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Chapter 1: The Golden Age
The sea wind carried the smell of brine and oil through the palace courtyard. Flags tugged at their poles, restless under a gray sky that promised rain before nightfall. Corvo Attano, a man in his late thirties crossed the stones without slowing. Boots heavy, cloak snapping at his heels. The guards at the gates stiffened as he passed. None spoke to him: they never did.
Inside, the halls of Dunwall, the capital of Gristol and the Empire of the Isles. Tower bustled with too much laughter and too many whispers. Nobles from across the Isles had gathered for the Empress's address, their velvet sleeves brushing against the steel armor of palace guards. Servants hurried with trays of wine, their eyes darting to every corner, as though afraid that a careless word might end their employment–or their lives.
Corvo said nothing as he climbed the stairs to the great chamber. His presence was enough. People stepped aside, some bowing their heads with genuine respect, others because they feared the blade at his hip. The Lord Protector was his title and he carried it with honour.
At the top of the hall, the Empress waited. Jessamine Kaldwin, ruler of the Isles. She wore a gown of deep blue, her dark hair pinned back with silver combs in a traditional for their country way. She looked composed to the crowd, regal and untouchable. Corvo, watching her with a soldier's eye, saw the strain behind her poise—the sleepless nights, the weight of too many decisions pressing down.
She glanced toward him as Corvo approached. It was only an instant, but enough. Her lips did not move and her face betrayed nothing, but the flicker in her gaze was warmer than any greeting spoken that day.
The man advanced the last few steps and sank to one knee before the dais, his head bowed. His bare fist pressed to the polished stone floor, his other hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. The chamber quieted at the gesture; it was a sight the court never tired of—the Empress standing tall, her Protector kneeling at her feet.
"Your Majesty," Corvo said, his voice low, carried with discipline through more than a decade of service.
Jessamine inclined her head, her expression perfectly measured. "Lord Protector. The Isles are grateful for your return. Rise, and tell us what you have seen.", she said loud enough for everyone to understand what was going on.
He obeyed, standing with the same precision as when he knelt, though his gaze remained fixed slightly downward out of respect.