Six hours. Six straight hours of the world blurring past the tinted windows of a Rolls Royce. You'd think I'd be bored out of my skull, but honestly, it was almost peaceful. The quiet hum of the engine, the feel of the ridiculously soft leather seat, the silent, efficient presence of our driver… this was a different kind of life, and I was getting used to it way too fast.
Across from me, Nari Han was a picture of serene focus. She hadn't said much for the last hour, her striking grey eyes glued to the glowing screen of a tablet that probably cost more than my old apartment. The private jet had been one thing, but this convoy of black sedans, a silent, deadly serpent winding its way through the countryside? This was another level entirely.
I watched the landscape change, the polished steel and glass of the city giving way to rolling hills and then to dense, untamed forests. The road got rougher, the smooth asphalt turning to packed earth and gravel. The Rolls Royce didn't even seem to notice.
Nari finally looked up from her tablet, a small, thoughtful frown on her doll-like features. "'The Serpent's Coil,'" she murmured, reading the name of our current path aloud. Her voice, as always, was a smooth, enchanting melody. "An apt name. Look at the map. One road in, one road out. This valley is a fortress by design."
I glanced at the winding, treacherous path ahead, the trees pressing in on us like a silent, watchful army. "Or a cage," I replied, the thought coming to me unbidden.
Nari tilted her head, a flicker of that sharp, analytical curiosity glinting in her eyes. "An interesting distinction. We'll soon find out which it is, won't we?"
The car rounded one last, sharp bend, and the dense canopy of trees suddenly fell away. The world just… opened up. I instinctively reached forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. "Stop here for a second."
The car came to a smooth halt at the edge of the overlook. And for the first time in a long, long time, I was genuinely, completely speechless.
"Wow," was all I could manage to say.
Before us, the valley of Triveria unfolded like a secret, painted masterpiece. It was a perfect, vibrant bowl of life, held in the gentle, imposing cradle of three massive mountain ranges. The sight was breathtaking, the kind of beautiful that makes your chest ache.
"It's more than beautiful, Adam," Nari said, her voice a low, appreciative hum, though I could tell her mind was already calculating, analyzing. "It's a perfectly self-sufficient ecosystem. Look."
Her slender finger pointed down at the valley floor, which was a patchwork quilt of impossible, vivid color. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before.
"It's incredible," I agreed, my eyes tracing the patterns. "It's like someone stitched it together. That brilliant emerald green next to that shimmering, silvery-white…"
"The green is rice paddies and vegetable farms," Nari deduced, her voice all business now. "The white must be the vast mulberry groves for their sericulture—silk farming. And those splashes of crimson and yellow... that's the horticulture. Prized blooms for luxury export. They're not just surviving here, Adam. They're thriving. This place is rich."
The driver, sensing our awe had been satisfied, began the slow descent into the valley. As we got closer, the village itself came into focus, nestled right at the dramatic, churning heart where three great rivers met.
"So that's the Triverian Heart," I said, pointing to the swirling water.
"Indeed," Nari confirmed, glancing at her tablet again. "Where the wild, roaring Graniteflow from the north crashes into the slow, green Serpentis from the west. And then they're joined by the deep, mystical blue of the Aetherstream from the east. Three completely different forces, all meeting in one place. There's a metaphor in there somewhere, don't you think?"
I just smiled. "I'm more interested in that bridge," I said, nodding towards the majestic, three-arched stone structure that spanned the confluence. "It looks ancient."
"Everything here looks ancient," Nari observed as our convoy finally rolled into the village proper. The car moved slowly down the main street, drawing curious but guarded looks from the locals. They were dressed in simple, handmade clothes, their faces weathered by the sun, their eyes full of a deep, unshakable suspicion. "The cottages are built from river stone and dark timber, with slate roofs. Completely integrated with their environment. The reports said the people here are fiercely protective of their seclusion."
She turned to me, her expression shifting from analytical to strategic. "Which brings us back to my original question. Why would three legendary, cosmopolitan designers hide themselves away in a perfect, impenetrable sanctuary like this?"
"Maybe they were tired of the outside world," I suggested, my gaze drifting over the tendrils of woodsmoke curling from a hundred chimneys.
"Or terrified of it," Nari countered, her voice dropping, a hint of a warning in its depths. She looked me straight in the eye, her expression serious. "The intel mentioned a 'fragile peace just waiting to be shattered'. I don't think we're the only ones who know the Sterling sisters are hiding here."
My easy smile faded, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. I looked out at the peaceful, thriving village, at the children laughing near the riverbank, and I could feel a familiar darkness lurking just beyond the mountain peaks.
"Then we'd better make our move," I said, my voice a low, dangerous hum. "Before someone else decides to shatter it for them."
Our convoy came to a halt in the center of the village square. The moment the car doors opened, the fragile peace shattered. It started with a single, angry shout, then another, and then the entire village seemed to descend on us. They weren't just suspicious anymore; they were hostile. A crude barricade of carts and logs was already being dragged across the road behind us, cutting off our only escape route.
A voice crackled over the comms unit in the car. "Mr. Wilson, Miss Han, we have a situation. The villagers are refusing to let us proceed. They believe we are a threat."
A hailstorm of rocks and bricks suddenly rained down on our convoy. The five cars in front of ours had their windows spiderwebbed in an instant. A few heavy stones thudded against our Rolls Royce, but the bulletproof glass didn't even flinch.
"They say if we want to talk to the Sterling triplets, we have to go through them," the bodyguard's voice continued, a note of frustration in his tone. "They say the sisters are their family, their idols. They won't let anyone harm them."
I looked at Nari. A slow, dangerous smile was spreading across her face. "Looks like our meeting isn't going to be easy."
