Chapter 1
The great iron doors of the throne room groaned as they were hauled open, letting the howling wind and rain from outside bleed into the cavernous hall. Roxy sat perched upon the obsidian throne, high above the stone floor, her left hand resting casually against the pommel of her crossguard sword. The rhythmic, heavy thrum of her gothic march echoed faintly off the vaulted ceilings, low and vibrating through the marrow of everyone in the room.
Down below, two armored citizens dragged a ragged, trembling homeless man across the polished black stone, tossing him roughly to the foot of the dais. The man hit the ground hard, his dirty hands clawing at the stone, too terrified to lift his head toward the shadowy figure above.
“We found him stealing food, my Empress,” one of the guards declared, dropping to one knee with his head bowed low. “He was caught taking bread from the lower district rations.”
Silence fell over the court, thick and suffocating. Roxy didn’t immediately speak. The faint glow of purple embers seemed to flicker behind her dark eyes as she tilted her head slightly, her gaze piercing through the dim hall like a honed dagger. The entire room held its breath, waiting for the Empress to deliver her judgment.
“speak pesant” Roxy said to the homeless man
The single command cut through the dead air of the throne room like the edge of her blade, sharp and devoid of warmth.
The homeless man shrank lower against the cold obsidian floor, his entire body trembling so violently that his ragged clothes rustled against the stone. He dared not look up into the shadowy heights where Roxy sat, but he swallowed hard, his cracked voice barely carrying over the distant rumble of thunder.
“M-Mercy, Your Highness... my Empress,” he stammered, coughing weakly into his dirt-caked sleeves. “I haven’t eaten in three days. The cold was setting in, the lower district bins were empty... I only took a crust from the cart. I meant no disrespect to your crown.”
The two guards flanking him shifted, their armor clinking in the stillness, waiting for the word that would seal his fate. Above them all, Roxy leaned forward on the throne, the purple glow in the hall catching the cruel steel of her crossguard sword as she weighed the beggar’s words against the absolute law of her realm.
“You haven’t eaten in 3 days. I sent a bin of free food, did I not?” Roxy said to the guards
The guards froze instantly, the blood draining from their faces beneath their dark iron helms. A heavy, suffocating tension snapped across the grand hall as my voice cut through the shadows, sharper than any blade.
The guard on the left lowered his head even further, his knuckles turning white against the cold obsidian floor as he fought to find his words.
“Y-Yes, my Empress,” he stammered, his voice trembling under the sudden scrutiny. “The shipment was dispatched as ordered... but the district supervisors—they claimed the supply line was delayed at the outer gate.”
A dangerous silence hung in the air. Roxy leaned slightly forward on her throne, the faint purple fire in the sconces reflecting off the edge of her crossguard sword as her gaze shifted from the beggar straight onto the two armored men kneeling below.
“Delayed?” Roxy’s voice dropped to a cold, venomous whisper that echoed off every Gothic pillar. “Or kept for themselves while my people starve in the dirt?”
The two guards exchanged a panicked, sideways glance, realizing the crosshairs had just shifted entirely from the thief on the floor to the men who failed to deliver her command.
She sighed. “Guards, feed this man and bring me the supervisors; actually, I put Alanyna in charge; drag her here in front of me this instant,” RoXy said
The guards didn’t hesitate for a single second. The sheer dread in Roxy’s voice had them scrambling to their feet, bowing so low their armor rattled before one of them gently hauled the trembling homeless man up and led him toward the royal kitchens.
“At once, my Empress!” the second guard barked, signaling the outer hall sentries as the heavy iron doors groaned open once more.
Within minutes, the echo of frantic scuffling echoed down the stone corridor. Two towering enforcers dragged Alanyna into the throne room, forcing her to her knees right where the beggar had just been. Her fine, silk-lined robes were disheveled, and the arrogance that usually marked her face had evaporated into pure, wide-eyed terror.
“My Empress!” Alanyna choked out, pressing her forehead directly against the freezing black stone. “I-I can explain! The logistics—the lower district records were miscalculated—”
The low, menacing bass of Roxy’s dark theme seemed to thrum heavier through the walls. Roxy slowly rose from the obsidian throne, her crossguard blade gripped firmly in her left hand, the steel scraping lightly against the steps as she looked down at the supervisor who dared hoard her supplies.
