Ashborn Empire

Chapter 74: Chapter 73 - Whispers Beneath the Dragon Throne



They assembled in the high court before dawn. Lanterns burned low, smoke curling up to vanish among carved dragons on the beams. Outside, bells tolled in slow patterns — each note a thin echo that seemed to crawl through the marble itself.

The ministers stood packed shoulder to shoulder, layered in somber silk. Their faces were bloodless, stiff with tension. The puppet Emperor perched on his gilded throne like a fragile figurine, hands knotted tight in his sleeves.

At the dais, my father sat tall, his presence as heavy as iron laid across the hall. To his right was Wu Kang, lazy grace stripped away — he was taut as a drawn bow, ready to release. Beside him, Wu Ling reclined with eyes half-lidded, tracing invisible sigils on her knee, lips parted as though whispering to ghosts.

Wu Jin stood to the left, soft-eyed, looking as if he might weep. But I saw the tiny twitch in his fingers, as if gently counting which way the scale might tip.

A herald struck a small bronze gong. Its low sound rippled through the hush.

"Today the court hears final witness and judgment on the Fourth Prince, by command of His Imperial Majesty and the Lord Protector."

Wu Kang rose first, his voice smooth as oiled silk.

"Brothers of Liang — you have heard what stands against the Fourth Prince. You have read the ledgers inked in blood. You have watched old generals weep for the men he led into madness and ruin. Will you crown such a shadow with our trust? Or shall we cut this rot before it eats deeper?"

He sat, eyes gleaming, sure of his triumph.

Then the Lord Protector's voice rang out — cold, formal.

"The Fourth Prince will now speak in his own defense."

I stepped forward alone. The jade tiles seemed to pulse faintly underfoot, carrying the thrum of my heart — or something older still, buried deep beneath this palace long before any of us were born.

I let the silence stretch until it hurt. The courtiers leaned forward, breathless, unable to decide if they wished me to beg or to snarl.

"My lords," I began softly. The hush grew sharper. Even the scratching of scribes' brushes paused.

"You name what I did at Bù Zhèng monstrous. You call it cruelty — a stain on Liang's honor. Perhaps. But tell me: when has honor ever fed our children? When have pretty laws spared our borders from fire?"

I let my eyes drift over them, from trembling ministers to the puppet Emperor's pale face.

"In the marshes, I found the heart of fear. I fed it until it grew so vast the southern commanders flinched at our very banners. It was not pity that won those walls back — it was terror. And terror, my lords, is loyalty's elder brother. It binds more tightly than gold. It lasts longer than oaths."

A single minister swallowed so hard I heard it from ten paces away.

I stepped closer. The cold inside me pressed outward, wrapping each word in frost.

"You wish to weigh my deeds on the scale of empire? Then set upon it the bodies of our enemies who will not raid our fields this autumn. Set upon it the coffers now fat with southern tribute. Set upon it the peasants of Bù Zhèng who bend knee to Liang once more instead of raising knives at your tax collectors."

My voice dropped to almost a whisper.

"Set upon it also the trembling in your own hearts. Because I promise you this — that same trembling grips every lord who dreams of rebellion tonight. And it will hold them faster than any decree you inscribe upon these jade walls."

The hush was total. Ministers stood transfixed, robes swaying slightly as though a cold wind had swept the hall. Even Wu Kang's lips parted, something flickering in his eyes — not victory, but unease.

Wu Ling's pupils had dilated, her breath shallow. A smile ghosted over her mouth, small and secret, as if she savored something forbidden.

I tilted my head, letting the faintest smile crack my lips.

"So judge me, if you must. Strike me down in the name of your delicate conscience. But do so knowing that it will be your sons, not mine, who stand weeping when southern banners come again. Because the horror you fear in me? It is the only horror that keeps our enemies awake at night."

I fell silent. And in that void, the cold under my ribs coiled tighter, pleased. It knew what they felt now — not triumph, not righteousness. Only that creeping understanding that monsters were sometimes necessary, so long as they were leashed to the right throne.

The Lord Protector rose slowly. His eyes met mine across the breadth of the court — no warmth, no pity. Only the grim understanding of a general who had long ago sold his own mercy for victories.

"This tribunal will reconvene tomorrow for final judgment," he intoned. "Let the night weigh heavily upon each of you before we carve this matter into history."

A gong sounded again. The ministers scattered in uneasy knots, voices pitched low, as if speaking louder might shatter their own fragile certainty.

Shen Yue gripped my arm as we left. Her hand trembled slightly, though her eyes were fierce.

"They're terrified of you. That may be the only thing that saves you — or the blade they'll turn against your throat if they ever grow brave."

Wu Jin brushed past us, soft as drifting paper. He paused just long enough to murmur,

"Sometimes it's better to be the horror they can't yet afford to kill. Just remember, dear brother — even monsters have to sleep sometime."

His smile was thin, almost regretful. Then he was gone, swallowed by the swirl of courtiers like a stone sinking into dark water.

As we passed through the shadowed colonnade back to my private chambers, the cold thing inside me pressed so close I nearly gasped. It pulsed with giddy hunger, whispering without words how close we were to feasting — on fear, on blood, on the fragile hearts of all who thought they held my leash.

Tomorrow, they would speak my fate.

And I would show them how little words could hold back the dark.


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