Throne Without Heirs

Zhongjing, the capital of the Xuan Yi Empire, never truly slept. Even in the freezing autumn like today, the bone-chilling north wind could not dispel the heat of the whispers in the hall of power.

It had been five years since Sylus Zhephiroth, the youngest crown prince in the history of the empire, was crowned Emperor. A tall, tanned young man with bright red eyes and short silver hair like a sword, he stood at the pinnacle of power like a god. But one thing made the entire country restless: he had no descendants.

Furthermore, he had no concubines.

On that day, the main assembly hall in the Front Pavilion was filled with the voices of the high nobles, members of the Grand Council, and heads of influential families.

"—Your Majesty, with all due respect, we are only sending the future of the empire."

"Without a legitimate heir, how can stability be maintained?"

"If something happens to Your Majesty, who will continue—"

"We are not asking for Your Majesty to marry, only to accept concubines. Moreover, one is enough!"

Their voices alternated, layered with falsehood and worry that were too sweet to be believed.

Sylus sat on a towering black silver throne, one leg casually crossed over his knee, his chin resting on his knuckles. His face was flat. Unperturbed.

"Is it finished?" his voice was calm, deep, and echoed throughout the hall.

Once the words were out, the entire room fell silent.

The bright red eyes swept over the rows of nobles standing below. They bowed slightly—out of fear, out of reluctance, or out of shame, no one knew.

"You suggest," he said slowly, his voice rising slightly, "that I take your children… as my concubines?"

His fingers twisted the lion's back of his chair. The knocking echoed, cutting through the silence.

No one answered.

Only a few noblemen and women exchanged glances. They had prepared names. Their beautiful, docile, fertile children. Those who had been trained from childhood to seduce, to obey, to bear heirs to the Emperor's blood.

Sylus took a deep breath. Then stood up.

His towering body and authority made many hold their breath.

"Get out."

One word.

Like a hammer hitting the floor.

They obeyed. One by one, the nobles bowed, pulled up their sleeves, and left the hall with restrained faces. Not one dared to openly protest.

Only a few people remained in the hall. People who had been silent from the beginning.

Zayne Huanzi, the Legal Advisor who always stood upright on the left side of the throne. Silent and sharp.

Caleb Zadbeckh, the Imperial General, stared intently at the door that had just closed. Straight, full of tension, but silent.

Rafayel Mnatoch, one leg crossed and half leaning against the pillar, chewed grapes while watching the chaos as if watching a stage play.

Xavier Ytearv, standing in the shadows, as usual. Not saying a word.

Sylus stepped down from his throne.

"Do you think I don't know, this is just a power play?" he asked, to no one in particular.

There was no answer. And it wasn't needed.

He walked slowly to the large window of the hall, looking out at the palace garden that was starting to fill with red leaves.

"Five years I refused to have children," he said softly, but loud enough to be heard. "And five years they prepared every loophole, every scheme, every plan... to tie my neck to their children."

Rafael raised an eyebrow. "You can't blame them entirely. This is an empire. Children mean power. A throne without an heir is a battlefield."

Sylus turned his head halfway. "I know. But I also know, the first concubine I take will be a symbol... And a weapon."

Zayne finally spoke calmly and coldly, "They won't stop. Not until a child stands before you and calls you Father."

"And they'll make sure it's not just any child," Caleb added, his tone stiff. "But a tool. To threaten you. Or destroy you."

Sylus approached a small table at the side of the hall. He handed her a cup of cold tea and stared at it like he was staring into a bleak future.

“I’m asexual,” he said flatly. “Not interested in sex. Not in need of intimacy. They know that. But they think they can force me with political pressure.”

He took a sip.

“Very well,” his voice was calm, but cold as steel. “Let’s start their game.”

He turned to Zayne, then to Rafael, Caleb, and Xavier.

“Start the list of names. But don’t let them think I’m picking. Let the thinking ones win…for now.”

Zayne nodded. Rafael smiled faintly. Caleb gripped his sword sheath tighter. Xavier simply slid deeper into the shadows.

The doors to the hall closed again.

Outside, the empire stirs in a silent storm. Inside, the Emperor begins to rewrite the rules of the game.

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