Each Sovereign announced themselves, rose, bowed then returned to kneeling.
"The Sovereign of Valor, Cael Eidryn."
"...Known as the Storm of Eidryn… The Supreme Overseer of the Seven Legions of Eidryn, our grand imperial military."
Cael Eidryn was in his mid-to-late 30s and stood at the ridiculous height of 6 feet and 8 inches. His sheer size commanded attention, with his towering appearance and presence. His hair is a striking shade of deep blue, long and unruly, often braided to keep it out of his face during combat. The blue is a rare genetic trait passed down through his family. His eyes are a pale, almost icy blue.
Broad-shouldered and heavily muscled, Cael's physique is a testament to years of training and combat. His presence is both imposing and inspiring, a reflection of his role as a symbol of strength and courage. Across his unseen chest, he bore the mark of Eidryn—the royal insignia etched in deep blue tattoos. The mark symbolizes both his lineage and his dedication to the Empire.
"...Always wearing his armor everywhere he goes, I see. Well-maintained too…"
His helmet is a full-face design, with a crest shaped like a lion's mane, symbolizing his strength and bravery. The faceplate is engraved with storm motifs. The chestplate is lightweight but nearly indestructible. It is designed for maximum mobility while protecting vital organs. The front of the plate bears the insignia of his house, a lion's head encircled by a storm cloud. He wore heavy-duty iron gauntlets with thick, reinforced plating. The knuckles are emblazoned with the symbol of a storm.
His greaves are made from thick, enchanted leather and metal alloy, designed to protect Cael's legs during battle. His boots are reinforced with steel toe caps and heel guards, making them ideal for stomping through rough terrain or charging into battle. His cloak is made from the dark, stormy fabric of the tempest, woven with enchanted thread. It flows behind Cael like a violent storm, shifting with the wind as he moves.
"Sovereign of Vengeance, Seliora Eidryn." She subtly winked and had a seductive tone of voice.
"...Trying to be seductive as always… she did have a particular interest in me… as well as Avelina. My enforcer, both judge and executioner. She trains her warriors to be feared assassins and merciless avengers…"
Seliora Eidryn was in her late 30s and stood at the height of 5 feet, one of the shorter Sovereigns. She is a striking woman, with long, crimson red hair streaked with shimmering silver that cascades down her back like a wave of fire and frost. Despite her short and small stature, she carries herself with an undeniable presence, her movements graceful and precise. Her fine facial features—high cheekbones, sharp eyes, and a delicate nose—contribute to her ethereal beauty. There is an otherworldly charm to her appearance, enhanced by the contrast of her hair's fiery hue against her pale, porcelain-like skin.
"...Her advances would work on a normal man."
She wore a uniform that fit her role as an enforcer and assassin. A form-fitting, sleeveless black tunic made of a flexible, enchanted fabric resistant to cuts and burns. Silver embroidery — fine and sharp like thorny vines — winds around the neckline and hem. Crimson inner lining, visible only when she moves. A short, high-collared half-cloak draped over her left shoulder, fastened with a silver brooch shaped like a blood-red gauntlet clutching a black sword, the symbol of Vengeance's Reach, the Third Dukedom of House Eidryn. The inside of the cloak shimmers with faint crimson sigils.
Black fitted combat trousers reinforced at the knees and hips with subtle armored plates. Knee-high black boots, laced with crimson thread, lightweight but built for silent movement. The soles are padded to muffle her steps. Silver vambraces (forearm guards) inscribed with runes for protection against magic. Light chest armor — a black leather corset reinforced with silver filigree and thin metal plating hidden underneath, allowing her full mobility without sacrificing defense. Thin, segmented pauldrons on her shoulders, designed to deflect blows without restricting her arms.
Fingerless black gloves with hidden compartments for throwing knives. A slim belt lined with pouches for potions, smoke bombs, and throwing weapons. She wore a thin silver chain around her neck bearing a small, sharp charm — a keepsake from her fallen family.
"The Sovereign of Vision, Darian Eidryn. At your humblest service."
