Jolthar hadn’t known, and the revelation surprised him. "I didn’t realize you’d been paying that much attention to individual soldiers."

"A good general pays attention to everyone under his command, but especially those who show exceptional capability," Remin replied.

"I’ve watched your career with interest since then—your transformation of Tekkora, your various conflicts, and now this situation in the capital. You’ve become exactly what I thought you would: extraordinarily capable and extraordinarily problematic."

They turned a corner in the path, bringing the Imperial Hall’s main entrance into full view. The building was even more imposing up close—towering columns, intricate carvings, and golden accents that caught and reflected light.

Remin stopped walking and turned to face Jolthar directly, his expression serious.

"I’m going to give you some advice, and I want you to listen carefully because it might save your life in the next hour.

You’re walking into that hall with all the power in the world at your disposal—the ability to transform into a dragon, to defeat hundreds of elite warriors, to match or exceed almost anyone in direct combat. That power is real, and it’s formidable, and everyone in that hall knows it now."

"But?" Jolthar prompted, sensing the warning that was coming.

"But power isn’t always the solution," Remin said firmly.

"Sometimes—often, in fact—it’s better to do the talking than the fighting. You’ve proven you can fight. Everyone knows that now. What you haven’t proven is whether you can navigate the politics, the diplomacy, the conversations that determine how power is actually used in an empire."

He placed a hand on Jolthar’s shoulder, the gesture almost fatherly despite their relatively recent connection.

"The Emperor is not your enemy, even if his ministers are. He’s a complicated man who values strength but also values stability, who respects capability but also expects respect in return. When you stand before him, remember that you’re not just representing yourself—you’re representing everyone who has stood with you, everyone who believes in what you’re trying to build in Tekkora, everyone who hopes the empire can be better than it currently is."

"You’re saying I should be diplomatic," Jolthar observed.

"I’m saying you should be smart," Remin corrected.

"Diplomacy isn’t weakness—it’s another form of strategy. You can win this encounter without fighting, but only if you’re willing to engage on terms other than pure combat.

Can you do that?"

Jolthar considered the question seriously, then nodded slowly.

"I can try. Though I make no promises if someone like Richardus pushes me too far."

"That’s all I ask—that you try," Remin said.

"Now come; it’s time to meet the Emperor."

*

The entrance to the Imperial Hall was guarded by warriors in ceremonial armor that was nevertheless clearly functional. They opened the massive doors as Remin and Jolthar approached, the sound echoing through the vast space beyond.

The hall was magnificent in a way that defied easy description. The ceiling soared overhead, easily a hundred feet high, painted with elaborate frescoes depicting the empire’s founding and the divine mandate that supposedly granted the Emperor his authority. Columns of polished marble lined both sides, each one carved with intricate details that must have taken master craftsmen years to complete.

The floor was a mosaic of precious stones arranged in patterns that created the imperial crest when viewed from above. Chandeliers holding hundreds of candles provided illumination that made the entire space glow with warm, golden light.

And at the far end of the hall, elevated on a dais of white marble, sat the throne.

But Jolthar’s attention was first drawn to the people assembled in the hall, arranged in careful positions that spoke to their status and role in what was about to unfold.

To one side stood the ministers—and there were many of them, representing various aspects of imperial governance.

Jolthar immediately spotted Minister Richardus, his face carefully neutral but his eyes showing barely contained satisfaction at seeing Jolthar brought before imperial judgment. He frowned at seeing General Remin who came with Jolthar and they had brought Jolthar without restraining him with chains.

Beside him stood Prime Minister Bahste Fatler, the thin, grey-haired man whose cunning was said to be legendary, his expression revealing nothing of his thoughts.

Justiciar Halvren was there as well, looking considerably worse for wear after the battle at Milan’s villa, his robes still showing signs of the devastation he had witnessed.

Behind the ministers, trying to remain inconspicuous but clearly present, stood Duke Hernais Rothgard and his son Varnik, both of them watching with barely concealed anticipation.

On the opposite side of the hall stood military officials—generals, commanders, and senior officers who represented the empire’s martial power. They watched Jolthar with professional assessment, evaluating him as both a potential asset and a potential threat.

Court officials occupied positions throughout the hall—advisors, chroniclers, representatives of various noble houses, and all the apparatus of imperial bureaucracy assembled to witness whatever was about to occur.

Milan and Andrion were directed to a position near the throne, close enough to be acknowledged as princes but far enough to indicate they were observers rather than participants in the proceedings.

Jolthar was brought to the center of the hall, directly before the throne, positioned where everyone could see him clearly.

Remin stood slightly behind him and to the right—close enough to intervene if necessary, but allowing Jolthar to face whatever came next on his own.

The throne itself was a masterwork of craftsmanship—carved from a single piece of white marble, inlaid with gold and precious gems, large enough to make whoever sat in it appear larger than life. And in it sat...

For now, the throne was empty.

The Emperor had not yet arrived, though his imminent appearance was clearly anticipated based on the tension in the hall.

The silence was profound, broken only by the sound of footsteps as final attendees took their positions and the quiet breathing of dozens of people waiting for imperial judgment to be rendered.

Jolthar stood calmly in the center of it all, aware that every eye was on him, that he represented either the greatest threat or the greatest opportunity the empire had encountered in years, depending on whose perspective one adopted.

This moment, standing before the assembled power of the empire, waiting to face the Emperor himself, would determine the course of everything that followed.

And despite Remin’s advice about diplomacy, despite the overwhelming show of imperial authority surrounding him, Jolthar felt no fear.

Only determination to face whatever came next on his own terms, as he always had.