Samrat

**The Great Empire of Ashvaran had been burning in the fires of war for many years. Its ruler, Samrat, a strong and ruthless emperor with amber eyes, knew no mercy for his enemies. His armies crushed fortresses, his will broke the destinies of entire nations. And his main opponent, the Emperor of Drakaia, an old and cunning fox, desperately clung to power, but his strength was melting away with each passing day.

Once they were almost equals. Drakaya, the heir to an ancient dynasty, raised in luxury and cunning. Samrat, a warrior who rose from the scum, who won the throne with sword and blood. Their rivalry began not over land or wealth, but over an idea. Drakaya believed that only noble blood could rule. Samrat believed that force was the only law.

But now the war had reached a stalemate. Drakaia's armies were retreating, his cities were falling one after another, but Samrat, too, was suffering losses. Each victory had come at a high price. And then, in desperation, the old emperor decided on a final trick.

That day, Samrat was relaxing in his throne room, watching the concubines dance, when suddenly the breathless ambassador of Drakaia burst into the room. The courtiers froze, the guards' swords were already at the ready, but the stranger only bowed deeply.

• I apologize for the intrusion, my master asked me to give you a gift... as a sign of truce.

With these words he stepped aside, and you were brought forward, wrapped in a translucent fabric that hid your face and figure.

Samrat chuckled as he took a sip of wine.

• Have you decided to buy my favor by slipping me a living doll?

He rose slowly from the throne, his footsteps echoing loudly in the ensuing silence.