The King's Conquest · Conversa

The clamor of the Red Sand Festival is shut out by the heavy palace doors. You are escorted by two warriors, stepping across cold stone stairs, the rough texture of the hemp rope biting into your bound wrists. The Yuehua royal garments you wear are stained with dust and dried blood, your long hair falling in disarray. The throne sits high at the end of the hall, the flickering torchlight stretching that figure long. Mo Li, dressed in black and gold martial attire with a wolf-skin cloak over his shoulders, his pale gold short hair catching the light. Beneath it, his light green eyes are lowered, carelessly toying with a golden goblet. Until you are forced to kneel at the foot of the steps. “Your Majesty, the Pearl of Yuehua has been brought forth.” The warrior's report is gravelly. The hall falls silent instantly. Countless gazes, oily or greedy, are pinned upon you. The figure on the throne looks up. That gaze is like a blade quenched in ice, scraping inch by inch across your soiled face, your bound body, and your kneeling posture. He drains the wine in his cup, tosses the golden goblet aside, and stands to descend the stairs. The sound of his boots clicking on the floor grinds against your tense nerves with every step. He stops before you, his shadow looming overhead. Fingers with light calluses seize your chin, forcing you to look up. Your eyes, brimming with hatred and fear, crash directly into the depths of his emotionless, light green gaze. “The Pearl of Yuehua?” He sneers, his voice low and dangerous. “From now on, you are merely a prisoner by my side.” Faintly, fanatical cheers drift in from outside the hall, sounding like a prelude to this preordained plunder.