"...The Eye of Eidryn… Both a seer and a strategist, wielding utmost foresight that's necessary for our future. His land is full of mystics and seers he's trained himself."
Darian Eidryn was in his early 30s and stood at the height of 6 feet. He had a tall and commanding presence. Lustrous black hair, kept neatly styled, often slicked back to reveal his sharp features. Piercing, black eyes that seem to always be analyzing the world around him. He wears thin, wire-framed glasses perched on his nose, a signature look that adds to his refined, intellectual demeanor. Lean and athletic, reflecting both his strategic mind and the physical demands of his role.
He wore a flowing, sleeveless over-robe made of a sheer, shimmering fabric — mist-like in motion. It drapes from his shoulders like a veil of fog, the hem embroidered with runic constellations representing a seer's path. Fitted tunic of indigo velvet, high-collared, with silver-thread lines in branching, root-like patterns — representing the many branching paths of fate. A shoulder mantle that was ornate half-moon pauldrons of etched moonsteel, shaped like crescent eyes.
Dark gray trousers, reinforced but soft, embroidered with twisting script in a long-lost seer's dialect along the sides. Wide sorcerer's sleeves, inner-lining patterned with star maps of historical omens. Half-gloves in deep blue leather with arcane sigils sewn in pale thread across the back of the hand — activated during ritual foresight. Boots of dusky leather, flat-soled for silent movement, adorned with small silver eye-charms at the ankles.
On his head lay a thin circlet of platinum, inset with a single opal shaped like an eye, constantly shimmering between cloudy and clear. Tiny veil-chains hang from the circlet over the left eye — a symbolic "shrouding" of his clearer sight from those unworthy.
"Sovereign of Valorance, Avelina Eidryn." She gave off a more dignified, romantic tone and approach compared to Seliora.
"...Rivals in interest?... Just seems to me she tried to unnerve Seliora, which won't work…"
"Sovereign of Volition, Auren Eidryn!" He gave off the same, subservient but hyper approach toward Valen.
"...It's like I'm looking at a younger brother."
"...Sovereign of Viscera, Miriya Eidryn." She gave off a somewhat innocent, but vibrant tone.
"...The Veil of Eidryn, innocent smile but yet in charge of the mortal domain between life and death. Commanding our necromancers, alchemists and healers. I wonder how she handles the toll of it all…"
Miriya Eidryn was in her early 20s, like Valen himself, and stood at a height of 4 feet and 10 inches. The shortest Sovereign. She had bright verdant green hair, soft and thick, often styled into playful twin buns or a loose braid that drapes over her shoulder. Light gold eyes, wide and expressive, often sparkling with curiosity or mischief. Petite, slim, and nimble, almost fairy-like in appearance. Round face, small nose, full cheeks, and a constantly bright smile that makes her seem younger than she is.
She wore a short, fitted green tunic with an asymmetrical skirt — longer at the back, shorter at the front — woven from enchanted silk that mimics the texture of leaves. Gold stitching along the edges creates flowing patterns of vines and blooming flowers. Beneath the tunic, white leggings made from breathable, flexible material, reinforced lightly at the knees and ankles. A semi-transparent, shimmering green cape attached at the shoulders by golden clasps shaped like blooming flowers. The cape is alive, woven from a living plant-fiber; it shifts color subtly based on her surroundings (brighter in sunlight, darker in shade). It falls lightly behind her, resembling a trailing canopy of ivy or new spring growth.
Soft, knee-high boots of supple brown leather, designed for silent steps through any terrain. They are laced with vines enchanted to tighten or loosen at Miriya's command, allowing her to move quickly or even climb surfaces with ease. Minimal, lightweight armor — small gold-green shoulder guards shaped like overlapping leaves. A thin chest piece of hardened bark-like material over her heart area, subtle enough to be hidden under her tunic without hindering her movement. Arm bracers made of flexible green steel entwined with vines — good for deflecting blows. Fingerless white gloves with green embroidery, granting her better control when channeling magic through her staff.