“Miscalculated?” Roxy’s voice was deathly calm, every syllable dripping with icy malice. “You were given one simple duty, Alanyna. Give me a single reason why your head shouldn’t roll across this court before the storm ends.”
“I’m sorry, my empress. It won’t happen again,” she said. Roxy looked at the citizens. “Should she be given a second chance?” she yelled as she heard her citizens give her an answer
The cavernous hall erupted in an instant roar of conflicting shouts, the voices of dozens of citizens echoing off the towering gothic arches.
“No mercy for thieves!” a gruff laborer shouted from the front row, thrusting a calloused fist into the air. “She hoarded our bread while our children starved!”
“Strip her of her title and throw her in the dungeons!” another yelled, while a few trembling voices in the back pleaded for exile instead of blood. The overwhelming tide of the crowd was clear—fury and betrayal burned through the court, every eye glued to the trembling supervisor pinned beneath the Empress’s gaze.
Alanyna shrank against the black stone, sobbing openly as the weight of the court’s hatred crashed down on her.
Roxy raised a single gloved hand, and the room snapped into dead, suffocating silence once more. Not a single breath dared interrupt her. The tip of her crossguard sword tapped against the top obsidian step, a sharp, ringing sound that sent a cold shiver down Alanyna’s spine.
“You hear that, Alanyna?” Roxy’s voice purred, smooth, dark, and utterly ruthless. “My people have spoken.”
“Send her to the dungeon,” Roxy said
Two heavy-armored enforcers stepped forward instantly, seizing Alanyna under her arms and hauling her off the floor.
“No! My Empress, please! Have mercy!” Alanyna shrieked, kicking wildly as her polished boots dragged against the slick black stone. Her desperate pleas echoed through the vaulted arches, bouncing off the dark pillars until the heavy iron dungeon doors slammed shut behind her, cutting off the noise with a hollow, booming thud.
A low, approving murmur swept through the assembled citizens before dying down into respectful silence. Roxy stood at the top of the dais, the dark cape draped over her shoulders catching the draft from the storm outside. She slid her crossguard sword smoothly into its scabbard with a crisp metallic click.
The court remained still, waiting for the Empress to deliver her next decree over the lower district’s leadership.
“The rest of you go and feed yourselves,” Roxy commanded, her voice ringing clear and steady through the massive chamber.
The crowd of citizens bowed their heads in deep reverence, murmuring words of gratitude and awe before hastily turning toward the grand exit. The heavy tension that had gripped the hall began to dissolve, replaced by the swift shuffle of boots and the hum of relief as people flooded out into the courtyards toward the supply stores.
The towering iron doors groaned shut once more, cutting off the howling wind and leaving only the quiet crackle of the purple-lit sconces against the black stone walls.
Roxy stood alone above the grand hall for a brief moment, her dark silhouette framed by the towering throne behind her. She turned and descended the obsidian steps, the hem of her dark coat sweeping behind her, before looking back toward the shadows near the royal pillar where I stood observing the whole spectacle.
From the high archway behind the throne, a figure stepped out from the clinging gloom. He walked with a swagger that didn’t belong in a formal court, the polished brass buckles and weathered leather of his coat creaking with every measured stride.
“Hello, sister. I see your heart is still good,” Pirate said, a wry, knowing grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as she leaned casually against a carved gargoyle pillar.
Roxy’s eyes narrowed instantly, the faint purple embers within them flaring with cold fury. Her left hand drifted back toward the hilt of her crossguard sword, her stance stiffening as the room’s temperature seemed to drop several degrees.
“Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness,” Roxy hissed, her voice cutting through the damp air like a whip. “I am dark and evil. I feed my people so they have the strength to build my empire, fear my law, and march under my banner—not out of sentiment.”
Pirate chuckled softly, folding her arms over her chest as thunder cracked overhead, illuminating the fierce, unyielding scowl on the Empress’s face.
“Call it whatever you like, Your Dark Majesty,” Pirate replied, tapping her boots against the stone. “The citizens call it salvation, the supervisors call it terror, and I call it good business. But you and I both know the lower districts aren’t the only ones watching your moves tonight.”
