The air in the luxurious room was thick with an almost palpable tension, despite the soft music that played faintly in the background. The walls, lined with tapestries that seemed to shimmer with an ethereal glow, seemed to enclose the two women in an almost private, intimate world. The room's decor was sumptuous—velvet cushions, gilded furniture, and an assortment of rare flowers in vases—yet the opulence of the surroundings could not soften the underlying currents of rivalry between the two women sitting at opposite ends of the table.
Salome, the Princess of the Holy Empire, was, by all outward appearances, a vision of grace. Her long, light green hair cascaded down her back in waves, and her purple eyes sparkled with an inner light, though one might have been wise to question the true nature of that sparkle. She was dressed in a black dress, meticulously tailored to show off her curvaceous figure. Gold embroidery traced intricate designs along the neckline and cuffs, adding an air of regal elegance to the ensemble. The way she moved was slow, measured, and deliberate, as though every step she took was a performance meant to draw the gaze of anyone lucky enough to witness it.
And yet, beneath her beauty, there was something cold, calculating. Her smile, though charming, never quite reached her eyes. She was a woman who understood the power of her looks and knew how to use them to her advantage. But more than that, she was a woman who was determined to control her own destiny, no matter the cost.
On the opposite side of the room, Semiramis watched her closely. There was no denying the beauty that Salome possessed, but it was a beauty that seemed to pale in comparison to Semiramis herself. As the so-called Jewel of the Empire, Salome may have commanded the admiration of many, but Semiramis held a beauty that could bend the world to her will. Her dark, flowing hair framed a face so striking that it could have stopped wars, and her eyes glimmered with a sharpness that made anyone around her aware of her power, even without a word spoken. The very air around her seemed to shudder when she entered a room.
While Salome's elegance might have enchanted some, it was Semiramis who ruled the space. Her posture was regal, yet effortless. Every glance and gesture from her seemed to control the flow of the conversation, the room, and perhaps even the entire world outside. Salome may have been a princess, but Semiramis was a force to be reckoned with.
The two women, whose names alone carried weight in this world, had met before. They had crossed paths in the Magic Tower and at countless formal functions where both were celebrated for their beauty and power. But beneath the surface, they were enemies, each vying for control, each secretly plotting the other's downfall. They had learned how to coexist in a delicate dance of politeness, but the daggers they both carried—metaphorical or not—were never far from their minds.
"Welcome, Salome," Semiramis said, her voice smooth as silk, but tinged with an underlying edge that only Salome could sense. "I have missed your presence." The words sounded warm, yet to the discerning ear, they were almost too sweet.
Salome smiled, a delicate curve of her lips that never fully reached her eyes. She stood and walked over to embrace Semiramis in a gesture that could have been mistaken for affection—if one didn't know the true history between them.
"Thank you for the welcome, Semiramis," Salome said, her voice rich with honeyed tones. "I know you have been busy, but I wished to talk. It has been far too long."
As she pulled back from the hug, there was a flicker of something darker in Salome's eyes, a brief flash of envy. I could tear your face off in an instant, if only you weren't so useful. It was a thought she kept carefully hidden beneath the surface, masked by the playful smile she wore.
Semiramis's smile remained in place, though there was no mistaking the cold calculation behind her gaze. "I will always have time for you," she replied, her voice as smooth as velvet.
Without another word, she gestured toward the table where refreshments were laid out—teas, sweets, and delicacies that had been arranged with the utmost care. This room, unlike the public spaces of the palace, was their sanctuary. No servants were allowed inside, and the quiet hum of the world outside seemed to disappear the moment the doors closed. It was here, behind closed doors, that the true nature of their relationship could come to light—full of veiled threats, quiet manipulation, and the barely suppressed desire to outwit each other.
As they took their seats, Salome helped herself to a plate of sweets, selecting the ones that she had no doubt were the most decadent. She took a bite of one delicately, savoring the sweetness of the confection before answering Semiramis's unspoken question.
"I'm sure you have more important matters to attend to, but it is always a pleasure to speak with you," she said, her voice betraying nothing of her true thoughts. To an outsider, it would sound like a sincere compliment, but for anyone who knew her well, it was a statement laced with bitterness.
Semiramis, ever the master of reading between the lines, didn't miss the undertone. She lifted her cup of tea and took a slow sip before setting it down with a quiet clink. "I'm always willing to lend an ear to someone of your stature," she replied, her words dripping with the politeness of royalty. "But tell me, Salome, is there something specific on your mind?"
Salome's eyes narrowed slightly as she took another sweet. Her face, ever the picture of composure, betrayed nothing of the storm raging within. I will be Empress. I will see to it that my brother doesn't take the throne. I will destroy anyone who dares stand in my way—especially you, Semiramis.
