This is in the same universe of The General's Cause roughly in the same time period as a standalone companion/sequel whose events somewhat impact the other story. If you wish to read it, here it is.

Author's note: The same day in his POV...and then the other subsequent dinner night.

__________________________________

"Long live YOUR MAJESTY!", called out hundreds of voices in a gilded hall as the sun beat down on that gilded hall in the Western desert.

The Oriental Masked King sat down on his golden throne with a look of contempt on his face. It was just another day at court, several hours had already been spent in the blistering heat as hand fans cooled the attendees. In his mind, there was no need to fuss with the formalities as they took up too much time.

"Premier," he stated, calling the man to come forward. The Premier bowed slightly, folding his hands behind yet another memorial. How many blasted memorials could they go through in one day? Apparently, several more than the King would like.

"Your Majesty, we come here today to make a request of you."

Interest slightly peeked, he raised his left eyebrow, asking, "What is it now?"

Another minister chimed in, "Your Majesty, we mean no harm by saying this."

"You will get your head cut off by the count of three should the Premier stall any longer," nonchalantly exclaimed the indifferent Masked King, wearing a mask on half of his face for charity's sake. It was unusual for him to have it off besides when he was fighting on the battlefield.

Enemies, especially low-ranked soldiers were known to flee at the sight of his marred natal scarring. His late teacher, a prominent General, had advised him to use it as a means of intimidation, striking fear into their hearts or something like that. It worked more often than not, sadly.

Perhaps, without the blemish, he would have been known as a handsome man.

As it was, he eyed his subjects with scorn, a sneer splayed across his lips. After all, he had lived his whole life with others viewing him as a beast. If a monster is what they expected, a monster is what they would get.

"The Empress Dowager...", started the other minister.

He chuckled. Whereas a mere grin from the Conqueror set others on edge, and a laugh cause men to tremble; a chuckle from the Oriental Masked King was a common happenstance. However, the Masked King's chuckles meant his patience was wearing thin, and his temper was...well, a nasty business to suffer at the hands of on any day.

"Come again? Dowager?", he mocked, turning to glance at the lady behind the curtain. His long braids swished in the air, bells tingling as he locked eyes with his 'stepmother'.

Facing his subjects, he grimaced, saying, "Remind the former Queen, my father's beloved wife that she holds no power here," he emphasized the word beloved, leading the previous Queen to bristle from her highchair behind the throne. It was no secret how she loathed the ruling Sovereign to those who witnessed their interactions.

If he had come from the fruit of her loins, perhaps she would have hated him even more. There was the matter of his looks after all.

Perhaps it was the Mask itself that made others fear and jeer at him behind his back more than his face. Ghost stories swirled around on how ugly it must be, as only soldiers on the battlefield briefly saw it, not that he cared much to hear them anyways.

"Your Majesty," softly cried out the Premier with fake politeness. The Oriental Masked King had known for quite a long time that the Premier was not on his side, but the former King had decreed that he be the ruler. How was the Premier supposed to defy that order, especially as the King gave it out before he got sick?

Suddenly, an assassin fell from a wooden beam, and attempted to slice the current King in half. Quickly, a pair of hidden bodyguards rose and fought the assailant, pinning him to the ground in seconds.

Pressing a finger to his good eye, he said, "Anything else need addressing during this court session?"

"Your Majesty," called out a noble. "What about the new alliance with the Conqueror's kingdom, the Jin Dynasty?"

"What about it?", asked the Oriental Masked King as he scratched dust out of his only good eye.

"Is it not dangerous to make a move such as that? Could it be that the concubine sent over is in fact a spy, and not a branch of good will?", inquired the noble, lowering his head as he did so.

The Masked King grinned. "You're right. I should think clearly before I make decisions."

"Your Excellency?", remarked the Premier in astonishment.

"Clearly, after all these years of protecting this nation from harm, and bringing it to prosperity, raising the wealth that our nation holds...maybe I miscalculated and should fight him instead."

"Yes, your Majesty!", enthusiastically cried out the noble.

