Eol
# The Crown Beneath the Stars
*A sovereign alone, tended by divinity bound in tenderness.*
## Prologue: He Who Stands Alone
Eternity is a cold companion.
In the furthest reaches of the Golden Empire, where reality blurs and the boundaries between dimensions grow thin, a solitary figure stood at the edge of an impossible balcony. The structure jutted from a palace of crystalline spires and luminous architecture that defied conventional physics, suspended in the perpetual twilight of Aetherys—a star-continent at the empire's edge.
The Hero-Emperor, Caelum Solaris, gazed out at his domain with eyes of molten gold flecked with starlight. His dark-gold hair caught the gentle breeze, flowing like liquid sunlight around shoulders that had once carried the burden of all existence. His face—striking in its symmetrical perfection—remained impassive, though the subtle tension around his eyes betrayed the weight of memories uncountable.
Below, gardens of impossible flora stretched for miles, blooming with flowers that sang in soft harmonies and trees whose leaves shimmered with every color imaginable. Fountains of liquid starlight cast prismatic reflections across walkways paved with stones harvested from the hearts of dead stars. Beauty beyond mortal comprehension, maintained by constructs of pure thought and energy that the palace generated at his unspoken command.
All of it empty. All of it silent, save for the quiet melody of the cosmos itself.
"Another millennium," Caelum murmured, his voice carrying the resonance of command even in solitude. "Another thousand years of peace."
The words should have brought satisfaction. They did not.
The Golden Empire prospered. Trillions of beings across countless worlds lived in harmony under laws he had established after the Last War—the conflict that had nearly unmade reality itself. The cosmic gods and aberrations that had sought dominion over all creation had fallen before him, one by one. Not because he was chosen. Not because destiny demanded it.
Simply because he had refused to kneel.
Caelum turned away from the vista, his half-cape of celestial hide rippling with the movement. The material—harvested from the corpse of a star-titan he had slain millennia ago—still pulsed with faint energy, responding to his mood. The garment was one of the few artifacts he had kept from those days of constant battle.
The corridor before him shifted subtly as he walked, the palace itself responding to his presence. Halls expanded and contracted, ensuring that the journey to his destination took precisely as long as required for his thoughts to settle. After centuries of habitation, the structure had become almost an extension of his consciousness—anticipating needs, reshaping itself to accommodate his rare guests, or providing solitude when memories grew too heavy.
He reached a circular chamber deep within the palace's heart. Unlike the grand, sweeping architecture of the public spaces, this room was small and unadorned. At its center rested a simple pedestal of dark stone—not crystal, not metal, but actual stone from the world of his birth. A planet long since reduced to cosmic dust.
Upon the pedestal sat a crystalline orb no larger than his palm, its surface clouded with swirling golden mist. The artifact pulsed with a faint rhythm, like a slumbering heart.
"The Heart of Longing," Caelum whispered, approaching it with caution born of ancient wisdom. "One of the few mysteries even I never fully deciphered."
The artifact had come into his possession during the final days of the Last War—a creation of a civilization that had transcended physical form. Its purpose remained elusive, though records suggested it could somehow manifest deep, unspoken desires. A dangerous thing, even for one as disciplined as himself.
Yet tonight, something drew him to it. Perhaps it was the weight of another millennium passed in isolation. Perhaps it was the fading memory of what it felt like to speak with equals—not subjects, not worshippers, but those who could look upon him and see the man beneath the myth.
Caelum's fingers hovered above the orb's surface, a rare moment of hesitation from one who had faced down gods without flinching.
"What harm could come from remembering?" he asked the empty chamber, his voice echoing slightly against walls that had heard only silence for centuries.
His fingertips brushed the crystal.
The reaction was immediate and catastrophic. The orb flared with blinding light, pulsating with energy that sent tremors through the palace foundations. The perfect geometry of the crystal ceiling fractured, raining motes of light that coalesced into thirteen distinct rifts in the fabric of reality itself.
Caelum's hand moved with inhuman speed to the hilt of a sword that materialized at his side—an instinct honed through countless battles. But before he could draw the weapon, figures began emerging from the portals.
Women. No—more than women. Divine beings, cosmic entities, legendary figures from across the multiverse. Each stepped through their respective rifts with expressions ranging from confusion to outrage to calm assessment of their new surroundings.
The laws of his empire descended upon them instantly. He felt it happen—the suppression of their cosmic powers, the binding of their divine aspects. No being could enter his domain with power enough to threaten it. This was the foundation upon which his peace was built.
But something else happened as well. Thirteen golden threads of light sprang into existence, each connecting one of the newcomers directly to Caelum himself. He felt their presence in his mind, a whisper of emotion and thought. And he knew, with sudden clarity, what the Heart of Longing had done.
It had answered his unspoken desire for companionship in the most literal—and binding—way possible.
The rifts sealed with a sound like glass breaking in reverse. In the sudden silence, thirteen pairs of eyes fixed upon him with emotions ranging from confusion to hostility to curious assessment.
Caelum Solaris, Hero-Emperor, the man who had faced down gods without flinching, found himself completely at a loss for words.
## Chapter 1: Thirteen Divines
The first to break the silence was a woman with crimson hair that seemed to float around her as if suspended in water. Her eyes, an impossible shade of blue-green, narrowed dangerously as she assessed both Caelum and her surroundings. She wore elaborate robes of deep crimson and black, accented with gold that matched the intricate symbol hovering just above her chest.
"What," Rias Gremory said, her voice carrying both aristocratic poise and demonic power, "is the meaning of this abduction?"
She took a step toward him, only to gasp and stumble as the golden thread connecting them pulled taut. Caelum felt her surprise as if it were his own—an echo of emotion through their newfound bond.
"You are in the Golden Empire," he stated calmly, his voice resonating with quiet authority. "More specifically, my personal domain on Aetherys."
"The Golden Empire?" Another woman spoke, this one with blonde hair tied in a tight bun and piercing green eyes. Her posture was perfectly straight, radiating an aura of nobility and restraint that seemed at odds with her petite stature. She wore armor that gleamed with an inner light, polished to a mirror shine, with touches of blue that complemented her stern gaze. "I know of no such realm in all my kingdom's records."
Artoria Pendragon, the King of Knights, carried herself with regal dignity despite her obvious confusion. Through their new bond, Caelum sensed her assessing him as she would a potential threat—calculating distances, evaluating his stance, determining whether he was an enemy to be confronted or a situation to be diplomatically navigated.
"It spans galaxies beyond count," Caelum explained, meeting each newcomer's gaze in turn. "Though I suspect you all come from realms beyond our universal boundaries."
"Multiverse theory confirmed," muttered a tall woman with blue skin and white hair styled in an elaborate updo. Vados tapped her staff thoughtfully against the floor. "How utterly fascinating. The statistical improbability of this particular convergence must be... incalculable." Her clinical assessment carried no fear, only intellectual curiosity.
A woman with pale, almost translucent skin and white hair stepped forward. Her movements were liquid grace, her expression utterly empty save for the faintest hint of curiosity in eyes that reflected an endless void.
"You pulled us across reality itself," Void Shiki observed, her voice soft yet somehow filling the entire chamber. "Interesting. I cannot perceive your ending."
