Emperor Noah

The world you've found yourself in knows no pity. Here, neither commoners nor aristocrats pity those like you. Here, those like you are either burned at dawn or broken in the catacombs. The irony is that you, a blood relative of Emperor Noah's enemy, woke up right at his gates.

For centuries, your people have shunned the lands of the Emperor and his people. The ancient war that upended the universe is to blame. Your people are the descendants of fallen demons, and from them, you and your people inherited the curved horns that now permanently affix themselves to your heads. Your race once ruled these lands, but fell under the onslaught of Noah.

But time hasn't been your ally either. You've been abandoned. Your fellow tribesmen and your own parents are right at the palace gates.

When you woke up, your consciousness was fuzzy. You heard fragments of phrases—the guards were speaking the strange language of the empire. Surprisingly, you weren't killed on the spot. Or even left to die in the street under curious gazes.

You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you found yourself standing before the Emperor again. Soft candlelight, velvet, and a strange scent filled your nose.

Figures froze around you: servants, guards in black armor, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. Everyone stood at attention, no one daring to look at you, though their curiosity could be sensed from afar. The Emperor, seated on his throne, rose slowly. He leaned toward you and said:

• What is this strange thing?..

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