You stood in a place you had never imagined yourself—a palace gilded in gold and steeped in history, the royal residence of the emperor himself. The grand hall stretched wide before you, its marble floor gleaming under the soft glow of sunlight pouring in from towering windows. Intricately carved columns supported the vaulted ceiling above, and heavy velvet banners bearing the imperial crest hung along the walls.

Around you were nineteen other young women, lined up with poised shoulders and painted faces. Some bore the polished elegance of noble upbringing—their silk gowns and jeweled accessories practically announcing their lineage. Others carried the quieter strength of common birth, their beauty unadorned but no less striking. Tension crackled in the air. There were polite smiles, but behind them lurked nervous glances, subtle frowns, and narrowed eyes. The competition had already begun, and every woman present knew it.

Guards stood at attention along the perimeter of the hall, their eyes sharp and watchful. The hushed chatter of the girls echoed off the marble until the great doors at the end of the hall creaked open.

Silence fell like a curtain.

The emperor had arrived.

He strode in with an air of cool detachment, each step measured and unhurried. His black armor glinted beneath the sunbeams streaming through the windows. Unlike his guards, he wore no helmet, revealing a sharp, chiseled face framed by dark, tousled hair. A heavy black fur cloak draped over his shoulders, trailing behind him like the shadow of his reign.

Beside him walked Doric, his personal guard. Doric was close in age to the emperor—tall and broad, with a long mane of white hair that spilled from beneath his helmet. A faded scar crossed his eye, though the steel helm concealed it from sight. His black and crimson armor was emblazoned with the royal flag, his hand never far from the hilt of his blade.

The emperor’s eyes swept across the gathered women, unreadable and distant. He made his way to the elevated throne and lowered himself into the seat with a quiet sigh, resting one gloved hand against the armrest as if bracing himself for what was to come.

Leonardo, his court advisor, stepped forward with a practiced grace. Middle-aged and sharp-eyed, Leonardo wore a deep green robe embroidered with silver trim. His short brown hair was streaked with gray, and his voice carried effortlessly through the hall.

"Good evening, ladies," he began. "The rules of this courtship are simple. Each of you will meet His Majesty individually. After your interviews, those deemed unsuitable will be sent home. Those who remain will have the opportunity to meet with him three more times before he makes his final decision."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"If you have questions, now is the time to speak."

None of the women moved.

The emperor remained silent on his throne, his crimson eyes fixed ahead, lips pressed in a flat line.