Chapter 33: Don’t provoke Damian (3)

[WARNING - GORE, VIOLENCE]

Damian's golden eyes flicked to Astana, a silent command in their depths. Astana nodded, stepping forward to handle the necessary next steps.

"Count Ebon," Astana said calmly, his voice breaking through the thick silence. "You are hereby relieved of your position as Minister, effective immediately. Your actions have jeopardized not only the success of the Ashmont project but also demonstrated a flagrant disregard for imperial authority."

Damian made a sign to give him the next assigned task, refusing to discuss it further with the man in front of him.

Julian's forced composure began to crack as Astana's words sliced through the room. His knuckles whitened on the armrests, but his voice remained defiant, though tinged with desperation.

"Your Majesty," Julian began, a hollow smile curving his lips, "you have made your point, but there is a reason I am Minister. You may have a strong presence, but surely you do not think I can be replaced so easily." He leaned forward, his voice turning icy. "The Ashmont project is a matter of nuance, not haste. "Not even your 'Audit Office' will comprehend it as well as I do."

Damian remained unfazed. His golden eyes were hard and unreadable, but the silence between them stretched.

Julian continued, encouraged by the lack of immediate response. "You really think you can control every aspect of this empire, don't you? You have made enemies of far more important people than me." He stood slowly, his back straight. "I'm not afraid of your little games, Damian. You may have power now, but how long until the throne crumbles beneath your feet? Perhaps your grip on it is not as strong as you think."

Astana felt a cold sweat form on the back of his neck. Julian's words were reckless, even dangerous. He wanted to warn him, but it was too late; Damian's gaze never left the Count.

Damian's lips parted, but his expression was one of quiet amusement rather than anger. "Do you think I am so fragile, Julian? That I would be distracted by your threats? "You misunderstand the nature of power."

'Fuck this.' Astana thought while his hands gripped one of the reports he was working on before. His chest was tight from anxiety. 'I am going to see something horrible today. Fuck!'

Julian smirked. "I mistake nothing, Your Majesty. I have noticed flaws in your rule, and I am not alone." His voice became louder and more insistent. "This empire was founded on the backs of men like me. Men who understand the rules of the game. But what do you know? You didn't build it. You simply took it from us by force."

'For the love of God, shut the hell up!' Astana yelled at the man in his head; he would heard enough stories from his father to predict how Damian would react. All of his calm was a ruse, and it would come crashing down soon. Astana shuddered at the thought. 

Damian's chair creaked softly as he leaned forward, the slow movement making Julian's confidence falter. His golden eyes grew darker. "You speak of playing games, Julian. But you've forgotten that I am not playing. I'm ruling." His voice dropped, becoming low and dangerous. "And the first rule of ruling is to ensure that those who challenge me never live to regret their actions."

Julian's eyes flicked nervously toward Astana, hoping for an ally, but there was nothing but cold indifference in the air. Astana had already turned away, his back rigid, refusing to participate in what was quickly turning into an execution.

"You can not kill me, Damian," Julian sneered, his confidence returning. "You need me for my connections and influence. Without me, you will be nothing more than an emperor with no power."

Damian chuckled darkly, and the sound echoed throughout the room. "You still do not get it, Julian?" I don't need you. Not now, not ever." He stood suddenly, his boots clicking loudly on the marble floor. "The only thing you have left to bargain for is your life. But that, too, is slipping through your fingers."

Julian's jaw clenched, but he held his ground. "Do you think you have won? You have yet to see the full extent of the consequences of your decisions. My allies will—"

Damian's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Your allies have grown tired of your incompetence, Julian. That's why I'm here, dealing with you. They have abandoned you. Now, I'm the only one who gets to decide what happens next."

The count opened his mouth, but no words came out. His earlier defiance had withered under the weight of Damian's cold certainty. He could not muster enough strength to finish his sentence.

Damian moved closer, towering over Julian. "You had your chance. You've wasted it." He turned to Astana without looking back at the trembling man behind him. "Ensure that Count Ebon is removed from office immediately. Make certain that no records of his tenure are left untouched. Let the Audit Office do their work."

Julian staggered away, his face flushed with rage and humiliation. "You can't do this!" he spat. "You—"

His words were cut short by his own scream. Damian snapped his fingers, and Julian's eyes exploded with a small pop, blood dripping down his screaming face. 

Astana was shocked by the sudden events; he couldn't take his eyes off the man screaming. He was clutching his empty sockets on his face, and blood was soaking into his silk white shirt and dripping onto the marble floor. He had not expected anything like that; sure, he was prepared to program the Count's execution, but this... 

Captain Decker was already calling the soldiers to ensure that the noise was quieted, and he pitied the young secretary. Damian had kept his temper under control until now, but old blood nobles never knew when to stop.

"You didn't seem to need them." Said the Emperor with a smile that could be felt even in his words.