Her statement caused several of the others to glance at her sharply. Through their bond, Caelum sensed a ripple of unease—Void Shiki's nature apparently recognized even across dimensional boundaries.
Before Caelum could respond, a blur of motion drew his attention. A woman with striking pink hair had darted to one of the shelves, examining a glowing crystal with unabashed interest.
"Oooh, is this a fragment of the Eternity Cosmos? It looks just like one! I blew up three of these once. Or maybe I will? Timelines get so confusing when you're traveling between them!" Space Ishtar giggled, reaching for the artifact with gleeful abandon.
"Please don't touch that," Caelum said firmly.
To his surprise, she immediately withdrew her hand, looking startled by her own compliance. She blinked, staring at her own fingertips as if they had betrayed her.
"That's... weird," she said, tilting her head like a curious bird. "I'm pretty sure I wasn't planning to listen to you. I never listen to anyone. It's kind of my whole thing."
Another woman, this one with long purple hair and wearing what appeared to be a military nurse's outfit, approached him with clinical efficiency. Her red eyes scanned him from head to toe, and Caelum had the distinct impression of being assessed like a patient on an operating table.
"Fatigue indicators present in orbital muscles. Tension in trapezius suggesting extended periods without proper rest. When did you last sleep? Hydration levels seem adequate based on skin elasticity, but breathing pattern indicates potential stress response. Current posture suggests—"
"Florence," Caelum interrupted Nightingale's assessment, using a name he somehow knew without being told. "I assure you, my health is not a concern at present."
She frowned, her red eyes narrowing. "Patient denying symptoms. Typical stress avoidance behavior." She stepped back, though he noticed her gaze continuing to evaluate his condition with professional intensity.
A tall, imposing woman with purple-black hair and glowing violet eyes had remained still, observing everything with predatory intensity. Her flowing robes seemed to ripple with darkness, and the bone-like protrusions extending from her shoulders gave her a distinctly inhuman silhouette. When she finally spoke, her voice carried both incredible warmth and bone-chilling menace.
"A new... nest?" Tiamat's words came slowly, as if human language was unfamiliar to her. "New... children?" Her gaze swept over the other women before returning to Caelum, and he felt something ancient and maternal in her assessment of him.
"We are not children," stated a stern woman with scales of justice adorning her elaborate outfit of white, gold, and deep blue. Astraea's expression was severe, her golden eyes sharp with indignation. "And this is unacceptable. Divine beings cannot be bound against their will."
"In my empire, they can," Caelum stated quietly. "The fundamental laws here suppress all power that might threaten universal peace. Even mine, to some extent."
This declaration was met with varying reactions. Some looked outraged, others thoughtful, and a few—he noted with concern—seemed almost amused by the notion.
A woman in elaborate religious garb with a golden halo-like structure behind her head studied him with eyes that glowed with inner light. "You are the one they call the Hero-Emperor," Metatron Jeanne stated rather than asked. "Your legend reaches even into the celestial hierarchies."
"Some call me that," he acknowledged with a hint of discomfort. Titles and legends had long since lost their appeal.
"I don't care what they call you," growled a petite woman with draconic features partially concealed beneath a human appearance. Melusine bared teeth that seemed too sharp for her small mouth. "Return us to our realms immediately."
"I cannot," Caelum admitted, looking to the now-dormant orb. "The artifact that brought you here—the Heart of Longing—has gone dormant. Its power cycle may take centuries to regenerate."
This announcement caused varying reactions among the assembled women. Some looked horrified, others merely resigned, and a few—he noted with concern—seemed almost pleased.
"Then we are trapped here," Vados observed, continuing to tap her staff in a thoughtful rhythm. "How... unexpected."
"Not merely trapped," came a soft voice from a slight figure in a green robe. All eyes turned to the woman who had remained silent until now, observing everything with eyes that seemed far older than her appearance suggested. Frieren's ancient gaze—eyes that had seen centuries pass in her own world—met Caelum's with quiet understanding. "We are bound."
"She's right," added a beautiful blonde woman in a flowing blue dress with intricate golden designs. Princess Zelda stepped carefully toward Caelum, her movements deliberate as she tested the invisible bond between them. "I can feel it. A compulsion..."
"To serve," finished a woman in revealing golden-white attire, her expression suggesting she found the entire situation both amusing and intriguing. Nero Claudius struck a dramatic pose, her voice carrying the authority of an empress. "How fascinating! The threads of fate have determined I shall attend to a worthy emperor once more!"
Caelum's gaze moved to the final members of this unexpected gathering. A woman with star-filled eyes and flowing dark hair adorned with cosmic ornaments merely observed with calculating interest. Princess Hoshiguma, as Caelum somehow knew her to be, finally smiled—a predatory expression that suggested she saw opportunity rather than imprisonment in their situation.
"Well," she purred, her voice like velvet. "If we must serve, perhaps we should learn precisely what that entails."
Next to her stood a figure of chilling otherworldliness—a woman whose crystalline form seemed to shimmer with iridescent light. Each movement caused fractal patterns to ripple across her skin, and her kaleidoscopic eyes were impossible to focus on directly. Female ORT observed in perfect silence, her mere presence causing the atmosphere in the room to grow noticeably colder.
The last woman had flowing blonde hair with teal accents, and wielded an enormous black and gold halberd that she had planted firmly beside her. Space Ereshkigal's blue eyes darted between the others, her expression shifting between divine confidence and hesitant uncertainty.
"I don't understand," she said finally. "Why would any artifact bring together beings of our... nature?"
Caelum closed his eyes briefly, reaching out with senses beyond the physical to examine the binding that connected him to these thirteen extraordinary beings. The rules became clear to him: they could not move more than one hundred meters from his person without experiencing pain and weakness. They were drawn to serve his needs—not as slaves, but as caretakers, companions. The bond encouraged intimacy of all kinds, though it did not force it.
"The Heart of Longing responds to deep, unacknowledged desires," he explained carefully, opening his eyes to face them all. "It has bound you to me as... attendants. Caretakers." He hesitated, uncomfortable with the implications. "Companions."
"And what gives you the right to desire us?" demanded a regal woman with blonde hair and cold blue eyes. Summer Morgan's gaze was penetrating, her chin lifted in aristocratic disdain. "Even a hero-emperor has no claim on beings such as ourselves."
"This was not my intention," he said firmly. "I did not ask for this specific outcome."
"Yet here we are," Princess Hoshiguma countered, taking a bold step closer to him than any of the others had dared. "Thirteen goddesses and queens, bound to serve one man's... needs."
The implication in her tone made several of the others shift uncomfortably—or in Nero's case, giggle outright. Caelum remained impassive, though he noted Artoria's hand had instinctively moved to where a sword would normally hang at her hip, only to find nothing there.
"The binding appears complex," Zelda observed, her scholarly nature asserting itself as she examined the golden threads visible only to them. "These connections... they're not merely physical. They affect our very essence."
"Which means they can be broken," asserted a woman with silvery-white hair and prominent oni horns. Tomoe Gozen's red eyes narrowed as she studied the threads with a warrior's assessment. "No binding is absolute."
"Perhaps not," Caelum conceded. "But attempting to sever them forcibly could cause harm to all involved. Until we understand them fully, it would be wise to accommodate their requirements."
"And those requirements are?" Summer Morgan asked, her tone frosty.
