‡Chapter Nineteen‡
THIRD PERSON
"Leave for now. I’ll summon you another day. Just let her be for a while—it’s not like she can do anything with those soldiers watching her."
The Emperor's voice carried no urgency, only the weight of finality. He stopped mid-step, his back still turned to the three prophets and the doctor, his presence casting a long, unwavering shadow.
"Yes, My Lord." The doctor bowed once more, retreating with careful steps, his head still lowered, as if even a single glance at the prophets might bring him misfortune.
The three prophets exchanged silent glances, speaking through narrowed eyes and the faintest shifts of expression.
"My Lord, if it is permissible, we wish to see the woman ourselves," Falk finally spoke, his voice calm yet cautious.
"We must witness her state with our own eyes."
The Emperor turned his head ever so slightly in their direction. Cold, lifeless eyes settled on them. His skin, unnaturally pale under the dim glow of the chamber, stretched over a form too large, too towering to be anything but imposing.
Then, he smiled. A forced thing. A gesture made not out of warmth but out of habit, or perhaps necessity.
"Do as you please," he said at last, his tone light, almost amused.
"But don’t provoke her too much… She’s not ready yet."
--
The three prophets walked through the dimly lit halls, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls, the weight of their conversation hanging heavy in the air. Each step seemed to carry the tension from the Emperor’s chamber, where their brief audience had ended in uncertainty and quiet frustration.
"Do you understand him, Falk?" Eberhard’s voice broke the silence, a low murmur of doubt.
"Why does he let her live? He knows the danger she poses."
Falk, usually the calmest of the three, didn’t answer right away. His brow furrowed as he paced slightly ahead, eyes lost in thought. The Emperor’s words echoed in his mind: “She’s not ready yet.” What did that mean? What was the Emperor waiting for?
“I don’t pretend to understand his every move,” Falk finally said, his voice quieter now.
"But I think... he sees something in her that we don't. She’s not just some rabid animal to be caged, not like the others."
Eberhard scoffed, shaking his head.
"That’s just it, though. She is a threat. And the Emperor lets her linger. If she’s a weapon, it’s only a matter of time before it turns against us. If he truly saw her as an asset, why not use her now?"
Friedrich, who had been silent until now, stopped walking and turned to face them. His pale eyes narrowed, as if he were considering something they hadn’t yet grasped.
"Perhaps it’s not about using her now, Eberhard," he said, his voice slow, deliberate.
"Maybe it’s about controlling her later. After all, the Emperor knows all too well the risks of making an enemy out of a force like that."
"Controlling her?" Eberhard muttered, skepticism creeping into his voice.
"You think he believes he can tame her? She’s already slipping through his fingers. She hears voices. She’s losing her mind. What’s left to control?"
"I don’t know," Falk replied, his tone quiet but firm.
"But I think there’s something more to this. Maybe the Emperor sees her as a... key. A key to something bigger. He doesn’t want to kill her—yet—because he’s waiting for something. Maybe he’s waiting for her to show him her true power, or for her to break completely. He’s always been patient. It’s in his nature."
Friedrich turned away, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Patient... or perhaps he’s afraid." He paused, letting the words linger in the air like a secret.
"Fear can drive even the greatest rulers. Fear of the unknown, fear of something they can't control, something they can’t predict."
Eberhard's eyes flicked to Friedrich, his gaze hardening.
"So you think the Emperor fears her?"
"I think he fears what might happen if he makes the wrong move. Letting her live is risky, but killing her too soon might bring consequences we aren’t prepared for." Friedrich’s voice grew darker, more uncertain.
"The Emperor is a man who plays the long game... But sometimes, even the most meticulous plans can slip through the cracks."
The three men fell silent, the weight of the conversation sinking in. They had always followed the Emperor's will unquestioningly, but now, for the first time, doubt lingered on their tongues. What was the Emperor truly planning? And more importantly, was his control over the situation as absolute as they had once believed?
Falk’s gaze hardened, his fists clenched at his sides. "We need to watch her. Closely. I don't trust this."
Eberhard nodded, his mind racing.
"Agreed. But we can't just watch her. We need answers. If the Emperor isn't going to act, then we will. We can’t let a weapon like that slip out of our hands."
Friedrich looked between them both, his expression unreadable.
"We can’t make a move too soon. Not unless we understand the Emperor's full plan."
Their steps grew quicker as they moved through the corridors, the tension between them thickening. The air felt heavier now, laden with uncertainty. They knew something was coming, but what, exactly, none of them could say.
One thing was clear, though: the Emperor’s motives were as elusive as the very power that coursed through Martina. And if they were to survive, they would have to find a way to understand it—or risk being consumed by it.
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