Tea Time with the Emperor (1)
“Your Highness, a message from His Imperial Majesty the Emperor.”
The very next day, before I'd even finished digesting lunch, a summons arrived from the Emperor himself.
Amber, who had brought the message, approached me cautiously with a face taut with tension.
“He commands you to come in two hours' time, precisely at 3 p.m. He wishes to share a cup of tea with you...”
“Understood. I'll prepare. Where should I go?”
“...To the greenhouse under His Majesty's personal care. That's where he usually retreats for contemplation.”
Amber fidgeted, her lips twitching several times before she squeezed her eyes shut and pleaded.
“...Please, come back safely, Your Highness. I don't want our connection to end here either.”
“Pardon?”
“You know what I mean.”
“...I'll do my best to survive.”
I barely remember how the time passed after that.
I must have been more nervous than I'd ever been in this lifetime.
Fifteen minutes before 3 p.m., a middle-aged man in black attire arrived at my quarters and bowed his head.
“I've come to escort you, Your Highness.”
“Understood. Where to?”
“Just follow me.”
The man, who seemed to be one of the Emperor's trusted aides, led the way, guiding me deep into the Imperial Palace.
After navigating a labyrinth of corridors with countless turns, we arrived before a massive iron door.
“Enter through here.”
Just as he'd appeared out of nowhere, the man vanished in an instant.
As I lightly touched the heavy iron door, it slid open as if by magic. Beyond it unfolded a world utterly unlike the cold marble corridors of the palace.
“Whoa...”
It was a stunning greenhouse filled with the fresh, vibrant scents of exotic flowers and trees.
But I had no time to admire the enchanting scenery. The moment I spotted the lone man seated at the round table in the center, I could no longer see the place as beautiful.
...The Emperor!
I'd assumed the Emperor of the Empire would be surrounded by guards, but the greenhouse held only the two of us.
The Emperor, dressed in simple casual robes, set down his book as I approached and gestured with his chin to the empty chair opposite him.
“Sit.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
As I carefully took my seat, the Emperor personally lifted the teapot from the table.
He slowly poured a reddish tea into the empty cup before me.
“Lately, I've taken up brewing tea myself as a pastime. Calling for an attendant every time I sit here alone grew tiresome, so I started doing it myself—and it's surprisingly enjoyable.”
“I've heard that brewing tea properly is no simple task.”
“Indeed. A slight miscalculation in temperature or steeping time, and a bitter tang ruins the delicate aroma. It requires just the right attention, but it's not overly demanding. The perfect diversion for contemplation.”
The only sound breaking the greenhouse's silence was the hot tea filling the cup.
After offering a respectful nod to the Emperor, I quietly lifted my cup and took a sip. It was exquisite—intense fragrance followed by a lingering bitterness.
“How is it?”
“Very fragrant. A rare aroma I've never encountered before.”
“Leaves from the harsh northern mountains. Some call it harsh, but it suits my palate perfectly.”
“It suits mine as well, it seems.”
“Good taste. Do you know your teas?”
“I prefer chilled drinks, personally.”
“You'll get used to tea from now on. The Empire, regrettably, doesn't favor cold beverages.”
The conversation felt amicable enough on the surface, but the Emperor's purple eyes across from me held no warmth.
“You're wondering about it too, deep down. Why an empire with overwhelming might bothers dragging royal blood from enemy states here as hostages.”
The Emperor set down his cup and spoke in a languid tone.
“Do you think it's because we're afraid those puny southern kingdoms might band together in fear of our power and stab us in the back?”
“No, Your Majesty. Even if every southern kingdom united and staked their all, I know well they couldn't defeat the Empire's elite cavalry.”
What difference would a few more numbers make when three hundred had butchered five thousand like dogs? Coalitions were inherently weaker than unified forces, and raw numbers favored the Empire anyway.
The Emperor lightly stroked his chin beard at my composed reply.
“Precisely. To be frank, taking hostages is merely an old imperial pastime.”
“A pastime, you say?”
