I sat.
It was a tactical risk. Sitting meant relaxing my leg muscles, which saved mana, but it put me in grappling range. And Isabella was a Grappler-class opponent in social combat.
She poured me a glass of wine. I took it, but didn't drink. My internal biology was currently set to "minimal processing." If I poured alcohol into my system right now, it would just splash around in my chest cavity until I evaporated it.
"I didn't cheat," I said, keeping my voice smooth. "I utilized under-performing assets. The dead were just lying there, deprectiating in value. I put them to work."
Isabella laughed. It wasn't a polite court laugh. It was a throaty, genuine sound that bounced off the high ceiling.
"You speak of people like they are furniture," she said, leaning closer. Her eyes were dark, intelligent, and bored. Desperately bored. "The High Inquisitor says you have no soul. He says your aura is blank."
"I'm a minimalist."
"I think you're a liar," she whispered.
She reached out and touched my hand. Her skin was hot. Mine was room temperature—controlled, synthetic.
[ALERT: Physical Contact Detected.]
[Heart Rate Simulation: OFF.]
[Sweat Gland Simulation: OFF.]
[Risk of Discovery: 80%.]
"Your hand is cold, Arthur," she noted, her thumb tracing the back of my knuckles.
"Circulation issues," I lied. "The North is very cold."
"And you don't sweat," she added. She moved her hand up my arm, over the velvet of my coat, toward my neck. "Most men sweat when they are in my bedroom. They tremble. They stammer. You? You’re as still as a statue."
She was testing me. This wasn't seduction; this was a diagnostic scan. Isabella was the only person in the Empire who wasn't afraid of the Church, which meant she was the only one crazy enough to poke the bear just to see what sound it made.
"I'm just focused on serving the Crown," I said, trying to pull away slightly.
"Boring," she sighed, gripping my collar and pulling me closer. Her face was inches from mine. I could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. "The Emperor is boring. The Church is boring. Even the assassins are boring; they always use the same poison. But you... you disrupted the entire divine economy in a week."
She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I want to know what you are, Arthur. Are you a demon? A golem? A very lost god?"
My HUD was screaming at me.
[WARNING: Stress Levels Critical.]
[Humanity Percentage dropping to 60%.]
[Recommend immediate exit strategy.]
"Your Majesty," I said, trying to stand up. "I really should go. I have a 6:00 AM meeting about zoning laws..."
"Sit down," she commanded.
It wasn't a request. The air shimmered. A heavy, golden weight slammed onto my shoulders.
[STATUS EFFECT: Royal Command.]
[Effect: Forced Obedience (Tier 5).]
[Resistance Check: Failed.]
My knees buckled. I fell back onto the chaise. It wasn't magic like the Church used; this was the raw authority of the Throne, encoded into the System. Lower-level beings literally had to obey her.
Isabella straddled my lap. It was an incredibly compromising position, but I was too busy panicking about my structural integrity to appreciate it. If she sat too hard, she might pop me like a water balloon.
"I command you," she whispered, leaning into my ear, "to show me your true self."
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.