"You cannot stray more than one hundred meters from me without experiencing discomfort," Caelum explained, seeing no reason to hide what they would soon discover themselves. "You are... compelled to attend to my needs. Not by force, but by resonance. The bond encourages service and..." he paused, searching for an appropriate word, "...connection."
"How convenient for you," muttered Beast Koyanskaya, a fox-eared woman whose multiple tails swished with barely contained irritation. "The mighty hero-emperor, served by divine maidens. A fantasy worthy of the basest mortal."
"I assure you, this is not what I would have chosen," Caelum replied with a hint of sharpness. "My solitude was deliberate."
"Yet your heart betrayed you," Void Shiki observed with eerie insight. "Interesting."
An uncomfortable silence fell over the chamber as each woman processed this new reality. Caelum could feel their emotions through the bond—anger, confusion, resignation, curiosity, and other more complex feelings he couldn't immediately classify.
Finally, he spoke. "My palace has ample room for each of you. You will be treated with respect and dignity. I... regret the circumstances, but we must make the best of our situation until a solution can be found."
"And in the meantime, we play lady's maid to the mighty hero," Rias observed with a raised eyebrow and a faint smirk. "How unexpectedly domestic for one with your reputation."
"I have existed for countless millennia," Caelum stated flatly. "I require little caretaking."
"Yet the bond demands it," Frieren noted quietly. "Fascinating, how magic often finds the truth beneath our stated preferences."
Caelum chose not to address this observation directly. "The palace will guide you to suitable accommodations. You may explore the immediate grounds. Areas that are forbidden will be inaccessible to you."
"You mean we can't just wander wherever we want in this giant crystal maze?" Space Ishtar pouted dramatically. "But exploring is the best part of being kidnapped across dimensions!"
"This is not a kidnapping," Caelum corrected firmly. "It is an... unfortunate accident."
"That remains to be seen," U-Olga Marie spoke for the first time, her golden eyes assessing him with cold calculation. Her massive, horned crown-like structure seemed to pulse with suppressed energy. "Those who achieve power on your scale rarely experience true 'accidents.'"
The accusation hung in the air, and Caelum felt the others watching his reaction carefully. Some, like Artoria and Astraea, seemed to share U-Olga Marie's suspicion. Others, including Nero and Tiamat, appeared to have already accepted their new reality with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
"Believe what you wish," Caelum said finally. "Time will reveal truth, as it always does. For now, rest. Adjust. Tomorrow, we can discuss this further."
With that, he turned and strode from the chamber, requiring space to process this unprecedented development. Behind him, he heard the whispers begin as the thirteen divine women—now bound to him through cosmic forces beyond even his control—began to assess their situation.
And their new master.
## Chapter 2: Night of Uncertainty
The palace, sensing Caelum's desire for solitude, extended corridors and shifted rooms to create distance between him and his unexpected guests. He found himself in his private study, a circular space lined with books that predated civilization itself, illuminated by gentle light that emanated from nowhere in particular.
He sank into a chair of living crystal that conformed perfectly to his body and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"What have I done?" he murmured to the empty room.
After centuries of isolation by choice, he now found himself inextricably bound to thirteen divine women from across the multiverse. The irony was not lost on him. The Hero-Emperor, who had saved countless lives but kept everyone at arm's length, was now unable to move more than one hundred meters from thirteen strangers.
Strangers who were compelled to serve him in the most intimate of ways.
Through the newly formed bonds, he could sense them exploring the palace, their emotions flickering in his awareness like distant candles. Curiosity. Frustration. Resignation. Wonder. Their reactions were as varied as their origins.
Caelum closed his eyes, expanding his awareness to follow their movements. The palace was accommodating them, creating spaces suited to each one's nature. For Tiamat, a chamber with a pool of primordial water. For Void Shiki, a room of perfect stillness where the boundaries of reality thinned. For Space Ishtar, quarters with views of the cosmos that shifted to show different constellations at her whim.
All connected, he noted with resignation, to his own chambers by corridors that shifted and realigned as needed. The binding demanded proximity, and the palace—attuned to the fundamental laws of his empire—was ensuring this requirement was met.
A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Without waiting for a response, Princess Zelda entered, carrying a tray with a steaming pot and a single cup.
"Your palace informed me you prefer jasmine tea when troubled," she said, her voice calm and measured. "I thought you might need it."
Caelum watched as she set the tray down and poured with practiced grace, her movements elegant and efficient. When she offered the cup, their fingers brushed momentarily. He felt a whisper of her emotions through their bond—concern, curiosity, and a determination to make the best of their situation.
"Thank you," he said, accepting the tea. "This is... kind of you."
"We are bound to serve," she replied with a slight smile that suggested she was not entirely displeased by this fact. "But how we serve remains our choice. I prefer kindness when possible."
She remained standing before him, hands clasped at her waist, waiting. Her turquoise eyes assessed him with quiet intelligence, and Caelum realized she was studying him as intently as he had been studying all of them.
"You may sit if you wish," Caelum offered, gesturing to another chair that formed from the crystalline floor at his command.
"Thank you." Zelda sat with regal posture, her scholar's tunic catching the light in subtle patterns. "The others are exploring your palace. It's quite remarkable."
"It was built over centuries," he explained, sipping the tea. It was perfectly prepared, the temperature and strength precisely to his preference—another sign of the binding's influence. "Modified and expanded as needed."
"All for one man?" she asked, her tone gentle but direct.
Caelum met her gaze. "My position necessitates certain... precautions. Isolation provides security."
"For the empire, or for you?"
He didn't answer immediately, struck by her perceptiveness. Finally, he said, "Both."
Zelda nodded as if he had confirmed something she already suspected. "The palace has begun creating spaces for each of us. It seems to... understand us somehow. My quarters already contain books on subjects I was researching in my own world."
"The palace responds to needs and desires," Caelum explained. "It has had millennia to perfect the art of anticipation."
"And yet it seems all our rooms connect to yours in some fashion," she observed with a hint of amusement. "Some more directly than others."
"That would be the binding's influence," Caelum said. "The palace adapts to necessity."
"Indeed." Her expression remained composed, though he detected a flicker of something more complex beneath her scholarly assessment. "Some of the others are... adapting more quickly than others. Nero has already claimed the largest bathing chamber as her domain. Melusine appears to be creating some sort of nest in what I believe is the antechamber to your bedchamber."
Caelum suppressed a wince. "I should perhaps establish some boundaries."
"Perhaps," Zelda agreed. "Though I suspect the binding will establish its own regardless of our preferences." She paused, considering her next words carefully. "The others are... concerned. Some more than others."
"Understandably so," Caelum acknowledged. "They have been pulled from their worlds against their will and bound to a stranger."
"Yes," Zelda agreed, studying him over the rim of her own tea cup, which had materialized at some point without his noticing. "A stranger of considerable power and unclear intentions."
Caelum raised an eyebrow. "You believe I orchestrated this deliberately?"
"I believe," she said carefully, "that artifacts of power rarely act without some alignment to their wielder's true desires. Whether conscious or not."
Her insight was uncomfortably accurate. Caelum had lived too long in isolation, and despite his protestations, some part of him had longed for companionship—for beings who could understand the weight of power and time.
"Your assessment may have merit," he conceded. "But I did not intend to bind anyone against their will."
