The Candel Empire's Imperial Palace stood in the northern center of its capital, Wimbledon City, atop a hill that rose far above the surrounding plains.
This hill had originally been the only high ground in the vast stretch of flat land nearby. With the palace itself built especially tall and grand, every resident of Wimbledon City could see its lofty, golden splendor in the distance simply by raising their head.
Every morning, His Majesty the Emperor of the great Candel Empire held court in the Council Hall, the palace's most prominent building and the political heart of the entire empire, to hear reports from his ministers.
Usually, this morning court was little more than a formality. The ministers gave His Majesty brief reports on important matters, while the details of handling and implementing them were dealt with afterward.
Thus, most of the time, His Majesty merely sat upright in his tall chair, looking down at the ministers below and listening intently.
Today, however, the esteemed Emperor of the Candel Empire, de Boer XVII, had risen from his tall chair-a rare occurrence-and was glaring furiously at a middle-aged man standing in the center below, dressed in the uniform of a Candel Empire admiral.
"Our illustrious Imperial Navy could not even deal with a mere merchant guild's fleet! Instead, they routed you, destroying more than seventy percent of your warships! Duke Warner, is this the Imperial Navy you command? Is this the Imperial Navy on which the empire spends tens of millions of gold coins every year?"
The middle-aged man lowered his already bowed head a little farther, but offered no response.
Seeing that he had nothing to say, de Boer XVII grew even angrier.
"Very well. If tens of millions of gold coins a year only buys the empire a pack