Meanwhile, Ereno, the capital of the Norman Empire far from the Western Front, was enduring an unprecedented storm. "Whoosh!"
Dense rain hammered against the stone pavement, splashing water everywhere.
The Imperial Guards stationed at the entrance of Westru Palace stared straight ahead at the empty street beneath the downpour.
With unprecedented solemnity and gravity, they guarded the palace behind them, where countless high-ranking Empire officials and the most esteemed Emperor resided.
"..."
Compared to the outside world, made noisy and chaotic by the torrential rain,
the Upper House Hall within Westru Palace was filled with an oppressive, deathly still atmosphere.
The Old Guard Party's noble councilors, led by Prime Minister Wolf, sat expressionlessly on the left side of the chamber. Facing them across the hall was the Reform Party, led by the seriously ill Ostan Duke, their faces solemn and composed.
At the very center of the Upper House Hall stood a lofty platform raised by nine steps. Upon it sat a luxurious crimson leather throne studded with countless jewels, symbolizing the highest authority in the nation.
William Perus, the current ruler of the Norman Empire, leaned back in that seat, his hands resting naturally on the armrests at either side.
His brown curls were hidden beneath an ornate golden crown. He wore a long red-and-black robe adorned with countless lavish ornaments. Perhaps having inherited the Perus Family's exceptional looks, his features were deep and sharply defined, like a flawless statue.
Eight whole years had passed since he, then a prince, had seized the throne through a coup and formally succeeded the previous ruler.
Without realizing it, he had gone from a spirited young monarch to a man of forty-two.
The passion of his youth had vanished amid endless trivial affairs and struggles against powerful ministers, replaced by a chilling