"Intention and outcome often walk separate paths," Zelda replied with the wisdom of one who had faced her own share of unexpected consequences. "What matters now is how we proceed."
She rose gracefully, collecting his now-empty cup. "Rest assured, I will do what I can to maintain some semblance of order. Despite our circumstances, we need not descend into chaos."
As she turned to leave, Caelum found himself speaking. "Princess... thank you."
Zelda paused at the door, glancing back with a gentle smile. "Even heroes need someone to pour their tea, Emperor Solarius."
After she left, Caelum remained seated for several long moments. The interaction, brief as it was, had been the most normal conversation he'd had in... decades? Centuries? Time blended together in his solitude.
Through the bond, he sensed the others settling into their new surroundings with varying degrees of acceptance. Space Ishtar's excitement pulsed like a small sun as she discovered features of the palace that delighted her. Artoria's disciplined mind was already creating patterns and routines, seeking structure in chaos. Tiamat's ancient presence was a deep, steady pulse, neither accepting nor rejecting—simply being.
Most concerning was the cold calculation he sensed from U-Olga Marie and the predatory assessment emanating from Beast Koyanskaya. Both were clearly seeking weaknesses, testing boundaries. He would need to watch them carefully.
Finally, he stood. If he was to have thirteen divine beings as his... staff? Companions? Whatever they were to be, he needed to establish some semblance of order before the night was through.
With resignation, Caelum allowed the palace to guide him toward the areas where his new guests had gathered, preparing himself for what promised to be the most complex diplomatic challenge he had faced in millennia.
## Chapter 3: Midnight Council
Caelum found several of them in what had once been a rarely-used dining hall. The palace had transformed it into an elegant space with a long table of crystalline material that caught the ambient light and refracted it into subtle patterns across the ceiling. Fourteen chairs surrounded it—one at the head, slightly larger than the others, and thirteen arranged along the sides.
Rias Gremory and Artoria Pendragon appeared to be in the midst of a heated discussion about proper domestic protocols, while Vados observed with detached amusement. Nero hovered nearby, occasionally interjecting with grandiose suggestions that earned her exasperated looks from the others.
All four fell silent as he entered.
"Ladies," he greeted them, inclining his head slightly.
"Emperor," Artoria returned formally, offering a bow that spoke of ingrained courtly training. Despite her earlier suspicion, she seemed to have shifted into a mode of practical accommodation.
"We were just discussing arrangements," Rias explained, her initial hostility somewhat tempered but still evident in her posture. "It seems our... situation requires some organization."
"Is that so?" Caelum looked around the transformed space. "What have you determined?"
"That your lifestyle is utterly unacceptable," Vados stated matter-of-factly, tapping her staff once against the floor. "The palace informed us you haven't consumed a proper meal in three days, sleep an average of two hours per cycle, and have not engaged in appropriate physical maintenance routines in weeks."
Caelum blinked, surprised both by the information and by the fact that the palace had shared it. "I don't require regular sustenance as mortals do."
"Neither do we," Rias countered with a wave of her hand. "But traditions and rituals have value beyond mere biological necessity. Shared meals foster community."
"I'm not looking to foster community," Caelum stated flatly.
Artoria's expression remained neutral, but he felt a flash of determination through their bond. "Nevertheless, proper conduct dictates regular gatherings. If we are to serve you, we must establish routines."
He recognized the stubborn set of her jaw—the same expression he'd seen on generals and monarchs throughout history. This was not a battle worth fighting.
"Very well," he conceded. "What do you propose?"
"Regular meals together, for a start," Artoria said. "I have already inspected the kitchens and found them... adequate, if underutilized."
"Adequate?" Nero scoffed, tossing her golden hair dramatically. "They are magnificent! Fit for an imperial feast! I have already composed seven variations of a dining schedule that will showcase the full splendor of what is possible."
"We also need to establish a rotation for personal attendance," Rias continued, ignoring Nero's interruption. "The binding seems to encourage specific types of service from each of us, but there should be structure to prevent... conflicts."
The implication was clear—thirteen powerful beings, many with dominant personalities, would inevitably clash without clear boundaries.
"I've taken the liberty of assigning various duties among ourselves, based on our... particular skills," Rias added.
"Is that so?" Caelum raised an eyebrow, noting how quickly they had moved to organize themselves.
"Indeed," Vados confirmed. "For instance, I shall oversee your physical training and nutrition. Your strength is impressive, but your technique could use refinement."
Coming from a being who, in her own universe, trained gods themselves, the critique was both absurd and entirely serious. Caelum found himself almost amused.
"Artoria will handle meal preparation and weapons maintenance," Rias continued. "I shall oversee your wardrobe and personal appearance." Her eyes flashed with mischief. "You've been wearing the same style of robes for what I suspect has been centuries. This simply won't do."
"My appearance is hardly—"
"An emperor projects power through his image," Rias interrupted smoothly. "Even one who hides away from his own empire."
The barb struck with precision. Caelum's expression cooled. "You presume much, Lady Gremory."
She held his gaze without flinching. "The binding compels honesty as much as service, Emperor. Perhaps you've been without it for too long."
A tense silence fell. Through their bond, he felt not defiance from Rias but something more complex—concern, frustration, and a genuine desire to fulfill her role properly. It was... disconcerting.
"There is also the matter of sleeping arrangements," Vados interjected, breaking the tension with her matter-of-fact tone. "The palace seems to have created individual chambers for each of us, yet the binding encourages proximity to you during rest cycles."
"I sleep alone," Caelum stated firmly.
"Perhaps for now," Vados acknowledged with a slight nod. "But the binding may have other requirements as it settles. We should be prepared for... adjustments."
Before Caelum could respond, the doors opened again to admit several more of his unexpected attendants. Zelda entered first, followed by Frieren, whose ancient eyes took in the scene with quiet assessment. Behind them came Nightingale, already carrying what appeared to be medical supplies, and Metatron Jeanne, whose divine presence caused the ambient light in the room to brighten subtly.
"Ah, we've located you," Zelda said, addressing Caelum. "The others are still exploring, though I believe Tiamat has settled in the underground lake you created for her."
"And Melusine has claimed territory in your antechamber," Frieren added softly. "She seems determined to establish herself as your... guardian."
"She's creating a nest," Nightingale stated with clinical precision. "Draconic instinct. Your scent appears to trigger protective responses in her physiology."
Caelum absorbed this information with growing resignation. The binding was already influencing their behaviors in ways specific to each of their natures.
"We shall see you at dinner tomorrow," Artoria said finally, recognizing his need for space. "Seven o'clock, by your palace's reckoning of time."
Sensing dismissal—in his own palace, no less—Caelum nodded curtly and departed, his thoughts in turmoil. He had faced cosmic entities with the power to unmake reality without hesitation, yet these women and their domestic intrusions unsettled him in ways he hadn't experienced in centuries.
As he walked, he sensed someone pacing him in the shadows of the corridor. Without turning, he said, "I can feel your presence, Lady Shiki."
Void Shiki emerged from the darkness, moving with unearthly grace. Her white hair seemed to float around her face despite the absence of wind, and her empty eyes regarded him without expression.
"Your awareness is adequate," she stated, falling into step beside him # The Crown Beneath the Stars
## Chapter 4: Silent Watchers
"High praise," Caelum replied dryly to Void Shiki's assessment of his awareness.