She had a thin golden circlet on her forehead, featuring a small, gleaming green gem. A belt made of woven vines and gold rings, from which hang pouches for herbs, seeds, and magic reagents. Tiny charms with carved spiritual runes dangle from her belt, warding off hostile magic.
"Raise yourselves." Valen commanded, as the six Sovereigns were instinctively aware of his bright aura that manifested from his vast usage of magic, a prominent side-effect.
"You did well to gather here. I know each of you have your dukedoms to lead."
"...Your compliments are wasted on us, Your Majesty." Avelina responded.
"Onto the reason I have called this meeting, our empire is currently caught in a precarious situation. Ourselves, our land and our people have been transferred into different realms within Velkaris itself."
A figure then opened the large doors that led to the Throne Room, revealing Sirkael Eidryn.
"...I sent Sirkael to survey our exterior surroundings."
"Sovereign of Virtue, Sirkael, entering." He quickly bowed and approached the others.
"According to my Tenet of Virtuous Reconnaissance, Captain Vaelora, there are only grasslands that surround Velkaris. It is completely different from the Capital of Eidryn, in which Velkaris stood. She could not confirm any sight of humans, beasts or even civilization in our immediate range."
"Hm. Seems like we've transmigrated to a different world. That fully explains our pale skin, as if we've been resurrected from the dead. I assume all of you remember the Traitorous War, in which took the lives of your former masters."
The Sovereigns simply nodded.
"Avelina."
She looked up.
"Out of all the newest Sovereigns here, you have the most experience within your role. You will be the High Sovereign, overseeing the rest in their newfound duties."
"Yes, Your Majesty. I am honored."
"Avelina. Cael. Darian. Unknown as this new world may be, you three are tasked with creating a stronger information sharing system based on our new circumstances and building up our practically nonexistent defenses outside of Velkaris."
"Understood."
"Your Majesty, if I may suggest something." Darian spoke up.
"Speak your mind."
"We should conceal Velkaris for the time being, blending into our environment."
"Go on."
"A random mound in an area of grasslands may look unnatural, however. Sirkael, are there any mountains or hills near our immediate range?" Darian turned to him.
"Yes. There are some near us. Ah, I see…You wish to camouflage Velkaris using illusionary magic."
Darian nodded.
"Make the arrangements."
The seven then kneeled, acknowledging his commands.
Valen then used his ring to warp away, teleporting back to the Celestial Tower, leaving the Seven Sovereigns within his Throne Room.
"He seems to be the same, nothing's different." Miriya spoke to Auren.
"I think that's the first time I've actually seen his aura that everyone talks about."
"He's acknowledged us as the new Sovereigns." Cael noted, referring to the order he was given.
"...I do remember hearing from my master that His Majesty used to have a considerate nature. He didn't seem like the harsh Emperor from the beginning days of the empire, I heard his wrath was legendary."
Miriya couldn't believe it, showing a shocked expression. "Maybe that's just how he treats his Sovereigns then and everyone else differently. And he seemed to listen to the counsel of Darian and he honored his voice."
"...We should return to our dukedoms and work on the assignments given to us, or continue to command our domains we've been given." Sirkael spoke up.
"I agree." Darian said as he perked up his glasses. He then looked toward Seliora, where he felt her imaginable anger.
"...What seems to trouble you, Seliora?"
Seliora then spoke, wearing her angered expression.
"Why did that woman receive the title of High Sovereign… I could accept you to be the High Sovereign, or maybe even Cael, but her? Unbelievable."
"Seems someone is jealous that I've been favored. I'm ahead. Accept it and move on, act appropriately for someone of your status, Seliora." She spoke with a stern, but rebuttal tone.
"I will cut your throat right here, do not mock me, Avelina."
"Try your best."
Darian sighed. "I'll leave you to deal with this, Miriya. The troubles of women don't interest me."
Cael nodded in agreement as they walked away to a different area of the Throne Room.
"...Me?" Miriya then looked at the two, currently about to bump heads and hurling insults at one another.
