Chapter 458: Chapter-458
The old Marquis’s booming laugh returned instantly, the oppressive aura vanishing from the air as if it had never been there. "Hahaha! You’re right, Seera! Why waste breath on a dog that barks at its own shadow? Let’s get to our seats."
Normally, no one would dare to utter such inflammatory words within the walls of the Imperial Palace. Yet, the old Marquis had spoken them without a single flicker of worry or fear, leaving Heena genuinely impressed. At first, she thought it was simply because her grandparents possessed overwhelming personal power, or perhaps because they fiercely refused to see her wronged by anyone.
What Heena did not realize, however, was that the nobility in this room weren’t just terrified of the old man standing beside her—they were utterly paralyzed by his wife.
Her lovely, elegant grandmother, whom Heena assumed merely managed the domestic affairs of the Marcuset estate, was the true, terrifying power behind the legend. If the old Marquis was the unstoppable blade on the battlefield, his wife was the master strategist, the minister, and the silent chancellor all rolled into one. For anyone who dared to touch her husband or her family, she was a ruthless lioness ready to tear them to pieces. It was only in recent years that she had grown quiet, but the capital had never forgotten just how mad that woman could be.
The seasoned nobles still remembered a banquet held years ago, celebrating the Marquis’s victory in his seventh major campaign. A prominent nobleman had made a mocking joke at the Marquis’s expense, and the hall had laughed it off as lighthearted banter. The very next morning, that nobleman’s body was found bloated in a ditch, and his entire house was systematically dismantled within days.
The grandmother hadn’t even bothered to hide her handiwork. On the day the nobleman died, she threw a lavish banquet of her own, standing in the center of the hall to declare to the high society vipers: ’"If any pestering dog dares to even look at my family, I will bite them away."’
From that day on, a gruesome rule was established in the empire: touch a Marcuset, and you either met a bloody end, or your darkest crimes and scandals were suddenly dragged into the imperial light, destroying your reputation forever. In their youth, the grandparents had earned a notorious title across the lands: ’The Crazy Couple’. It was only after their retirement, when their far more manageable and easily manipulated son took the reins of the estate, that the nobility finally breathed a sigh of relief and began to take the family lightly again. But seeing the old Marquis tonight, the elders in the crowd realized the monsters had never truly gone away.
’Ding!’ The System’s voice flickered sharply in her mind, breaking her train of thought. ’[Host, they are here. Brace yourself, the heavy hitters have arrived.]’
The massive, gilded doors at the head of the Grand Mirror Hall swung open with a deafening groan. First came the elite Imperial Knights, stepping in a flawless, bone-chillingly synchronized rhythm, their silver armor gleaming under the massive crystal chandeliers. Directly behind them walked the monarchs. The Emperor and Empress practically glided into the room, draped in magnificent golden robes woven with intricate gold-wire designs that practically blinded the onlookers. On their heads sat the ultimate symbols of absolute tyranny: the Empress wore a shimmering, razor-sharp tiara, while the Emperor bore a massive, heavy crown heavily encrusted with blood-red rubies and priceless gems.
And then came the real circus.
Trailing behind the monarchs was an absurdly long, exhausting procession of their offspring—eighteen princes in total, marching in strict, agonizing order of birth. They looked less like siblings and more like rival gang leaders forced to wear matching silk.
Looking at the endless parade of royal sons, Heena couldn’t help but mentally scoff. ’’God, these people clearly lack electronics and modern entertainment,’’ she thought, her inner monologue dripping with pure amusement. ’’They have absolutely nothing better to do at night, so they just produce a minor army of children. All of this just to watch them violently butcher each other for the inheritance when the old man finally kicks the bucket. Beautiful. Truly peak entertainment.’’
The second the Emperor’s heavy boot crossed the threshold, the atmosphere shifted from tense to completely suffocating. The entire hall dropped like a house of cards. Hundreds of prideful nobles, seasoned warlords, and elite court politicians instantly dropped to their knees, slamming their foreheads directly against the cold, polished marble floor in absolute, shivering submission.
But the old Marquis didn’t play by their rules.
He merely dropped into a disciplined, arrogant half-knee position, keeping his chest broad and his head held high—a supreme privilege carved out by decades of dripping battlefield blood, reserved only for the living legends of the empire.
Heena instinctively began to lower herself into a full kneel alongside the rest of the younger generation, expecting to play the part of the respectful debutante. But just as her knee was about to hit the marble, her grandfather’s heavy, calloused hand gripped her shoulder like a vice, anchoring her firmly in a matching half-knee stance.
"You are a General of the Empire now," the old Marquis muttered in a low, gravelly whisper that barely carried over the rustle of royal silks. "Generals do not press their faces into the dirt for anyone. Keep your head up, Seera."
Heena was momentarily dumbfounded, her phoenix eyes widening slightly. ’’A General?’’ A spark of dark, chaotic amusement instantly flared in her chest. Talk about a massive power move. If the fragile noble fathers of the capital could hand out lieutenant titles to their useless, pampered sons like candy, then the legendary Marquis of the Marcuset family could certainly appoint his battle-tested, monster-slaying granddaughter straight to the high command.
Recovering her composure in a split second, Heena smoothly placed her right hand firmly over her heart. Her bloody-red and black robes shifted with dangerous grace as she locked eyes with the royal procession, standing proudly as the only young woman in the entire hall who refused to bow her head.
"Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empress!"
The collective, thunderous roar of hundreds of voices slammed against the high crystal ceilings, shaking the very foundations of the hall. The Imperial Banquet had officially begun, and as Heena’s sharp gaze locked onto the frail mask of the Seventh Prince approaching the royal table, she knew the chessboard was finally set.
The Emperor took his seat first, settling his massive frame onto the grand throne with a slow, heavy deliberateness. The Empress sat beside him, and ’damn’, there was a visible, crushing reason why these two were called the rulers of the land. Just looking at the sheer aura radiating from the Imperial couple was enough to make a normal person’s skin shiver.
The Emperor’s cold, calculating eyes slowly swept across his kneeling subjects, assessing the hierarchy layout of his court at a single glance.
First, his gaze flicked over the traditional high nobles—the counts, marquises, and their pampered families. They were all flat on their knees, their heads pressed entirely against the cold marble floor in total submission.
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