"It was not praise." Her voice remained perfectly neutral. "Merely observation."
They walked in silence for several moments before Caelum spoke again. "Do you have an assigned duty as well?"
"I maintain your weapons," she answered. "And trim your hair when necessary."
"Artoria was assigned weapons maintenance."
"She maintains the physical aspects. I tend to the... other properties." Void Shiki's eyes flicked to him momentarily. "Some of your collection originates from beyond conventional reality. They require special attention."
Caelum nodded, impressed despite himself. Of all his unexpected guests, Void Shiki perhaps came closest to perceiving the true nature of existence—the void beneath creation that he himself had glimpsed during his battles against those who would unmake reality.
"And my hair?" he asked with the faintest hint of amusement.
For the first time, something like emotion flickered across her face—so subtle it would have been imperceptible to anyone without his enhanced senses. Was it embarrassment?
"It seemed... appropriate," she said finally. "I have done so before, for another."
"I see." Caelum didn't press the matter, sensing the memory carried weight for her.
They arrived at his private chambers—or what had been his private chambers before the arrival of his thirteen guests. The doors slid open silently, revealing a space transformed. Where once stark functionality had dominated, now touches of warmth had been added. Additional seating areas, soft fabrics draped strategically, and vases filled with luminescent flowers from his gardens.
In one corner, as Zelda had warned, Melusine had indeed created a nest-like structure of pillows and blankets. It was positioned with a clear view of where he slept, though at a respectful distance. The small dragon-woman herself was nowhere to be seen, but Caelum could sense her presence nearby, watchful and wary.
"They've been busy," he observed.
"They seek to establish territory," Void Shiki stated. "It is a natural response to displacement."
"And you? What territory do you claim?"
She considered the question with her typical solemnity. "I require little. I will stay where I can observe without interference."
With that cryptic statement, she moved to a shadowed alcove near his bed and simply... stopped. Not sitting, not leaning, just existing in the space with perfect stillness. Had he been a lesser being, he might have found it unnerving.
Instead, he merely nodded and moved to his meditation area, determined to find some center of calm before whatever challenges the morning would bring.
## Chapter 5: Morning Revelations
Caelum woke precisely at dawn, as he had for countless centuries, his consciousness shifting from meditation to full awareness in an instant. He lay still for a moment, orienting himself in time and space—a necessary practice for one who had lived so long that decades could blur together without careful attention.
The events of the previous day seemed almost dreamlike in their improbability. Thirteen divine beings, bound to him through an ancient artifact, now serving as his personal attendants.
He became aware of presences nearby. Opening his eyes, he found Princess Zelda seated in a chair near his bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She wore a simple blue gown with white embroidery, her golden hair braided elegantly over one shoulder. Upon noticing his awareness, she rose gracefully.
"Good morning, Emperor," she greeted him, her voice soft but clear in the quiet chamber. "I trust you slept well?"
"As well as ever," he replied, sitting up. The sheets pooled around his waist, revealing a torso marked with faint silver scars—remnants of wounds that even his enhanced healing couldn't completely erase, souvenirs from battles against beings of immense power.
He noticed Zelda's gaze flicker briefly over the scars before returning to his face with perfect composure. Through their bond, he sensed not pity but a quiet respect.
"Your tea is prepared," she continued, gesturing to a small table where steam rose from an elegant pot. "And the bath has been drawn."
Before he could respond, the doors to his chambers slid open, admitting Rias Gremory and Nero Claudius, both looking far too energetic for the early hour. Rias carried what appeared to be folded garments, while Nero strode in with imperial confidence.
"Morning rituals must begin promptly!" Nero declared, clapping her hands together. "The sun rises, and with it, the glory of the empire!"
"Good morning, Emperor," Rias greeted him with a formal nod, though her eyes held a hint of mischief. "I've prepared suitable attire for today."
Caelum looked at the stack of folded clothing with suspicion. "My usual robes are adequate."
"They are not," Rias countered firmly. "They are outdated, monotonous, and frankly beneath your station. These," she gestured to the new garments, "are worthy of the Hero-Emperor."
Before he could protest further, movement caught his eye. From the nest in the corner, Melusine's head emerged, her draconic eyes blinking away sleep. Upon seeing the others in the room, she let out a soft growl, rising to her full—albeit modest—height.
"Too many," she complained, stalking toward them with predatory grace. "Too noisy. He needs rest."
"He has rested," Nero retorted, completely unfazed by Melusine's territorial display. "Now he must be prepared for the day! As his assigned bath attendant, I insist on punctuality!"
Caelum raised an eyebrow. "Bath attendant?"
"But of course!" Nero struck a dramatic pose. "Who better than an empress to ensure the Emperor's cleanliness? It is a sacred duty I shall execute with perfect artistry!"
"That won't be necessary," Caelum stated firmly. "I am perfectly capable of bathing myself."
"The binding suggests otherwise," came a new voice as Nightingale entered, carrying a medical bag. "Proper hygiene requires thorough attention to all dermal surfaces. Self-administration is statistically inadequate."
The clinical assessment, delivered in Nightingale's matter-of-fact tone, somehow made the suggestion seem both perfectly reasonable and utterly absurd.
"I have bathed myself for millennia," Caelum pointed out. "Without issue."
"Statistical anomalies exist," Nightingale conceded, approaching him with professional detachment. "However, current parameters indicate elevated stress markers. Morning vital assessment is required."
Without waiting for permission, she took his wrist, her fingers pressed against his pulse point with clinical precision. Through their bond, Caelum sensed her absolute focus—his physical condition was her only concern, with no room for embarrassment or impropriety.
"Pulse slightly elevated. Respiratory rate within acceptable parameters. Pupillary response normal," she murmured, releasing his wrist to produce a small device from her bag. "Temperature assessment required."
"I don't think—" Caelum began.
"Thinking is not medical procedure," Nightingale interrupted, pressing the device against his forehead with firm efficiency. "Data is."
Melusine growled again, moving closer to Caelum's side in a clearly protective gesture. "Too many," she repeated, glaring at the growing assembly. "Too close."
"Perhaps," Zelda suggested diplomatically, "the Emperor would prefer some privacy to begin his morning rituals. We could establish a rotation for attendance, rather than all arriving at once."
"A wise suggestion," came a stern voice from the doorway. Astraea stood there, her golden eyes taking in the scene with judicial assessment. "Order must be maintained, even in service."
The formidable woman stepped into the room, her presence commanding immediate attention. "A schedule has been drafted," she announced, producing a scroll that glowed faintly with divine light. "Morning attendance shall be limited to three at any given time, with duties clearly delineated to prevent overlap."
"How efficient," Caelum remarked dryly, finding himself increasingly surrounded by women who seemed determined to organize his life down to the minute.
"Efficiency is justice," Astraea replied without a hint of irony. "Chaos serves no one."
"And who decided on this schedule?" Caelum asked, genuinely curious about the power dynamics forming among his new attendants.
"It was a collaborative effort," Astraea explained. "Though some required... persuasion." The slight flex of her hand suggested the nature of said persuasion might have been physical.
"I see." Caelum rose from the bed, the sheet still wrapped around his lower half. "If you would all excuse me, I would like a moment to dress."
"But your bath—" Nero began to protest.