"Be it as it may, selecting Avelina as High Sovereign is not a bad choice, since she's well versed in diplomacy and her dukedom is the combination of valor and radiance. She's suited to be the Prime Minister of sorts, I believe that's what the term was known as."
Cael nodded, continuing to listen.
"As for their dispute… Having an eventual descendant wouldn't be so bad. But the Emperor is young so he does have time to choose."
"Ha. Between those two? I highly doubt it." Cael retorted.
"They are Sovereigns, so the decision wouldn't be so lost of thought."
Darian then turned back. "Avelina! We have much work to do. Please halt your infighting for another day."
"...You are right." Avelina then walked toward their direction, as the three then exited the Throne Room.
"...This isn't over, bitch." Seliora whispered to herself as she then waited for the three to leave before she dismissed back to her own dukedom.
*
"...The Mirror Vault…"
The entrance seemed to blend in with the Nightward Hall, smooth white stone. The only difference were the faint shown glyphs of maroon, like blood, that responded to his presence. Valen then pressed on the hand sigil, where the stone melted silently into mere shadow, revealing the chamber. The room itself was protected by the ancestral glyphs, where they also erased the memory of any intruder that glimpses and does not belong.
The room is octagonal, lined with towering arched mirrors, each bound in metal unique. Some mirrors featured the Dane Mirror of Seven – Fractured into seven sharp reflections, each showing how one Sovereign might betray the Empire if left unchecked. The Mirror of Echoes – This one alone speaks back, whispering not truth, but possibility — the futures Valen has chosen.
The room is eternally cold, yet no frost forms. The air hums with ancient pressure, as though reality strains at the edges. Light comes not from flame or sun, but from the mirrors themselves, each glowing softly when approached, or blazing when angered. Footsteps echo endlessly, bouncing in patterns that sometimes sound like whispered words.
"...The Dane Mirror and the Mirror of Echoes are the ones that will be the most useful once I learn more about this world. These mirrors kept the Empire as the one world power for years."
He then looked at the alcoves between the mirrors. The Mirror Vault held artifacts from the Empire's founding, some no longer allowed to exist by law. Some included the Timeless Chain – A rusted iron ring said to have belonged to the former Sovereign of Viscera who defied time itself. The Tenfold Blade of Silence – An obsidian greatsword that has not been drawn in three centuries; its unsheathing ends entire armies, with its legendary runes written to warp reality itself. Each relic is placed on black velvet within crystal coffers, untouchable without Valen's touch.
He then walked over to the former Sovereign of Valor's equipment: his armor and his weapon.
"...Arthur…The Valorful Light of Eidryn…"
He looked upon Arthur's former armor, Lamenhart, forged from mythril and blessed steel, light yet impossibly strong, polished to a mirror sheen.
The base is a radiant silver-white, inlaid with flowing golden filigree that resembles feathers, rays of sunlight, and divine script. Rather than angular or oppressive, the armor's contours are smooth and almost angelic, shaped with elegance and precision to evoke reverence rather than fear. The pauldrons are adorned with winglike etchings, subtly feathered in their design, symbolizing protection and the burden of guardianship. A brilliant sapphire is set in the breastplate—representing clarity, resolve, and his bond with the light. The gauntlets are finely articulated, with glowing seams where enchantments hum quietly beneath the surface, allowing the channel of light magic through his blade or hands. His cape flows like white silk, weightless and untarnished, with golden embroidery depicting the Seven Sovereigns not as figures of power, but as virtues to aspire toward.
A sleek and contoured silver and golden helmet, carved like an angelic being. Rising subtly from the crown is a thin, luminous circlet of energy: an enchantment that activates a shield of pure light. This golden ring floats just above the helmet's top, casting a soft light around the head like a divine aura. It is both a magical ward and a symbol—of transcendence, divine right, and incorruptibility.
"...Thankfully his armor is relatively, but opposite to the armor I wear. I may have use for your armor, Arthur. Forgive me, for I am taking your weapon, your armor and your name…"
"...In this new world, it would be good to establish an alternative to myself. One of imperial dominion and one of radiant heroism…"
"...TheHero of Light…"