Pirate pushed off the carved stone pillar with effortless, nonchalant grace, oversized dark streetwear-style layers draping over her frame beneath a battered leather captain’s duster. Her heavy-lidded gaze flicked across the obsidian hall, totally unfazed by the oppressive gothic architecture or the dark imperial march still humming beneath the floorboards.
“Always straight to the point, aren’t you?” Pirate said in a low, whispery rasp, adjusting the heavy silver rings on her fingers. A faint, knowing smirk played on her lips as she took two slow, relaxed steps down the dais toward Roxy.
“State your business, Pirate,” Roxy repeated, her voice dripping with ice, refusing to let her sibling’s laid-back demeanor break her ruthless composure.
Pirate stopped a few paces away, tilting her head slightly as the lightning outside flashed against the stained-glass windows, illuminating the sharp, shadowy angles of her face.
“Outer perimeter trade routes,” Pirate murmured, her tone quiet but carrying a weight that demanded attention. “The Northern Syndicate caught wind of the mess in your lower districts. They think your grip is slipping, sister. They’ve got three convoys moving along the border waters tonight, loaded with black-market contraband and enough firepower to fund an uprising.”
Pirate folded her arms, her dark, piercing eyes locking dead onto Roxy’s.
“I’m here to offer you the coordinates. We intercept them at the docks, crush their little rebellion before it starts, and split the haul down the middle. What do you say, Empress?”
“You know what, I love the middle name of yours, pirate; it suits you. Glad your real-life parents gave it to you,” Roxy said
Pirate let out a low, raspy chuckle, shaking her head as a faint smirk broke through her cool expression. She adjusted the heavy silver chain around her neck, totally amused by Roxy dropping the fourth-wall jab right in the middle of the throne room.
“Yeah, well, real life handed me the name, but I made it a whole brand,” Pirate said in her signature whispery drawl, leaning back casually against the obsidian rail. “Gotta give credit where it’s due—it definitely beats walking around with something boring. Fits the job description out on the dark waters a lot better.”
Roxy scoffed lightly, though the edge of her mouth twitched with a hint of dark amusement. She rested her left hand firmly back on the crossguard pommel, maintaining her intimidating stance on the steps.
“Don’t get too comfortable just because you like the sound of your own name,” Roxy reminded her, her tone sharp and regal once more. “We’re talking about three Syndicate convoys moving on my border. What’s the plan for the docks, Pirate?”
“Well, my crew have the black pearl 2 “Pirate said. “Wait, the Black Pearl 2 oh no,” Roxy said. “What?” Pirate said. “What did I say about copying Disney?” RoXy said
Pirate blinked, looking completely unimpressed as she rolled her eyes and stuffed her hands into the deep pockets of her oversized duster.
“Oh, come on,” Pirate murmured in that effortless, deadpan rasp. “It’s got a two at the end. That makes it a totally different vessel. Upgraded dark iron hull, twin-rigged purple sails, heavy gothic cannons—it’s original enough.”
“Original my foot!” Roxy snapped, stepping down another obsidian stair, the steel of her crossguard sword rattling against her hip. “First Kylo Ren’s crossguard, now Jack Sparrow’s entire fleet? Did you forget Corbin is writing this under his real name? We’re trying to publish a standalone masterpiece, not get hit with a cease-and-desist from the mouse before Chapter Two even drops!”
Pirate let out a dry, breathy laugh, tilting her head back against the stone column. “Fine, fine. Don’t blow a fuse, Empress. What do you want me to call it then? The Shadow Galleon? The Obsidian Pearl? Pick a name so we can go sink these Syndicate convoys before the tide turns.”
Roxy crossed her arms, tapping her black-lacquered nail against her elbow as she thought it over, the purple flames in the sconces flaring with dark ambition.
“The Nightmare’s Revenge,” Roxy declared coldly. “Dark, terrifying, and completely lawsuit-free. Tell your crew to ready the cannons. Tonight, we paint the docks black.”
Thunder boomed in the distance, echoing off the high stone arches as the final words hung in the air. The heavy draft swept through the throne room, extinguishing the lowest row of purple torch flames and plunging the hall into a deep, cinematic shadow.
Roxy stood tall on the obsidian steps, her dark cape trailing behind her, while Pirate pushed off the pillar with a sharp, wicked grin, ready to lead the way to the water’s edge.
End of Chapter 1