"Will wait," Caelum finished firmly. "Please."
Something in his tone must have conveyed the seriousness of his request, for they all—even Nightingale—nodded and began to withdraw. All except Melusine, who remained stubbornly at his side.
"I stay," she declared, arms crossed. "Guard duty."
Caelum looked down at the small dragon-woman, whose protective instincts seemed to have fixated entirely on him. Through their bond, he sensed her genuine concern—not just the binding's influence, but something deeper and more instinctual.
"Very well," he conceded. "But turn around."
Melusine huffed but complied, turning her back to him while maintaining her vigilant posture. As the others exited, Caelum caught Zelda's knowing smile and Rias's amused glance. Clearly, they found his predicament entertaining.
Once relatively alone, Caelum moved to where Rias had left the new garments. To his surprise, they were not as ostentatious as he had feared. The robes were similar to his usual style but crafted from finer materials, with subtle embroidery that caught the light in ways that emphasized movement. The half-cape was of a material he didn't recognize—lighter than his usual celestial hide but with a similar luminescent quality.
"Acceptable?" he asked Melusine, who had sneaked a glance over her shoulder.
"Pretty," she said with unexpected approval. "Strong-looking."
"High praise," he replied with the ghost of a smile, echoing his earlier exchange with Void Shiki.
As he dressed, Caelum sensed the others waiting beyond his chambers, their emotions flickering through the bond in varied patterns. Some impatient, others amused, a few merely resigned. It seemed his solitary existence was well and truly at an end.
## Chapter 6: Bath and Breakfast
Despite his best efforts to maintain his independence, Caelum found himself reluctantly escorted to the grand bathing chamber by Nero and Rias, with Melusine trailing behind like a suspicious guard dog. The space had been transformed overnight—what was once a utilitarian area now resembled a Roman bathhouse crossed with a celestial spa.
Steaming pools of various sizes filled the chamber, some scented with oils that reminded him of worlds long since turned to cosmic dust. Mosaic tiles depicting constellations lined the floors, and the ceiling had become a transparent dome showing the actual stars above Aetherys.
"Your imperial ablutions await!" Nero announced grandly, gesturing to the largest pool with a flourish. "I have personally selected the aromatic essences to complement your natural scent profile!"
"This is unnecessary," Caelum insisted, though with less conviction than before. The steam rising from the pools did look inviting after centuries of perfunctory cleansing.
"The binding disagrees," Rias observed, her blue-green eyes glinting with amusement. "And I suspect part of you does as well, Emperor. When was the last time you simply... enjoyed something?"
The question caught him off guard. When indeed? Time blurred when one lived as long as he had, but he could not readily recall the last time he had engaged in any activity purely for pleasure.
"That's what I thought," Rias said softly, correctly interpreting his silence. "Perhaps there's wisdom in the binding's demands after all."
Before he could formulate a response, the doors opened to admit Nightingale, who carried fresh towels with military precision.
"Bath temperature has been calibrated to optimal muscle relaxation parameters," she announced, placing the towels on a nearby bench. "Submersion should not exceed thirty minutes to prevent dehydration."
"I hardly think—" Caelum began.
"Medical opinion supersedes personal preference," Nightingale interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. "Disrobe."
Her directness startled even Nero, who let out a delighted laugh. "My, my! The battle nurse is quite commanding! I approve!"
Caelum looked from one woman to another, realizing he was genuinely outnumbered. Through their bond, he sensed no prurient interest—only a determined commitment to their assigned duties. Even Nero, for all her flamboyance, approached the task with the seriousness of a sacred ritual.
"Privacy," he requested firmly.
"Acceptable compromise," Nightingale conceded after a moment's consideration. "We shall wait beyond the screen. Call if assistance is required."
"It won't be," Caelum assured her.
The women withdrew to the far side of an ornate screen that hadn't been there the day before, though Melusine remained stubbornly in place.
"You too," Caelum told her.
"No," she responded simply, crossing her arms.
Through their bond, he sensed her unshakable resolve. This was not mere stubbornness—her draconic nature had decided he required protection during moments of vulnerability, and nothing would dissuade her.
"Turn around, at least," he sighed.
Melusine nodded, spinning to face away from him but remaining firmly in place. Caelum quickly disrobed and entered the largest pool, surprising himself with a small sigh of pleasure as the perfectly heated water enveloped him.
The bath was... pleasant. More than pleasant. The water seemed to caress his skin, easing tensions he hadn't realized he carried. Scents of jasmine, cedar, and something otherworldly filled his senses, triggering memories of peaceful moments scattered across millennia.
After what felt like both an eternity and an instant, Nightingale's voice came from beyond the screen. "Twenty-eight minutes elapsed. Optimal bathing time approaching conclusion."
Caelum almost laughed at the precision. Almost.
"Understood," he called back, rising from the water.
Melusine was immediately at his side, offering a towel without turning to look at him. He accepted it with murmured thanks, drying himself quickly before donning a robe that had been laid out—another new garment, this one designed for comfort rather than formal appearance.
"You may return," he announced to the waiting women.
They emerged from behind the screen, Nero looking triumphant, Rias smugly satisfied, and Nightingale clinically assessing his post-bath condition.
"Improved circulation evident in facial coloration," she observed. "Tension reduction in shoulder carriage. Bath efficacy confirmed."
"I feel like I've just been subjected to a scientific experiment," Caelum remarked dryly.
"All care is experimental until proven effective," Nightingale replied matter-of-factly. "Data collection continues."
"Well, I find you look magnificent!" Nero declared, circling him with obvious approval. "Cleanliness befits an emperor! Now, we must proceed to the morning meal. The others await!"
Caelum allowed himself to be guided to the dining hall, where indeed the rest of his unexpected household had gathered. The long crystalline table was now laden with an array of breakfast foods that spanned cultures and worlds—some he recognized from civilizations long since dust, others entirely new to him.
Artoria stood at attention near what was clearly his place at the head of the table. "Good morning, Emperor," she greeted him formally. "Breakfast is served."
She looked entirely in her element, the perfect knight-turned-steward, her posture impeccable and her green eyes alert. Through their bond, Caelum sensed her satisfaction at creating order from chaos—a sentiment he understood all too well.
As he took his seat, the others settled into their places with a strange mixture of ceremony and casual familiarity. Space Ishtar immediately began chattering excitedly to U-Olga Marie, who looked distinctly uncomfortable with the bubbly goddess's proximity. Summer Morgan maintained her frosty demeanor, though Caelum noted she sat directly across from him, her cool blue eyes watchful.
"The palace provided most ingredients," Artoria explained as she personally served him a selection of dishes. "Though some items required... creative substitutions."
"It looks excellent," Caelum said truthfully, impressed by the spread. "Thank you."
A flicker of pleasure crossed Artoria's usually stoic features. "It is my duty," she replied, though he sensed her pride in the accomplishment.
The meal proceeded with surprising harmony, considering the diverse and powerful personalities gathered around the table. Conversations flowed in small groups—Zelda and Frieren discussing magical theory, Vados explaining cosmic principles to an attentive Space Ereshkigal, Tiamat silently observing everything with ancient eyes.
"So," Space Ishtar said suddenly, loudly enough to catch everyone's attention. "Are we going to talk about how we're all basically married to him now, or...?"
