The World's Strongest Human Power
In the Roburia Empire, one week after the incident involving the Count of Ormsford—Juliq Herlon—a meeting was convened at the imperial palace, attended only by the elite members of the imperial court.
Eleven individuals stood gathered in the royal throne room.
It was a massive hall, large enough for a giant to stand upright without touching the ceiling. Towering columns stretched high, supporting the grand structure, while a crimson carpet divided the chamber into two. Compared to Ormsford’s throne room, this was something else entirely.
This was wealth made manifest.
Power given shape.
All present lowered their heads as a man entered from the side of the hall, his thunderous footsteps echoing through the chamber—measured, calm, and disciplined.
His body radiated strength. Glorious golden hair caught the light like the sun itself. His face could be righteous or cruel depending on the moment, yet either way, it inspired awe. Jewelry adorned him—each piece more radiant than anything else in the room.
He was dressed for his station.
At last, he reached the throne—an ornate seat of red and gold—and took his rightful place, resting his arms upon its armrests.
Though he was a man in his fifties, his body showed no sign of decay. A crown sat upon his golden hair, and royal robes—normally reserved for parades—draped over his shoulders.
Seeing him was like watching money breathe, and power walked beside him, hand in hand.
This was the Emperor of the Roburia Empire.
And he was perfect.
“You may all raise your heads,” he commanded, his deep, steady voice filling the silent hall.
Those prostrated before him obeyed at once, rising in perfect unison. Even his closest advisor showed no exception to this respect.
As they say, respect begins at home—if those nearest to you do not show it, no one else ever will.
When they straightened, nine figures stood divided by the red carpet. Two men occupied the left side, each with two attendants behind them. The remaining figures stood to the right with their own attendants.
Only one stood alone.
A woman—without an attendant—stood on the right side. The only woman in the room who held power.
“I imagine you’re all wondering why I called this meeting on such short notice,” the Emperor said. “So let us not waste time.”
His advisor, Leo, stepped forward and spoke next.
“A few days ago, a letter arrived from the Kingdom of Ormsford, written by King Manfroi himself,” he said. “It detailed an incident involving Count Juliq Herlon—an incident that left both the count and his domain in ruins.”
“If it happened in their kingdom, how does this concern us?” a voice interrupted.
“I was about to address that,” Leo replied calmly.
The interruption came from Duke Aldus Barat Vermillion—a man as fiery in spirit as he was in appearance, with crimson hair, blood‑red attire, and a temper that ignited at the slightest provocation.
“Do not interrupt when someone is speaking,” another voice snapped. “You’ll get your answer.”
“Tch. Nobody was talking to you,” Aldus scoffed.
The remark came from the lone woman on the right, and she only added to Aldus' frustration.
Her name was Rosa Ash, one of the dukes of the Empire. A long-lived addition to the court, and one that most of the populace doesn't even know exists.
The official imperial court has four dukes, as well as other lower-ranking nobles. Rosa is not counted among the dukes, but her station in the court is just as powerful and more.
Aldus clicked his tongue, but Rosa remained composed.
Leo ignored the exchange and continued.
“The count was found in critical condition. His left arm was severed, and half of his mansion was destroyed.”
Silence.
No one reacted.
Then Leo pressed on.
“Duke Vermillion,” Leo said, turning to Aldus. “To answer your earlier question—this concerns us because the perpetrator of the incident, according to the letter, was Reina Stacia.”
Two reactions followed immediately.
Aldus and Rosa both stiffened, their eyes widening as they turned sharply toward Leo.
The other dukes barely moved—some opened their eyes in mild curiosity, but nothing more.
However, Rosa’s shock vanished quickly.
“Fufufufu!” she laughed. “Little Reina… I wonder what she’s done this time.”
Her amusement was genuine. And everyone turned their focus to her, wondering what she found to be so funny at a time like that.
Aldus, meanwhile, looked genuinely shaken—his anger replaced by disbelief.
“Duke Vermillion,” Leo continued, “Reina Stacia is your sister, is she not?”
All eyes turned to Aldus.
He scoffed, then straightened.
“…She is not my sister,” he said coldly. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t refer to her as such.”
No one spoke. Aldus didn't add anything despite the pressure from all spectators.