"I have a plan," she said, her grey eyes glinting with a cold, tyrannical light that sent a shiver of pure, unadulterated excitement down my spine.
I just grinned back at her. "Okay, then. Ladies first."
We both got out of the car. The shouting of the villagers faltered for a second as they took in the sight of us. Nari, in her elegant, powerful outfit, and me, in my own tailored suit. We walked side-by-side, a silent, powerful duo, and I could feel our collective aura, the sheer weight of our presence, pushing back against their chaotic anger. It felt like we were a royal couple arriving to address a peasant uprising.
We stopped in front of the angriest-looking of the bunch, a grumpy old man with a face like a clenched fist and a heavy wooden staff in his hand.
"Can you please let us pass?" I asked, my voice polite, trying the Sama approach first. "We just want to talk with the Sterling sisters. We mean them no harm. In fact, we're here for their benefit."
The old man just spat on the ground. "We don't believe you, city-slicker," he snarled. "You rich bastards are all the same. You just want to use them, hurt our idols. If you want to meet them, you'll have to go over our dead bodies."
Nari stepped forward then, her expression a mask of sweet, condescending reason. This was Dama. "Listen to me," she said, her voice a smooth, enchanting melody. "We are willing to offer you anything you desire. Wealth, resources. We can build new houses for all of you, a new school for your children. Just state your demand."
Her offer was met with a fresh wave of fury. They saw it not as a gift, but as an insult. A young man with more anger than sense pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "We don't want your dirty money!" he screamed, and with a grunt of effort, he hurled a jagged piece of brick directly at Nari's face.
The coward.
My body moved before I even thought. I was a blur of motion. I spun, pulling Nari into my arms, shielding her with my own body, and my other hand shot out, snatching the brick out of the air just inches from her head. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and a dawning, profound awe.
My blood was boiling.
Nari's internal thought: He's fast. Impossibly fast. And… he protected me. Without a second thought. Interesting.
But her own shock was quickly consumed by a cold, silent fury. "Looks like they don't understand human language," she said to me, her voice a low, chilling whisper. She gave a single, almost imperceptible signal to one of the bodyguards. He disappeared into one of the cars and returned a moment later, carrying a customized, matte-black DP-12 double-barreled shotgun.
She took the weapon, her movements fluid and practiced. The way she held it, the way she checked the chamber—she wasn't a student anymore. She was a soldier. She was a queen.
With a sharp, satisfying clack-clack, she reloaded and fired a single, deafening blast into the sky.
The villagers screamed, stumbling back, their hands flying to their ears. The angry shouts were replaced by a new, profound silence, thick with fear.
Nari gazed at them, her doll-like features now a mask of cold, merciless authority. "Now," she said, her voice still quiet, but carrying clearly in the sudden quiet. "What say you? I will tell you once more. Give me that arrogant boy who threw the stone, and give us a clear path. Otherwise, the next shot will find a new home. In someone's head."
The air grew colder. I was genuinely impressed. This was the Danda, the path of force. She was ruthless. A true queen.
An old woman, her face a defiant mask of wrinkles, stepped forward. "We are not scared of you, little girl!"
Nari just smiled, a chilling, beautiful expression that held no warmth, no mercy. She gave another signal.
And then, the world changed.
From behind the convoy of cars, forty-two men in sharp, black tactical gear emerged, moving with a silent, military precision. They fanned out, forming a perfect, intimidating line. In their hands, they held M416 assault rifles, the sun glinting off the polished barrels. Two of them carried M249 light machine guns, their presence a promise of overwhelming, catastrophic firepower. The clicks of forty-two safeties being disengaged were the only sound in the silent square.
Nari gave the villagers a death stare, her grey eyes like chips of ice. "Last chance," she said, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "Think once more before you speak. Because I am not scared of your government or your police. My mother is one of the most powerful politicians in this country. And she has already hidden so many of our family's crimes. One more village massacre? It won't even make the morning news."
Her words were a pure, unadulterated threat. This was Bheda, the path of the serpent, the art of destroying your enemy's will without firing another shot. And it worked.
The defiance in the old woman's eyes crumbled, replaced by a raw, primal terror. The entire village seemed to shrink in on itself, the angry mob now just a collection of scared, broken people. The old man who had first defied me pointed a trembling finger at the boy who had thrown the stone. "We are so sorry, masters," he cried, his voice cracking with fear. "We were not able to see your greatness. Please, forgive us. He is the one who threw the stone. Do whatever you want with him."
A bodyguard grabbed the kid and dragged him forward, dropping him at our feet. He was a mess, sobbing, snot and tears running down his face. He was terrified. I could see the pure, mind-breaking terror of Nari's aura reflected in his eyes. "I'm sorry, ma'am! Please, I'm so sorry!" he pleaded.
Nari just looked down at him, the shotgun still held loosely in her hand. She slowly raised it, pressing the cold, hard steel of the barrel against his forehead.
"Any last wishes?" she asked, her voice a sweet, curious, and utterly terrifying sound. "Other than, of course, letting you live."
I was amused. Seriously. She was a demon. A true, beautiful, terrifying demon. The scene was epic. A schoolgirl, no older than twenty, holding a village hostage with a shotgun and an army, calmly asking a terrified boy for his last wish. It was amazing. I didn't do anything. I didn't say anything. I was just watching, captivated by her. The boy was literally begging for his life, but her face was a mask of pure, cold indifference. No sympathy. Every single villager was scared of her. But not me.
I thought, This. This is the empress every emperor needs.
The way she handled everything, from the failed diplomacy to the overwhelming show of force, it was terrifyingly, beautifully amusing. She was the perfect queen for my new kingdom.