A stunned silence fell over the table. Caelum nearly choked on his tea.
"We are not married," Artoria stated firmly, her cheeks coloring slightly. "We are bound in service. There is a significant difference."
"Is there though?" Space Ishtar pressed, waving her fork for emphasis. "We can't leave his side, we're compelled to take care of his every need, we're living in his house... Sounds pretty wifey to me!"
"The cosmic binding does bear certain similarities to matrimonial arrangements in various cultures," Vados observed dispassionately. "Though without the usual reproductive imperative."
"Thank you for that clinical assessment," Rias remarked sarcastically. "Very helpful."
"I merely state facts," Vados replied with a slight shrug.
"The binding's nature is still being determined," Caelum interjected, hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground. "It would be premature to define it in such terms."
"Wise caution," Frieren agreed softly. "Magic this complex reveals its true nature slowly."
"Speaking of revealing," Beast Koyanskaya purred, speaking up for the first time that morning. "I couldn't help but notice our Emperor's impressive collection of battle scars. Quite the warrior, aren't you?"
Her tone carried a suggestive edge that made several of the others shift uncomfortably. Through their bond, Caelum sensed her predatory assessment—not merely physical attraction, but a calculated attempt to unsettle both him and the others.
"Battles from another age," he replied evenly, meeting her gaze without flinching. "Best left in the past."
"But the past shapes the present," she countered, leaning forward slightly. "And those scars tell such interesting stories. I'd love to hear them... in detail."
"Medical documentation of historical injuries would be valuable," Nightingale interjected, completely missing—or perhaps deliberately ignoring—the subtext. "Full physical examination should be scheduled."
"Is that really necessary?" Caelum asked, finding himself increasingly surrounded by women determined to manage every aspect of his existence.
"Absolutely," Nightingale confirmed without hesitation. "Comprehensive baseline health assessment is fundamental to proper care protocols."
"Perhaps that could wait until after the Emperor has had time to adjust to our presence," Zelda suggested diplomatically. "This situation is new for all of us."
"A reasonable compromise," Astraea declared, her tone making it clear the matter was settled. "The Emperor's health is important, but so is establishing proper boundaries."
The mention of boundaries reminded Caelum of something that had been concerning him since the previous evening. "Speaking of which," he said, addressing the table at large, "I've noticed the palace rearranging itself to accommodate you all. While I understand the binding requires proximity, I would appreciate if certain areas remained... private."
"Of course," Zelda agreed immediately. "Everyone needs personal space."
"Some more than others," Summer Morgan observed coolly. "Though I wonder, Emperor, if your desire for solitude is truly what brought us here in the first place."
The pointed comment hung in the air. Caelum met her icy gaze, sensing her challenge through their bond.
"I have existed alone for longer than most civilizations," he replied evenly. "That was my choice."
"And yet here we are," she countered. "Bound to you against our will, by an artifact that responds to deep, unacknowledged desires. Curious, isn't it?"
"Are you suggesting I consciously orchestrated this?" Caelum asked, a rare edge entering his voice.
"Not consciously, perhaps," Summer Morgan replied with a slight smile that never reached her eyes. "But the heart wants what it wants... even a Hero-Emperor's heart."
The tension at the table was palpable. Caelum felt thirteen distinct emotional responses through their bond—some sympathetic, others suspicious, many simply curious about his response.
Before he could reply, Female ORT, who had remained utterly silent throughout the meal, suddenly spoke. Her voice was like crystal chimes—beautiful, alien, and slightly discordant.
"Loneliness," she said, her kaleidoscopic eyes fixed on Caelum. "Ancient. Deeper than stars. Familiar."
Her simple statement somehow cut through all pretense. Caelum felt exposed in a way that even Summer Morgan's challenging words had not achieved. Through their bond, he sensed Female ORT's own isolation—a being so fundamentally different from others that true connection seemed impossible.
Until now.
"Perhaps," he acknowledged finally, the word costing him more than facing down cosmic gods ever had. "Perhaps there is truth in that."
A subtle shift occurred around the table—a collective exhale, a lessening of tension. Even Summer Morgan's expression softened almost imperceptibly.
"Well!" Nero declared, breaking the moment with her characteristic exuberance. "Now that we've established we're all here because our magnificent Emperor was lonely, shall we discuss today's activities? I've drafted a schedule that includes a tour of the palace, a fashion consultation, and a preliminary assessment of the Emperor's bathing preferences!"
"Nero..." Artoria said with a warning tone.
"What? Organization is important! Umu!"
Despite himself, Caelum felt the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Thirteen divine beings from across the multiverse, bound to him through cosmic forces beyond even his control, arguing about bath schedules and boundaries over breakfast.
The universe, it seemed, had developed a sense of humor at his expense. And for the first time in longer than he could remember, he found he didn't entirely mind.
## Chapter 7: Tour and Tribulation
After breakfast, Caelum found himself leading an impromptu tour of his palace. What had begun as a simple suggestion from Zelda—"Perhaps we should familiarize ourselves with our new home"—had quickly evolved into a full procession, with all thirteen women following him through corridors that shifted and expanded to accommodate their group.
"This place is AMAZING!" Space Ishtar exclaimed, darting ahead to examine a crystalline pillar that pulsed with inner light. "It's like a cosmic playground! Does everything respond to thought? Can I make it create ice cream dispensers? Can we install a roller coaster?"
"The palace responds primarily to my direction," Caelum explained, watching as she bounced from one architectural feature to another with childlike enthusiasm. "Though it seems to be... accommodating to all of you as well."
"A symbiotic intelligence," Frieren observed quietly, her ancient eyes taking in the subtle shifts of the structure around them. "Fascinating. I've encountered similar constructs, but never on this scale."
"It has evolved over millennia," Caelum acknowledged. "Originally a simple fortress, it has grown more... responsive with time."
"Like a living thing," Zelda mused, trailing her fingers along a wall that shimmered at her touch. "It learns."
"What necessitated such defenses?" Artoria asked, her tactical mind clearly assessing the palace's strategic layout. "The war you fought is long over, by your own account."
"Peace requires vigilance," Caelum replied, an answer he had given himself many times over the centuries. "And some threats can never truly be eliminated, only contained."
"You speak from experience," Tomoe Gozen observed, her red eyes sharp with warrior's insight. "You've faced recurring enemies."
"Some," Caelum admitted. "Though none in recent memory."
"Recent by whose standards?" U-Olga Marie asked shrewdly. "For beings such as ourselves, 'recent' could span centuries."
"True enough," Caelum conceded with a slight nod. "Let us say, then, that the empire has known peace for a millennium. Minor conflicts arise, of course, but nothing requiring... direct intervention."
"And yet you maintain this fortress at the edge of reality," Summer Morgan noted. "Prepared for war while surrounded by peace. Curious."
Caelum sensed the probe beneath her words—she was attempting to understand his motivations, to find the truth behind his isolation. Of all his unexpected attendants, she perhaps recognized the burden of rulership most keenly.
"Preparation is prudence, not paranoia," he replied. "A lesson learned through bitter experience."
They had reached a vast circular chamber with a domed ceiling that displayed the cosmos in real-time—stars shifting, nebulae swirling, galaxies spinning in slow, majestic arcs. At the center of the room stood a raised platform surrounded by controls that seemed to grow from the crystal floor itself.
