Once renowned as the Gracia Empire, the Gracia Kingdom governed nearly all kingdoms in the continent's eastern region. However, the Thousand Year War was not kind to it, as it lost its great powerhouses and wealth. As a result, its strength dropped to the same footing as the kingdoms it governed. This resulting civil war ultimately shattered it into small kingdoms.
One would still see traces of the fallen empire's grandeur throughout these small kingdoms, embedded in their culture and architecture, even if these kingdoms didn't acknowledge it. But the same could not be said about the Gracia Kingdom.
The Gracia Empire used to be one of the three strongest Empires on the continent, mainly due to its most fertile and resource-rich land, and above all, the Faith of Solis was headquartered there.
To this day, the kingdom's only aspiration is to rise and reclaim its lost territories once again and ultimately bring forth its glorious past.
…
'Umh… that was one deadly nap. Nightmares of that dark pool of white snakes are still there. But where am I?'
To little Sylvester, sleeping was like dropping dead for hours. But, these long naps gave him another headache; they scared him when he woke up. Being an ex-spy, it used to be his priority never to let the situation go out of control. He always tried to interpret information and deduce things from the behaviours of the people around him.
But as fate would have it, he had no idea where he was. The last thing he recalled was sleeping in Xavia's lap as the carriage headed for a city.
Now he sat on an unknown woman's lap, held tight and close to her ample, soft breasts. She had golden blonde hair, grey eyes, smooth skin, and tons of makeup. Her wrinkles revealed her age to be around forty, but they only added more beauty to her smile.
'Wait! This isn't my mother! Where am I? Where is she!?'
"Aw… look at you, so small and beautiful. Look, our hair colour matches." The woman treated him like one would treat a puppy. He didn't heed her and looked around.
Quickly, he realised where he was. It was some sort of a dining hall.
There was a long table on whose sides people were sitting, from old to young. The woman on whose lap he was, was seated at one end, on her more prominent and luxurious chair, which revealed a lot more about her standing in the room.
The place belonged to someone wealthy, as the hall looked similar to a noble house during the renaissance. Colourful paintings and beautiful vases decorated the hall to the brim. There was shining gold all around, from the cutlery to the chandelier on the ceiling.
Thankfully, he also found Xavia sitting second to the blonde woman's right. The first was the Inquisitor High Lord. One more peculiar thing was that everyone else had grey eyes and blonde hair besides his mother and the Inquisitor High Lord.
"Ah, such a curious child. Dear God's Favoured, I am Empress Rexine Gracia of the Gracia Kingdom. You may call me Grandma Rex if you want," She chimed so lovingly that Sylvester felt she was his family for a second. But then his senses prevailed, and he noted the little details.
First, he had to lick his lips a few times as he suddenly felt a strange taste and smell in his mouth. His tongue felt sour and salty, while his nose noticed a sweet rosy aroma. It was odd yet familiar. Ever since he was born, he would randomly sense these weird smells and tastes.
'Let's see. Glaring eyes, I can feel the fastened heartbeat and how her cheeks contract every time…' She was feeling envious; that was all he could crudely guess.
It was not too hard to guess why. Sylvester was the freshly proclaimed God's Favoured, and if this status was as significant as how pretentious it sounded, then this 'Empress', in all likelihood, was cursing her luck for not finding him first.
"That shall be sufficient, Empress. The blessed child needs respite," The Inquisitor High Lord was prompt to take him away and let him feel warm on his lap, cladding him with his drape.
Slowly, the hall began to go empty. The neatly dressed servants took the plates. Then, finally, only the Empress, the Inquisitor High Lord and Xavia remained. But, for some reason, the Empress kept staring at Xavia.
The big man noticed. "Do not heed her, Empress Rexine. She's merely here for the child. She is one of our kind. We are all joined by the church, by grace, and by the Holy Solis' faith. So please speak your mind."
The sharp sound of the chair scraping against the floor alerted Sylvester. He knew this behaviour. The people in the room were about to discuss something important.
The Empress folded her arms. Her persona of an old, wise, beautiful queen disappeared the next moment as her face contorted into an ever-present sneer.
"Lord Inquisitor, the last time we met, you assured me that you would discuss my matter with the Holy Father. Yet, I have not heard anything in three months."
"Such matters take time, Empress. The devil takes a hand in what is done in haste. And, the Supreme Pontiff must also think about the whole continent and the peace treaty with the filthy heathens of the East."
