solution. Unlike an empress, a consort couldn’t enter his chambers without explicit permission meaning no assassination attempts in his bed.

Some criticized him for reviving the abolished consort system. But what did it matter? People already called him a wife-killer.

Besides, past emperors had done the same in secret, taking lovers into the palace while keeping up appearances.

From these relationships, five imperial princes had been born.

Most of whom had died by Heraith’s hand.

“But if I leave the empress’s seat empty for too long, the Dowager Empress will start meddling with the consorts.”

So far, they had remained safe because of the empress’s presence.

Sitting on the highest throne of womanhood in the empire, she unknowingly shielded the consorts beneath her.

Heraith left the council chamber and headed for his quarters. With his important duties done for the day, he planned to rest briefly before visiting the training grounds.

As he absentmindedly opened the door to his bedroom, he tensed.

The air had changed.

Silently, he reached for the concealed blade hidden in his sleeve.

Then, despite the windows being shut, the curtains fluttered, revealing a hooded figure cloaked in black.

There was no killing intent.

Even so, Heraith remained wary.

Someone had infiltrated the emperor’s chambers.

Their power was unknown.

“I beg your pardon for sneaking in to see Your Majesty. Please forgive me.”

A woman’s voice—unexpected.

Kneeling before him, she bowed deeply, as if offering her neck for Heraith’s judgment.

There was still no killing intent, nor did she appear to be carrying any weapons. Heraith studied her small frame before speaking.

“How did you get in?”

“I know a little magic.”

“A little magic,” he echoed.

That was impossible.

The imperial palace was guarded by powerful mages, and the emperor’s chambers were layered with protective spells—strengthened even further after Heraith had nearly been killed by his former empress.

To break through those defenses undetected, she had to be highly skilled.

“Why have you come?”

Despite her small stature, her voice was firm. Intrigued, Heraith decided to humor her.

“Your name?”

“Eleanor of House Snow.”

“Ha!”

Just moments ago, he had discussed House Snow in the council chamber, and now one of its key figures had appeared before him.

If he recalled correctly, Count Snow had a beloved daughter.

“I’ll overlook your intrusion. Stand. But if your request displeases me, you will die here.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you for granting me this chance.”

Eleanor rose slowly and pushed back her hood.

Silver hair, radiant like the moon.

Pale skin, befitting a northerner.

Eyes, a peculiar shade of lavender, striking and unreadable.

Heraith sat first, gesturing with his chin for her to take a seat across from him.

He observed her closely.

Her face was delicate, doll-like, but her gaze was heavy.

Her posture was straight, her hands and face bore faint scars.

‘I assumed she was a mage, but she’s a warrior.’

Not a typical noble lady.

The faint scar on her cheek was likely from a monster’s claws.

Her fingers and palms were no doubt calloused from wielding a sword.

“So, why have you come?”

“War has come to Snow’s lands. After suffering heavy losses against Rascal, we were ambushed by Owen and Osborn. We are on the brink of collapse.”

“I recall leaving territorial disputes to their own devices. I have no interest in meddling in your war.”

“I understand. What I ask of Your Majesty is…”

Her downcast eyes lifted, locking onto his.

Steady. Resolute.

“I wish to take the vacant position of Empress.”

“Ha!”

Heraith let out a short laugh, but Eleanore did not relax.

His eyes did not smile.

Instead, they gleamed with cold, murderous intent.

He was a man cloaked in darkness.

His pale skin was ghostly, his black hair and eyes like the abyss itself.

His towering height and broad shoulders exuded an oppressive aura.

And now, shadows were seeping from him—an eerie energy, similar to a monster’s yet distinctly different.

Like a rising tide, it coiled around Eleanor’s ankles.

The moment it touched her, her breath caught.

But she did not scream.

She did not recoil.

She simply sat, waiting for him to withdraw his power.

The darkness crept higher, over her calves, her thighs, her waist, her chest until it hovered near her throat.

Then, in an instant, it dissipated.

Only then did she gasp for breath.

Watching her with interest, Heraith finally spoke.

“Judging by your reaction, I suppose you really are human.”

She had known he was a man of suspicion, but to doubt her very species?

“Did the news of my third empress’s death not reach the north?”

“It did. That is why I am here.”

“Ah, I see. But you don’t seem to be aiming for a consort’s position.”

“If I become Empress, House Snow can offer much to Your Majesty.”

Swish!

A dagger suddenly flew toward her.

Eleanor tilted her head slightly just enough to dodge.

Had she remained still, the blade would have pierced her cheek.

Instead, it sliced through a lock of her silver hair, which fluttered to the floor.