The two women, despite their outward civility, each knew exactly where they stood. Salome had her ambitions, and Semiramis had her own. But in this game, only one could emerge victorious. And for now, they were both content to bide their time, knowing that when the moment came, they would each strike with the ferocity of a predator.
"I'm sure you could use a little more help from me," Semiramis continued, her tone soft but laced with the promise of hidden agendas. "What is it that brings you to me today, Princess? Surely, it's not just a visit for old times' sake."
Salome met her gaze, a flicker of something almost unreadable in her eyes. "Ah, Semiramis," she purred. "You always know when I'm being coy. I suppose you could say I have... a few concerns about certain matters." Her smile deepened, a smile that held no warmth.
The Duchess leaned forward, intrigued but cautious. "Do tell," she said, her voice taking on a more measured tone. "What concerns are those, Princess?"
-----------------------------
"I must say," Salome began with a smile as delicate as a dagger's tip, "the exploration of Pandora is drawing near. And word has it—my dear brother intends to grace the mission with his presence."
There was a flicker in Semiramis's dark eyes, a glint of recognition—of understanding. The meaning beneath the words was not lost on her. The Crown Prince would be far from the capital. Vulnerable. Exposed.
"I do hope his journey is filled with enlightenment," she replied, a smile ghosting her lips. "And you, dear Salome? Will you accompany him?"
Salome tilted her head, letting a soft laugh escape as she sliced a delicate bite from the cake in front of her, her fingers as graceful as a dancer's.
"Perhaps not. I was thinking of sending Sigurd instead. He has a certain… talent for retrieval. And Pandora, after all, is whispered to be home to ancient forests and the elusive Fair Folk. If I'm lucky," she said with a wistful sigh, "I might even acquire a dragon of my own—just like my brother."
Her tone was light, but her gaze sharpened at Semiramis's reaction. It was a probing strike hidden in lace.
Semiramis, however, only chuckled softly, pouring more tea with the finesse of a queen at a royal banquet.
"I believe it's a rare opportunity—for my territory, of course. I shall be joining the expedition in person. And while I'm there, I'll assist your knight in collecting anything… unique."
'I will ensure he dies the way heroes are remembered—dramatically and conveniently.'
Salome clapped her hands together gently, delight dancing in her expression.
"Wonderful. You've always had such… vision, Semiramis. I look forward to seeing the fruits of your ambition bloom."
'And perhaps bury you beneath them.'
"You flatter me, dear princess. I shall make something you can be proud of."
'Proud enough to weep when it crumbles and takes you with it.'
Salome leaned forward then, her expression growing curious. "Speaking of admirable men… How was your experience with Arthur?"
Ah, Arthur. The name rolled through the room like a gust of fresh mountain air—noble, untouchable, and far too good for the likes of either of them.
Semiramis smiled, a calculated flicker of admiration crossing her face.
"A true King. A man of principle and command. He inspires one to improve."
Salome's eyes twinkled. "A rare breed, indeed. Though I must admit—he didn't stir anything in me. Not the way I'd hoped. Still… perhaps it's simply not my time."
Her voice trailed into something wistful, and Semiramis noted the gleam of something far colder beneath the warmth in her tone.
'She would take him if she could, married or not. But men like Arthur don't fall for pretty snakes.'
"I wonder," Salome continued playfully, "have you found someone? Or does the Duchess still reign unclaimed?"
Semiramis gave a demure chuckle. "Alas, the right time has not yet come. My focus remains on my people."
"You mustn't wait too long, Semi. Life is sweeter with someone at your side."
"Then let it be our pact," Semiramis replied, raising her teacup in mock toast. "When you find yours, I'll find mine."
Salome giggled, leaning back, the jewels on her dress catching the light like stars in a charmed sky.
'Mistress,' a whisper brushed Semiramis's thoughts as William's voice reached her through the rune inscribed in her earring. 'The young men have accepted the offer.'
'Excellent,' she replied without breaking expression. 'Keep them entertained. I will join you shortly.'
"I would love to meet your staff," Salome said, standing suddenly. Her voice was light, but Semiramis caught the command within. "Your name is always paired with excellent company. Won't you introduce me?"
The Duchess's smile didn't falter, though her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Of course. I would be honoured."
She rose, gliding towards the hallway that led to the main wing. As she moved, her thoughts turned swiftly—calculating, cautious.
Salome wanted to see. Assess. Judge. She was searching for weakness… or perhaps for someone to steal.
But Semiramis would only show her what she wished to be seen—Achilles with his effortless charm, William with his noble bearing.
The true weapons—Jacky, the Assassin Core, the monstrous being bred in her secret fortress—they would remain shadows, just as intended.
Let the princess look. Let her admire.
In the end, she would only see the garden.
Never the thorns.