PROLOGUE
The Silk Clan finds its roots along the eastern edge of the Jötunheimr region in East Yggdrasil. They made their home on the easternmost edge of Yggdrasil, and as their name implied, they were the only clan that knew the secrets behind silk manufacturing. With its distinct shine, silk was a necessity for the upper classes of Yggdrasilian society, and it was an intensely popular product that merchants from all over came to purchase.
Because the Silk Clan had a monopoly on silk production, they could sell it at whatever price they cared to name, and it would still fly off the shelves. It was such a popular product that, no matter how much they made, the supply never kept up with demand. The Silk Clan then took the enormous sums of money they gained through their silk trade and spent it lavishly on infrastructure improvements. As a result, the Silk Clan now had an immensely high level of agricultural production and an impressively large population.
Though it had only been a mere thirty years since its rise, it was counted among the Ten Great Clans.
“Hrmph. The usurper thinks to call upon us at his whims. Presumptuous little brat.”
Utgarda snorted in displeasure and tossed aside the clay tablet brought to her.
She appeared to be about seventeen or eighteen years of age—still young by all accounts—but she possessed an elegant beauty that was comparable to the glittering jewelry that adorned her person.
“But if we don’t answer the þjóðann’s summons, we could be branded as traitors...”
“You would dare to suggest that We are a traitor?”
Upon hearing Utgarda’s tone of displeasure, the man let out a short scream and paled. The man was in his mid-thirties and the fourth-highest ranked member of the Silk Clan. He was an accomplished warrior in his own right and had the courage worthy of his powerful position. It was an extraordinary occurrence for such a man to openly show fear in public.
“M-My apologies. Suoh-Yuuto is the true traitor—a mere child who has unjustly claimed the title of þjóðann.”
Although the man hurriedly issued an apology...
“Fool,” Utgarda spat out with a lack of interest, looking down upon him as though he were little more than furniture.
“We care not for such a matter. Allow Us to ask again... What are We?”
As the cold tone of her words reached his ears, the man realized his mistake, and the blood further drained from his features. He felt the cold grip of fear squeeze at his heart and spoke with a trembling voice.
“Y-You are the most supreme reverence, the Þrymr, the Great Emperor!”
“Yes, that’s correct. So why should We follow the orders of a mere þjóðann, a dusty relic of a bygone age? A traitor and usurper? Mm? Answer Us.”
After hearing what Utgarda had to say on the matter, the man couldn’t help but kowtow to her, pressing his forehead down onto the floor.
“P-Please forgive me, Your Majesty!”
rymr was the title that Utgarda had claimed for herself. There wasn’t a single clan outside of the Silk Clan who accepted the legitimacy of the title. To put it precisely, she was the usurper—a patriarch who foolishly claimed the title of an emperor—but no one in the Silk Clan dared to make such an observation.
“We told you to answer Us, not apologize. We suppose that this means you’ve admitted your guilt, yes?”
Utgarda’s lips twisted into a cruel smirk. Because of her beautiful features, her smile looked all the more ruthless to the man. The very next day, the man’s head was placed on display for every denizen of the great capital of Útgarðar to see. Such was the fate of all who displeased Utgarda within the Silk Clan’s realm. No matter how petty the crime, no matter the individual’s position, she showed no mercy to anyone she disliked.
For this reason, the people of the Silk Clan lived in constant fear of her. They lived in fear of their Bloody Empress.
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