“Yes. Conquering territory requires only military might. But to extract swift, humiliating submission with minimal bloodshed? Nothing is cheaper or easier than holding the leash of a monarch's cherished bloodline.”
The Emperor leaned deeply back into his chair, staring straight at me.
“Of course, I had some personal curiosity too. What thoughts brew in the minds of those royal fools strutting about with their centuries-old traditions and 'blue blood.' What they truly know as rulers. Whether they'd keep that vaunted royal pride even dragged to the Empire's heart.”
“......”
“But over many long years, not a single one satisfied my trivial curiosity. The ones who feigned nobility pissed themselves before the guillotine, begging for life, or sold out their kingdoms and people in desperate flattery.”
The Emperor's gaze darkened.
“Until you opened your mouth in the audience chamber yesterday.”
That exchange had clearly piqued his interest.
The Emperor tapped the table with thick fingers—tap, tap—and posed a real question.
“So today, I have another question for you. You've spoken before on the Empire's rule and systems.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Then, what are your thoughts on philosopher-kings, as proposed by an ancient thinker? A single perfect individual, armed with flawless wisdom, reason, and might, wielding absolute power to guide the foolish masses.”
I quietly set down my cup.
It was a blatant question from an absolute monarch who firmly believed himself the continent's sole philosopher-king.
This was no moment for obvious flattery. He'd lop off my head the instant he heard it—or at least slash his estimation of me.
“It's an idealistic, romantic notion. But from the perspective of governing a real state, I see fatal flaws.”
“Ho. Fatal flaws? What's the problem if led by a perfect sovereign?”
“The greatest limit of philosopher-kingship is that the prerequisite—a true philosopher— is nearly impossible to fulfill in reality.”
The Emperor leaned forward slightly, intrigued.
“Even if a perfect sovereign descends by heaven's will to forge an unprecedented golden age, humans age, fall ill, and die. The real issue comes after they close their eyes.”
“Afterward, you say.”
“Yes. If the successor isn't a perfect philosopher-king like their predecessor—if they're merely average, or a fool drunk on power—what then? A state relying solely on one individual's overwhelming ability and judgment collapses the instant that pillar vanishes.”
I glanced once at the Emperor's hand on the table, then at his purple eyes, before continuing.
“Waiting for a single perfect human to be born is far too fragile a gamble for a nation's fate. True excellence in rule means building systems so robust that even an average person on the throne—or someone a bit lacking—can keep the realm running smoothly.”
As my words ended, a heavy silence descended on the greenhouse, so profound even rustling leaves went unheard.
The Emperor rested his chin on his hand, staring wordlessly.
After a moment of blank scrutiny, the faintest, chilliest smile ghosted across his lips—enough to send shivers down my spine.
“......You're quite insolent.”
“Your Majesty, I merely answered with my honest conviction...”
“Do you think I asked because I didn't know that?”
His voice was low and calm, yet it carried a bizarre pressure that pricked my skin like a blade.
“It was a question to see how far you'd follow the conclusions I've reached after decades of reflection. Flattery about perfect rule under someone like me, or nonsense? I'd have cut out that three-inch tongue on the spot.”
The Emperor slowly leaned forward.
His purple eyes, inches away across the table, gleamed sharply enough to sever my neck.
“But... you followed too perfectly. It's giving me chills.”
“......”
“So now, I'm seriously pondering.”
The red tea in the cup rippled faintly under the weight of his aura.
I held my breath, awaiting his next words. I felt like a frog before a serpent.
Erasing that faint smile, the Emperor murmured lowly.
“Whether to sever the neck of this clever, insolent sprout right here for the Empire's sake. Or to keep you alive a bit longer as a conversation partner in this dull palace.”
What emanated from the Emperor was pure killing intent.
Not the beastly rage of the First Imperial Princess, but the cold, rational malice of an absolute ruler.
“Had you ascended Sterling's throne, that little southern kingdom would have become a grave threat to the Empire one day. A terribly troublesome foe. Now I'm curious—how did you end up as a hostage here?”
Before the Emperor's gaze—a grotesque blend of murder and fascination—I bit my lip hard.