A few days later, at the Nobles' Council.
The dome of the great hall was painted with heroic epics from the duchy's founding.
Sunlight streamed through the enormous stained-glass windows on either side, casting dappled light and shadow over the deep red carpet.
The duchy's great nobles sat in circular tiers, arranged according to their hereditary titles and the importance of their territories.
This was the heart of power in the Haiti Duchy. Every resolution committed to ink would determine countless people's fates.
Veylin sat alone in the second-floor observers' gallery.
A carved wooden railing separated his seat from the debating floor below. He could overlook the entire chamber, but the barrier also marked his exclusion from the proceedings.
The session had yet to formally begin, and the nobles' hushed conversations echoed through the hall.
Their discussions centered on the rumors already circulating-Baron Veylin had made repeated visits to Marquis Lorenzo's residence and reached an agreement with his second son, the "Bloodless."
Several nobles seated around Marquis Lorenzo occasionally raised their heads to cast appraising glances at the observers' gallery.
Those gazes held curiosity, but also greed.
As the council's chief clerk rang the silver bell on his desk, the hall fell silent.
"The first item on today's agenda."
The clerk's voice was full and even.
"A review of the application for Development Rights to the Southern Archipelago, submitted by His Lordship Weilin Klein, frontier baron of the Gray Marsh Fief."
Having finished reading, he sat back down without expression.
A burly old man rose to his feet.
He wore a perfectly fitted dark blue military dress uniform. Its brass buttons were polished to a brilliant shine, and the noble crest on his chest gleamed.
Marquis Ironwall, leader of the military nobility and the staunchest standard-bearer of the pro-Empire faction.