"Do not! Please do not call me Empress! This pathetic title! It's hollow! The truth is that there is no Gracia Empire left. It broke into pieces and…." She babbled to show her fit of anger and the increasing frustration.
Sylvester felt an emotional flare-up in Inquisitor High Lord. He could feel it from the lap, the way man's muscles had tensed, and he could hear the churning sound of the leather gloves on his clenched fist. Lord Inquisitor was enraged by the Empress's actions.
Unaware of this, the Empress revealed her thoughts.
"Don't you forget! Fighting for the church was what made us lose wealth and our powerhouses. The weakening and the eventual breakdown of Gracia Empire was yo-"
Her words instantly came to a halt as fear became apparent on her face. Her body shivered as her eyes remained locked on the Inquisitor High Lord's visor.
She quickly stood up, dropped to her knees with a thud, and clapped her hands together. "I-I apologise for the transgression, my Lord. I am a devoted servant of the faith. May the light enlighten our paths and nourish our generations!"
"Amen," The man stood up. He used his cane to walk closer to the Empress, or Queen. She dared not to look up at his face anymore.
"Palm on the floor." His words carried no emotion. It was a command she could only comply with.
Without any squeal or words, she extended her right-hand palm and placed it on the floor.
"Aaargh!"
She cried in pain and regret. The Inquisitor High Lord put his sabaton (metal boot) on her palm, pressing it with enough force to produce the cracking of bones breaking. Empress Gracia's tears fell, mourning her earlier meltdown.
"Look me in the eyes," he commanded.
His face was entirely covered with a metal-plated mask, but through the small opening for the eyes, she could see the blood-red glow gripping her heart with fear. The eyes reminded her that he was the Third Guardian of Light, a man of Grand Wizard rank, a being powerful enough to vanquish cities with a wave of his hand.
"F-Forgive me… Lord Inquisitor, I was out of li-"
He cut her off. "Green Tribe—that's what everyone called your family five thousand years ago. Luther Vas Hermington, the first pope, graced you with his aid. Then, for the same grace, you named yourself the Gracia family. You need to be reminded of history, child, for the ignorant ones are doomed to repeat the mistakes of old."
Crack!—Her wrist broke from his weight, but she didn't shriek, albeit in extreme pain.
"Merely a few days ago, I excommunicated and eradicated the ruling family of Deserte village for their sacrilege. I wish not to make that of a kingdom, 'Empress' Gracia. May you have a good night's sleep and ample time to reconsider your thoughts."
He walked away with his cane making menacing steps on the tiled floor. Each time it touched the floor, the Empress' heart pounded in fear. She wondered if this one would be a move that would uproot her entire imperial city. Because she knew the Third Guardian was known not to show pity.
Yet, nothing occurred, and the steps slowly grew farther and farther, finally allowing her to take a breath and fall back on her rear. But by then, the adrenaline had lost effect as she felt soul-wrenching pain. "Aaaaaargh…! Healers! Call healers!"
Her right hand and fingers were like broken sticks, but it was something that the resident wizard could easily fix.
…
At the same time, outside, the Inquisitor High Lord showed Xavia the way to her room. She had managed to stay quiet despite what she saw this afternoon. But her mind was still feeling numb and lost.
"This is your room." He handed Sylvester to her. But it didn't end there. His hand tightly rested on Xavia's left shoulder, clenching it.
She looked at him in the eye sockets of the visor, and in them was the same look he gave the Queen, but she felt less panic-stricken.
Sylvester, simultaneously, sensed a familiar smell, one that he smelled the time that Chief Deserte tried to kill him—So bitter… His nose, tongue, and even his breathing felt bitter.
"What you witnessed there should not get out, child." His calm, commanding voice and raging aura didn't match. But she managed to nod. So he continued. "In the Faith of Solis, we call all female devotees Mothers. Are you a good mother, Mother Xavia?"
"Y-Yes, my Lord. I love Sylvester and care for him well—ah!" She felt the grip on her shoulder tighten, making her cry out in pain.
The man nodded and menacingly uttered, "That, I know very well. Yet, what about the faith, and the realm? Perhaps, one day if I discover someone uttering how this Queen shuddered under my foot, I shall see if you've been a good mother.
"Good night, child—may the light guide you—to the righteous paths."
MONKE HERE, STONE WHERE?
