The imperial palace of Aresia echoed with whispers of anticipation as Dante, the steadfast emperor, strode through its ornate hallways, flanked by his unyielding personal guard, Cyrus. Each purposeful step they took echoed against the polished marble, their strides synchronized and determined. They approached the birthing chamber, the birthplace of an heir, where the future prince or princess would draw their first breaths under Dante's watchful eye. As they neared the chamber's heavy oak doors, the hushed voices of attendants could be heard, their murmurs tinged with excitement and hope. Dante paused briefly at the entrance, his heart beating with an unfamiliar mix of anticipation and awe. Cyrus stood quietly beside him, an unwavering sentinel, ready to protect the precious life soon to emerge. Dante inhaled deeply, a mix of anticipation and trepidation coursing through his veins. With a nod to Cyrus, he pushed open the heavy oak doors, revealing the intimate birthing chamber with

Emperor Dante, with the barbarian messenger following closely, made their way through the palace hallways, heading toward his study. The atmosphere was tense, the silence of the halls occasionally broken by the clinking of armor and the steady rhythm of their footsteps on the stone floors. As they walked, Dante's mind was racing, weighing the implications of this unexpected visit. Cyrus, ever watchful, followed closely behind Dante and the barbarian messenger. His eyes were fixed on the stranger, his hand grasping the hilt of his sword in a subtle, yet vigilant gesture. The tension in the air was palpable, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the halls. As they approached the grand oak door, Dante, the barbarian messenger, and Cyrus were greeted by the palace guards stationed outside. The guards respectfully bowed and opened the door, allowing the trio to enter the dimly lit study. Dante, followed by the barbarian messenger and Cyrus, entered the study. The heavy oak door cl

The morning of the war arrived. Dante and Cyrus emerged from the palace, climbing onto their horses. They started their journey to the soldiers' camp, their faces set with determination. The sun's rays cast a pale glow over the landscape, providing a stark contrast to the somber mood that hung in the air. The soldiers had been training tirelessly for days, awaiting this moment. Dante and Cyrus arrived at the camp and surveyed the scene. The soldiers were already assembled, their faces a mixture of determination and anxiety. Meanwhile, Commander Elgin was engaged in last-minute preparations, barking orders and directing his men. Dante, addressing Commander Elgin, called out, "Commander Elgin, come into the tent." Elgin, hearing Dante's call, broke away from the preparations and entered the tent. Cyrus, quickly retrieved the battle plans and handed them to Dante, who spread them out on a table for closer examination. Dante, studying the plans, announced, "Alright, we'll us

The next morning, Phílos awoke early, determined to move swiftly. He took a brief moment to freshen up before setting off for the amphitheatre. Upon reaching the amphitheatre, Phílos found his workforce already arriving and busy getting their equipment ready to begin the cleaning process, his voice ringing with authority, commanded his workers, "Let's get started! We have a lot to accomplish." His workers, eager to please their new emperor, quickly got to work carrying out his instructions. The air buzzed with the sounds of chatter as they began their tasks, clearing the arena and tidying the area for its impending restoration. Phílos returns back to the palace leaving the workers to clean up the amphitheatre, his mind set on his tasks, walked through the palace's grand halls and stepped into the throne room. His eyes fell upon Calliope, seated at her own designated chair. Phílos approached her calmly, his gaze meeting hers with a mix of determination and weariness. He greeted hi