As Mero walked through the sumptuous gardens of the palace, his gaze was irresistibly drawn to an intriguing scene unfolding before him. The late afternoon sun bathed the area in a golden light, casting long, dancing shadows on the impeccably maintained lawns. At the center of a shaded pavilion, whose white marble columns gleamed softly, stood the King of Qit. He was an imposing figure, his fur coat elegantly embroidered with gold and silver threads that caught the light with every movement. He was conversing with a mysterious figure whose back was turned to the group. This stranger wore a long coat in dark hues—a deep black mixed with indigo reflections—that contrasted sharply with the brilliant clarity of the marble and the multicolored flowers bordering the pavilion. His posture was straight, almost rigid, and although his face remained hidden, an undeniable aura emanated from him, like a silent force that commanded respect.

  Mero felt a slight tension rising within him. The gardens, with their rows of fragrant jasmines and murmuring fountains, were a haven of peace, but this scene seemed charged with a meaning he did not yet grasp. He glanced at Ki, who was leading the group. She slowed imperceptibly, and for a brief moment, her usually cheerful gaze hardened, as if she recognized something—or someone—in this encounter. Then, as quickly as she had tensed, she regained her mask of calm and confidence, a slight smile playing on her lips. Hélène, by her side, moved with her usual grace, her blue eyes scanning the scene with a cold, almost analytical precision. Behind them, Dorian and Eléonore exchanged a questioning look, their slightly furrowed brows betraying a curiosity tinged with apprehension. Mero, for his part, felt his pulse quicken. He had attended royal audiences before, but this one had a different flavor, a weight he could not ignore.

  The King of Qit finally noticed their presence. His eyes lit up with genuine warmth, and he smiled broadly before beckoning them to approach with a sweeping gesture of his hand. The stranger, however, did not move immediately. He finished his sentence in a low, measured voice, a barely audible murmur but imbued with natural authority, before slowly turning towards them. Mero held his breath, his fingers slightly tightening on the edge of his tunic. Who could inspire such restraint in a king as powerful as that of Qit?

  Suddenly, Ki broke the tension by rushing towards her father. Her light steps echoed on the polished marble tiles, and she threw herself into his arms with a joyful laugh that contrasted with the surrounding solemnity. The King of Qit burst into a warm, deep, and comforting laugh, and lifted her slightly off the ground in an embrace filled with affection. Their complicity was evident, a familial bond woven with trust and love that warmed Mero's heart despite the strangeness of the moment. Meanwhile, Hélène approached with an imperial gait, her fluid and confident movements directed towards the stranger who was now fully turned towards them.

  A collective shiver ran through the group as the man's face was revealed: it was the Emperor himself. Mero felt his stomach tighten, a wave of admiration mixed with intimidation overwhelming him. He had grown up with tales of the Emperor—his legendary wisdom, his iron grip, his gaze that could pierce souls—but seeing him in the flesh surpassed all his expectations. The Emperor had features marked by the years, deep wrinkles framing steely gray eyes that seemed to absorb everything. His presence was overwhelming, almost tangible, and yet there was an austere elegance in his bearing that commanded respect.

  A respectful silence settled over the group, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Hélène, never losing an ounce of her composure, approached the Emperor and slipped into his arms. The gesture was measured, almost formal, but it betrayed a rare intimacy between the princess and her grandfather. The Emperor briefly embraced her, a fleeting smile softening his stern features, before releasing her with calculated restraint. Mero watched the scene, fascinated by the dynamics between them—a contained tenderness beneath layers of protocol.

  Ki, still in her father's arms, laughed softly, but her sparkling eyes scanned the group with curiosity. Mero's companions exchanged incredulous looks. Dorian murmured something to Eléonore, who nodded, her eyes wide. This journey, which had seemed until then a simple visit, was taking an unexpected turn. Mero bowed deeply, imitated by his companions, a instinctive mark of respect in the face of the Emperor's grandeur. The latter's presence at the palace of Qit could not be a coincidence, and Mero felt a mix of excitement and apprehension rising within him.

  The King of Qit broke the silence with a benevolent smile. "The Emperor prefers to spend the summer in the north," he explained, his voice resonating with paternal warmth. "The heat of the south stifles him, and he finds a more temperate climate here. He has had this habit for several years now." He punctuated his words with a small laugh, adding, "My palace has become his summer residence, and I can only accept this honor, of course."

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  The Emperor, who until then had been observing the group with silent attention, spoke up. His voice was calm but firm, each word carefully weighed. "The air in the north is more invigorating," he said. "And the affairs of the Empire do not stop because of it." There was no trace of lightness in his tone, only a cold determination that reminded Mero of the tales of his inflexible reign. Even in this summer setting, far from the council chambers and battlefields, the Emperor remained a sovereign fully in control of his power.