That was his answer.
Leo accepted it and turned to Rosa.
“Lady Rosa, you trained Reina. Do you believe she’s capable of this?”
“If you're asking if she's capable of destroying the count's manor—yes,” Rosa replied calmly. “But—My Reina would never do something like this without reason. The count must have provoked her.”
She finished with pride, gesturing dismissively.
“Regardless of the motive,” another duke spoke, “a member of royalty committing barbaric acts in foreign lands is truly inelegant.”
The speaker stood beside Rosa—Duke Mothis Ancelot IV. Long green coat draped over his shoulders, refined posture, and a voice that clearly enjoyed its own sound.
Though Mothis is the fourth generation of the Ancelot line, he was over 180 years old.
Now, this may seem like the empire is new, given that the current duke is the fourth generation, or maybe the previous dukes died young.
However, that is not the case.
The empire was, in fact, founded about 600 years ago, and the issue of generations is that humans in this world can live over a hundred years, easily. Some even live to 200 years in good health.
So, Duke Mothis Ancelot IV is actually the oldest among the four dukes with a long white beard.
“Keep your opinions to yourself, Mothis,” Rosa shot back.
“Says the woman who just shared hers,” he replied smoothly.
Their stares locked—neither yielding.
“Control yourselves,” Leo commanded. “You are in the presence of the Emperor.”
He shot a look of intimidation their way. And the room quickly became silent after that.
Even the fearless Rosa could only restrain herself, but was it out of fear or only to show respect to the emperor? Either way, she remained quiet.
“Sir Leo, I am still not getting the picture here,” another duke said, “ Yes, we know that Reina is responsible, or at least that's what the letter says anyway, but what is it that the Kingdom of Ormsford is trying to achieve by telling us this?
I assume they want something.”
This was Duke Milotic. A man dressed in blue signifying his magical element—A man focused less on drama and more on intent. He was going with the flow till his patience faded.
"The letter said—" Leo began to respond, but the Emperor raised his hand. "Your Majesty?"
With this single gesture, the room froze.
Throughout the entire meeting, this was the first movement he had made. Even when the dukes were bickering, he did not intervene.
“King Manfroi is insignificant,” the Emperor said calmly. “However, that doesn't mean he is to be taken lightly. With this incident, he can be a threat."
"...I will protect the empire," The last duke spoke. "Ormsford can try whatever they want. But nothing will get through my defense."
Using his proud and rough voice to the ears, he spoke after the emperor. Duke Rogerin Hann Gradsky was his name.
"Yes, my lord, they do not call you The Fortress for nothing."
The praise came from Duke Rogerin Hann Gradsky’s attendant.
Gradsky himself remained still. However, his moniker, "The Fortress," painted a pretty accurate picture of the kind of man he is, both physically and philosophically.
A low-cut hairstyle with lines on the sides. Contrary to his body, he had a small head atop his giant physique.
He, too, only reacted this time. Throughout the meeting, he had his eyes closed and arms folded, remaining standing taller than anyone.
To look at this man, you had to lift your head, and for a small person, they might even develop neck problems just from looking at his face.
That's how tall he was, not to mention the muscle on his body could deflect a bullet. Palms that could crush a skull were also part of his arsenal.
“I’ll be relying on you, Duke Gradsky,” the Emperor said.
“I will not fail you,” Gradsky replied.
Jealous glances spread among the men.
Everyone looked at Gradsky with envious eyes and jealousy. He is the only man to speak and get the emperor to acknowledge him and trust him with something, an honor they would give anything to receive.
However, this was only true for the men. Rosa remained unimpressed.
"Although it would be unwise for him to attack us even if it's justified," Duke Gradsky continued. "Even he knows it won't end well for him."
“If an attack is not the purpose of that letter," Aldus asked. "Then what does Ormsford want?”
“Negotiations,” the Emperor replied.
The room stirred.
“Assuming Reina is responsible,” the Emperor continued, “what would be the smartest move for a small kingdom like Ormsford?”
“…Leverage,” Aldus answered after a pause.
“Correct.”
Understanding spread among the attendants and some dukes.
King Manfroi had made his move. And now, the Empire would finally call the meeting to discuss it's response to order.
