traitor chapter 1

In the vast western reaches of the continent lay the powerful empire of Cellurgia. The Emperor’s only heir, a princess, was declared Crown Prince at the tender age of four. Though the Emperor could have sired more children, he solidified the young princess’s claim to the throne. 

Despite the unprecedented nature of such an early appointment, there was little opposition. The princess possessed both magical power, the strength of the imperial family, and divine power, the strength of the temple, from birth. She was hailed by the populace as the “Divine Delegate,” wielding both magic and divinity. This made her more than qualified to be named the next emperor, even at the age of four. That was the public reason. However, a deeper motive, known only to the Emperor, lay beneath the surface. A unique ability, manifested through her magic and divine power, propelled the princess to the center of power.

She first displayed this ability at the age of three. Having just learned her numbers, the princess looked at the Empress’s palm and declared, “Thirteen.” Then, looking at a servant’s palm, she said, “Six.”

“Why am I thirteen?” the Empress asked with a smile. The princess replied that thirteen was the biggest number. The Empress assumed the princess was expressing her fondness with numbers, though she didn’t understand why thirteen was considered the highest. The princess had also added the word “Heart.”

Observing this, the Emperor, curious, asked what number he was. The princess asked for his hand. He extended it, and she, gazing at his palm, pronounced, “Eleven,” followed by “Heart.” The Emperor dismissed it, thinking the number represented affection, as the child clearly favored the Empress.

A few days later, the princess, toddling down the hall, saw the palm of a servant she barely knew and declared, “Seven.” This time, the following word wasn’t “Heart,” but “Clover.”

The Emperor found this peculiar. If it were a measure of affection, shouldn’t the familiar servant’s number still be six? This servant was no more exceptional than the others. Furthermore, the word was “Clover,” not “Heart.” What could it mean? The fact that she always looked at palms was also strange, as if reading numbers and symbols written there.

The Emperor, suspecting a possibility, presented the palms of his close aides to the princess. Six, ten, five, four, four, three, nine… The numbers were low for aides appointed through old connections or political reasons, and high for those he had personally selected. Could she be discerning their competence? It also intrigued him that “Heart,” which she had used for the Empress and himself, was rare, while “Clover” and “Spade” were frequently mentioned. Assuming the numbers represented competence, what did the symbols signify?

Consumed by curiosity, the Emperor had the princess examine the palms of various individuals, bringing forth people of all ages and genders. Through this random sampling, he identified the nature of her ability: she could instantly recognize a person’s talents and their potential for growth. The numbers seemed to indicate the level of their talent, while the symbols represented the type of talent. While the exact nature of each type was still unclear, he noticed a high concentration of knights among those designated “Spade.”

The potential applications of this power were limitless. It could expose the deceitful whispers of the political sphere and ensure the right people were placed in the right positions. The Emperor’s eyes gleamed with the realization of its value. This ability had to remain secret until the princess came of age. He had to prevent others from exploiting her, preserving it for her own political use in the future.