  Hélène stood straight by his side, her regal bearing perfectly matched to her grandfather's. She seemed at home in this atmosphere of grandeur, her eyes shining with a quiet assurance. Ki, on the other hand, radiated a more spontaneous energy. She embraced her father again with childlike enthusiasm before turning to the group, a mischievous smile lighting up her face. "Well, now that you know we have a distinguished guest, enjoy the palace!" she said, her voice tinged with playfulness. "But beware, my father and my cousin-in-law will surely keep an eye on you."

  The Emperor did not react to this remark, his gaze methodically scanning each member of the group. When his eyes lingered on Mero, the latter felt a cold shiver run down his spine. What did the Emperor see in him? A young, still inexperienced prince? A potential ally? He lowered his head slightly, hoping to hide his discomfort.

  The group remained kneeling, waiting for a sign to rise. The silence stretched out, heavy, under the golden light filtering through the arches of the pavilion. The wind played with the flower petals, making them dance gently to the ground, but no one dared to move. Finally, the King of Qit exchanged a glance with the Emperor, then addressed them in a soft but firm tone. "Rise," he said. "You are here as guests and friends of my daughter."

  Mero straightened up slowly, his legs slightly numb from the prolonged position. His companions did the same, and he felt the weight of the moment's solemnity lift somewhat. Yet, the Emperor's presence continued to hang over them like an imposing shadow. He observed them for another moment, then slightly inclined his head—a discreet but significant gesture. "You have come a long way," he declared, his deep voice resonating in the air. "The journey must have been trying." It was not a question, but an observation, and Mero wondered if the Emperor was seeking to test their endurance or probe their intentions.

  Hélène, still by his side, sketched an enigmatic smile, as if savoring the tension that hung around them. Ki, however, seemed unaffected by the heavy atmosphere. She stepped forward with boundless energy and said, "Father, Your Majesty, allow me to show them around the palace and where they will be staying."

  The King of Qit nodded, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. "Of course," he replied. "But return this evening for the banquet. There is much to celebrate."

  Mero bowed his head in respect, imitated by his companions, before following Ki, who was already leading them through the sumptuous corridors of the palace. She guided them to the guest wing, a space that seemed straight out of a dream. The long corridors were lined with sculpted columns, their surfaces engraved with floral motifs and mythical creatures. Richly decorated salons opened on either side, their walls adorned with vibrant mosaics where the light danced in shimmering reflections. The ceilings, painted with celestial scenes and ancient legends, drew Mero's gaze upward, inviting him to imagine the stories they told. Underfoot, plush carpets muffled the sound of their steps, adding a touch of comfort to this intimidating grandeur.

  Ki led them to the chambers that had been assigned to them. Each one was a masterpiece in itself, fit for a prince or queen. The canopied beds, draped in richly hued silks—purple, emerald, gold—dominated the space, surrounded by finely crafted furniture with delicate details. Balconies opened onto the lush gardens or the endless northern plain, offering breathtaking views. Mero entered the chamber intended for him and stopped short at the window. The setting sun painted the horizon in a palette of pinks and oranges, while a shimmering river meandered in the distance. He took a deep breath, letting the fresh, fragrant air fill his lungs.

  "I hope this will suit you," Ki said with an amused smile, observing their reactions.

  Sven, usually indifferent to luxury, could not help but whistle as he examined the intricate carvings adorning the walls. "This is... impressive," he muttered, his fingers tracing a sculpture of a dragon coiled around a flower. Eléonore, more discreet, caressed the silk curtains with her fingertips, her eyes shining with wonder at their softness. Dorian, however, remained silent, his gaze lost in the view beyond the window, as if pondering much larger issues.

  Mandarine approached Mero and whispered in his ear, "I could get used to such comfort... but I still prefer my hammock on a ship." Her voice held a touch of humor, but Mero knew she was sincere. He smiled, sharing her sentiment. This palace, as splendid as it was, had a heaviness, an immobility that contrasted with the freedom of the open spaces they both knew.

  Ki clapped her hands to get their attention. "Rest a bit if you like," she said, her cheerful tone contrasting with the solemnity of the previous audience. "Tonight, the banquet will be grandiose, and tomorrow, I will show you something that few outsiders have had the honor of seeing."

  Eléonore, intrigued, looked up. "What is it?" she asked, her voice soft but curious.

  Ki merely smiled mysteriously, her eyes sparkling with mischief.