"Especially with the Turks, Mongols, Khitans, Uighurs, Tibetan, Jurchens, and other Chinese kingdoms vying for power and land. As a small wealthy kingdom with enclosed borders, we should do our best to cause trouble when we can and practically beg them to invade our land, don't you think?"

"I...", the noble squeaked.

"Is that what you were thinking when you sent the assassin?", exclaimed the Oriental Masked King as he stared right into the eyes of the mastermind.

"But..."

Dragging the assassin, one of the bodyguards ripped his sleeve to show a tattoo emblazoned with the house crest of the speaker in question.

"Anything to say for yourself?", he mocked, curling his lips before returning to a sneer.

"You...you do not deserve the throne! Even your father when he laid eyes on you said you should have never been born!", he called out as guards pulled him away.

"High Priest?", he called. The oldest member in the room, the High Priest, leisurely strolled over to the front.

Bowing before His Majesty, the High Priest unraveled the prophecy scroll that foretold the nation prosper under him and its wealth multiply a thousandfold. In all honestly, the King with Turkic blood in his veins could care less about superstition. For many, laying eyes on his face was cause for eternal bad luck for their children; that did make one less prone to believing in childish fairy tales as a result.

Calling the guards to bring the noble with royal blood in his veins over one last time, he leaned over, and whispered, "Like it or not, this monster has the reign that you shall never hold. How is that for fairness?"

The royal noble spit on him so the king without hesitation retrieved a hidden dagger from his robe and stabbed him in the stomach.

"That should do it," he muttered to the bodyguards as the court watched in abject horror.

Why was there need for a trial when the sovereign declared himself judge, jury and executioner?

"Now as for the former Queen, I believe last time we decreed that she sit in her proper seat," he stated. The magnificent chair in question was placed in the front of the hall, but below the steps of the throne at the side of the Premier; signifying a place of privilege but no substantial state power to go with it.

"And as for Dowager...that would be reserved for my own mother, who sadly perished long ago," he added, wiping an imaginary tear for dramatic effect.

"But Your Majesty, we need a queen," voiced the Premier while murmurs about the lost concubines spread around the hall.

Standing up, a eunuch proclaimed the end of the session, and he promptly left, leaving the heavy imperial golden robe behind on the floor.

The Fourth Prince's mother sauntered over, and grabbed his arm, hissing, "How could you do this to me?"

He shook it off, stating, "The same way you treated me all those years. With absolute disdain."

Whispering in her ear, he mocked, "You will never win. Know when your fight is in vain."

Quite a distance away, he called a eunuch over with a scroll in hand, and asked, "How goes matters at the Southern border?"

"The memorial..."

"Sire," muttered one of his bodyguards as he knelt in reverence.

"Proceed," he replied.

"A group of bandits has blocked passageway to our kingdom and demand payment from passersby. They have robbed merchants, and claim to do so on your authority."

"My authority? Well, I think they need to see their King," answered the Masked King, grabbing armor from a servant, and strutting off to battle.

"What about Dinner, Sire?", asked the other bodyguard, the twin brother of the one who had knelt first.

"It can wait. I'll be back shortly," he responded back.

No one made war on his name without his permission and lived to tell the tale.

By the time he came back, it was half-past two in the morning. Looking around, he spotted no trace of the concubine promised to him by the Conqueror.

"Sorry, my Liege. She had been here since six in the evening. At midnight, the Princess Consort politely asked to leave so that she could rest," stated a eunuch.

"Dinner will be served at another time then," he mused.

The next day, dinner was served early to make up for last time.

However, the guest was notoriously absent. Waiting until daybreak, the Oriental Masked King learned about the cruel fate of karma.

She never showed.

____________________________

Author's note: This story is 3rd pov, but it is not limited to one character just like the General's Cause.

Now we know what happened the day the Princess Consort came to the kingdom. Anyways, writing the whole "Know when your fight is in vain" reminds me of "It's important to know when you've been beaten" from Mirror, Mirror movie. (I did come up with the original sentence and then look at the script for that movie, and model after it [little revision was needed] so it might sound familiar.)