Chapter Title: The Burden of Privilege
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Staff POV – The Rising Tide of Tension
The staff stood in silence as Christiana's figure retreated, the weight of the command settling over them like a thick fog. It was an overwhelming mix of honor and dread.
As the minutes ticked by, the realization hit every single one of them—this wasn't a mere ball. This was a test. A test that would determine their place in the world, under Chris Blackwood's reign.
For Amara, the young maid in the east wing, the invitation felt like a badge of honor. She had come from nothing, only recently promoted after years of scrubbing floors and washing dishes. Her family, poor as they were, would never have believed that she would walk through the same doors as the nobles and generals.
"I... I'm going to the Ball," she whispered to herself, holding the golden invitation in trembling hands. "I'm going to stand beside them. I'm going to... be seen."
But as the excitement began to settle, a wave of fear crept in.
What does he expect from me? Amara thought. What kind of gift can someone like me even give?
She glanced around at the others. The older staff—those who had seen more than one of the Supreme's birthdays—looked solemn. Their eyes said it all: This wasn't just an invitation. This was a demand.
At the far end of the courtyard, Kofi, one of the palace's senior engineers, adjusted his glasses, his mind racing. A hundred million just to attend? And now we have to bring gifts?
Kofi was no fool. He'd seen what happened to those who failed to meet Chris Blackwood's expectations. He had watched as men and women who had once held titles and positions of power were reduced to nothing for a simple misstep. One wrong move. One slight of disrespect.
He couldn't afford that. Not now. Not when he had worked his entire life to climb the ranks.
What would I give?
He thought of his family—his wife, his children. His savings had been spent maintaining the palace's tech systems. There was nothing left for such a grand gesture. His only option was to make something… valuable. Something the Supreme could never overlook.
Jasira, a former officer turned palace guard, shifted her stance nervously. As a warrior, she had always been used to demanding respect. She had earned her position through blood and sweat, her loyalty unquestionable.
But this—this was different.
"You saw that look in his eyes," she murmured to the guard next to her, a new recruit who was still wide-eyed with uncertainty. "Chris doesn't just accept any gift. It has to be worthy. A demonstration of loyalty. It has to show you're valuable to him."
The recruit nodded, clearly feeling the pressure. "I'm not sure what I could bring..."
Jasira gave him a tight, knowing smile. "We all have our part to play. But whatever you bring, don't make it small. Not when his eyes are on you."
But she was no fool either. Jasira knew she had to bring something extraordinary. Something that would prove her loyalty was more than just physical prowess. It had to show her worth—a gift of unquestionable value.
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Back at the center of the courtyard, Mica, one of the senior palace accountants, felt the cold sweat on his brow. He had seen the rise of Blackwood wealth, witnessed the empire's expansion into every corner of the globe. But now, he had to find a way to ensure he remained in the fold. His calculations were precise, but even his mind could not grasp the magnitude of the Supreme's expectations.
Should I offer riches?
His thoughts raced, but his stomach churned. No. Money was not enough. It had to be something beyond gold.
He saw his colleagues exchanging glances—those who had worked at Blackwood Industries for years. The ones who had been there before the Blackwood Empire expanded into the Union. Their experience in wealth was unchallenged, but even they seemed uneasy. The stakes were higher than they had ever been before.
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As the staff began to disperse, the weight of the Supreme's words echoed in their minds. The pressure to present themselves with the right gift was overwhelming.
Every servant, every maid, every soldier knew—this Ball would either elevate them or break them. There would be no middle ground.
Efe, the palace guard, clenched the invitation in his fist as his thoughts began to drift toward the night ahead.
If I fail to impress him—if I bring something beneath his expectations—I'll be nothing more than a shadow in the empire. Worse than nothing.
He thought of his family. His mother had fallen ill recently, and medical bills had drained his savings. Could he afford something worthy of the Supreme's attention?
No, he thought. It wasn't about money. It was about presence. It was about making a gift that would demand to be noticed. Something... important.
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The realization came to him as he stared at the invitation in his hand: If they weren't careful, if they didn't offer something monumental, they would all be nothing more than shadows at the mercy of the Supreme.
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Back inside the palace, as Christiana watched the staff scatter, she could see the shift in their posture. They had been reminded of the Empire's heart, its might, and its purpose. But now they were faced with the true test—the challenge of delivering something worthy of the Supreme.
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