The Tyrant Is A Little Bit Kind

(Third Person POV)

Year 2032, July 16, according to the Global Calendar.

In the Eastern Empire—formally known as the Empire of Avaron—amidst its diverse landscapes, dense forests, and sprawling coasts, stood its capital: the city of Avaron.

Despite its advanced infrastructure and modern beauty, the capital remained one of the smallest cities in the entire empire, both in area and population. The reason was simple but significant: only members of the imperial family and the noble class were permitted to reside there. This restriction made it a sanctuary of elitism—a haven of extravagance and opulence—where men and women walked its marble-paved streets with pride, flaunting their wealth, lineage, and status.

But behind the glittering façade, the Eastern Empire was ranked among the weakest empires on the global stage. Its weakness extended beyond its economy; it lacked military and magical might as well. In recent history, no warrior or mage had ever reached the prestigious rank of Grandmaster—a level considered the true measure of power in this world.

Its economy, though stable, could not compete with the giants, and its military was modest at best compared to its neighbors. Yet, it was ruled by a hand that strived to maintain its stability.

At the heart of the capital stood the imperial palace—a majestic structure adorned with gold and encrusted with gemstones, echoing the grandeur of ancient kings. Within one of its lavish halls, inside the opulent throne room etched with traditional carvings, sat a grand throne gilded in pure gold, surrounded by marble columns that whispered tales of a glorious past.

Seated upon that throne was a man appearing to be in his early forties. His face was pale, his dark eyes heavy with the burden of responsibility. His thick orange hair was neatly styled, and atop his head rested a golden crown encrusted with diamonds—an undeniable symbol of royalty. In his right hand, he held a royal scepter, embedded with seven differently colored gemstones, each representing a domain of power or governance.

This man was Zilfan Avaron, the current Emperor of the Eastern Empire.

Zilfan was known among both nobles and commoners as "The Wise Emperor"—a title he earned for his foresight and rational decisions, despite lacking physical or magical strength. He was no mighty warrior, having only reached the level of a mid-tier swordsman, but he ruled with a sharp political mind, weighing his words carefully and knowing when to speak—and when to strike.

At this moment, his face was drawn with fatigue. A weary expression of grief and anxiety shadowed his features—understandable, as he was still mourning the loss of his son and heir, who had died just a few days prior.