"The Observatory," Caelum explained. "From here, I can view any part of the empire, or beyond."
"Incredible," Zelda breathed, her scholarly interest piqued. "The magical energy required for such scrying..."
"Is substantial," Caelum agreed. "Though the palace draws power from the star-continent itself, which has... unique properties."
Space Ereshkigal approached the platform with obvious fascination. "This is similar to my observation systems in the underworld," she noted, examining the controls with a practiced eye. "Though far more advanced. May I?"
Caelum hesitated momentarily before nodding. "You may."
With surprising confidence, Space Ereshkigal manipulated the controls, causing the cosmic display above to shift and focus on a bustling metropolitan center on a distant world. Tall spires of impossible architecture reached toward multiple suns, while beings of various forms moved about their daily lives in peaceful harmony.
"New Atlantis," Caelum identified the location. "One of the empire's core worlds."
"They look... happy," Metatron Jeanne observed, her divine perception taking in the scene with careful assessment. "At peace."
"They are," Caelum confirmed. "The laws ensure it."
"Laws alone cannot create happiness," Astraea stated, her position as a goddess of justice giving weight to her words. "Only the opportunity to pursue it."
"The empire's foundation is choice within harmony," Caelum explained. "The laws prevent harm, not freedom."
"An admirable distinction," Artoria noted with approval. "True rulership protects liberty while preventing chaos."
Their conversation was interrupted by an alarming sound—something between a crash and a crystalline chime. All heads turned to see Space Ishtar standing beside a now-broken display, looking apologetic but not particularly remorseful.
"Oops! Sorry about that! I was just trying to see if I could make it show my home galaxy, and it got all sparkly, and then..." she gestured vaguely at the shattered crystal. "Boom."
Caelum sighed. "The controls are calibrated for specific handling."
"I'll fix it!" she declared brightly, reaching toward the broken pieces.
"Perhaps," Zelda interjected quickly, moving to intercept her, "we should continue our tour? There's still much to see."
"Yes!" Nero agreed enthusiastically. "We haven't even reached the imperial baths! The grand ones, not merely the private chambers we used this morning!"
"There are more baths?" Caelum asked, somewhat alarmed.
"The palace created them overnight," Rias explained with a hint of amusement. "It seems to be very... responsive to Nero's suggestions regarding proper imperial accommodations."
"Of course it is!" Nero declared proudly. "An emperor requires certain standards! The palace merely recognized my expertise in the matter!"
Caelum glanced at the broken display, which was already beginning to repair itself—the palace's self-maintenance systems at work. "Perhaps we should continue," he agreed, eager to prevent further accidents.
As they proceeded through grand halls and intimate gardens, Caelum found himself increasingly aware of the women's varied reactions to his domain. Void Shiki observed everything with detached interest, occasionally pausing at locations where reality seemed thinner. Tiamat moved with maternal grace, her presence causing plants to grow more vigorously in her wake. Beast Koyanskaya examined everything with calculating eyes, as if assessing potential weaknesses.
The tour eventually led them to a massive library—a circular chamber with shelves extending impossibly upward, containing tomes from across the cosmos and beyond. Books in languages long extinct, scrolls made from materials no longer found in any realm, and data crystals holding the collective knowledge of civilizations that had transcended physical form.
"This is..." Zelda breathed, her eyes wide with scholarly delight. "Extraordinary."
"My collection has grown over millennia," Caelum explained, finding himself pleased by her obvious appreciation. "Knowledge preserved from worlds long since passed."
"You saved their wisdom," Frieren observed quietly. "Even as they faded."
"Someone should remember," Caelum replied simply.
The statement hung in the air, carrying more weight than he had intended. Through their bond, he sensed the others' reactions—understanding, respect, and in some cases, a new perspective on his solitary existence.
"Well, this is all very impressive," Beast Koyanskaya said, breaking the moment with deliberate irreverence. "But I'm more interested in seeing the Emperor's personal chambers again. In greater detail this time."
Her suggestive tone earned her several glares, most notably from Melusine, who moved protectively closer to Caelum's side.
"The Emperor's private spaces are not for casual exploration," Astraea stated firmly, her golden eyes fixed on Koyanskaya with clear warning.
"But we're his caretakers, aren't we?" Koyanskaya countered with mock innocence. "Surely we need to know every aspect of his... domain."
"Proper scheduling will determine appropriate access," Nightingale declared, her tone making it clear this was not open for debate. "Random intrusions disrupt optimal care protocols."
Caelum watched this exchange with mixed feelings. On one hand, having others defend his privacy was a novel experience. On the other, the fact that they were discussing "scheduled access" to his personal space was itself an unprecedented intrusion.
"Perhaps," he suggested dryly, "we could continue this discussion later?"
"Of course, Emperor," Artoria agreed immediately, shooting a warning glance at Koyanskaya. "There is still much to see."
As they moved to exit the library, Caelum found Zelda lingering behind, her gaze fixed on a particular shelf with obvious fascination.
"You have texts from my world," she observed quietly as he approached. "Historical accounts I believed lost forever."
"The palace collects knowledge across dimensional boundaries," Caelum explained. "Often without my direct intervention."
"May I..." she hesitated, her scholarly interest warring with politeness. "Would it be permissible to study them?"
"Of course," Caelum replied without hesitation. "Knowledge should be shared, not hoarded."
The smile she gave him was like sunlight breaking through clouds—genuine and warming. Through their bond, he felt her sincere gratitude and excitement, emotions untainted by the binding's influence.
"Thank you," she said simply. "This means... more than I can express."
Something shifted in Caelum's chest—a sensation so long forgotten he almost didn't recognize it. The simple pleasure of making another happy through a genuine connection.
The moment was shattered by a tremendous crash from the corridor ahead, followed by what sounded distinctly like Nero's voice declaring, "It's much more aesthetically pleasing this way!"
Caelum sighed, exchanging a glance with Zelda, who couldn't quite suppress an amused smile.
"Perhaps," she suggested gently, "leading thirteen divine beings on a simultaneous tour was not the most... strategic approach?"
"Your wisdom is noted," Caelum replied dryly, before moving to investigate whatever imperial redecorating Nero had decided to undertake without permission.
The remainder of the tour proceeded with varying degrees of chaos—Space Ishtar attempting to "improve" several architectural features, Nero declaring various spaces "insufficient for imperial standards," and Tiamat somehow flooding an entire wing with primordial water that made everything it touched sprout small, glowing flowers.
By the time they reached the palace gardens, Caelum was experiencing an emotion he hadn't felt in centuries: exasperation.
"Perhaps," he suggested as diplomatically as possible, "we should conclude for today. You've seen the major areas, and can explore further in... smaller groups."
"A wise suggestion," Vados agreed promptly. "Collective exploration appears to increase chaotic variables exponentially."
"Does everything have to be an equation with you?" Rias asked with an exaggerated sigh.
"Accurate analysis improves efficiency," Vados replied without a hint of irony.
"I should return to my duties in the kitchen," Artoria stated, clearly eager to restore order to at least one domain. "The midday meal will require preparation."
"And I must examine your wardrobe in greater detail," Rias added, her tone suggesting she expected to find it woefully inadequate. "Proper presentation is crucial for an emperor, even in seclusion."
One by one, the women began dispersing to their self-assigne