The Imperial Capital, Imperial Hall.
A dome built of massive stones soared overhead.
At its center, an enormous chandelier wrought through alchemy and Eternal Flame Runes slowly revolved. Blue flames blazed within it, yet gave off no heat.
It was the Eternal Flame, sealed through stellar fire refinement by the Empire's court Alchemists. It had burned for three hundred and seventy-two years without ever going out, symbolizing the unquenchable will of the Empire.
Twelve enormous ancient emblems were embedded in the walls, each from one of the Empire's original twelve cities.
From Dragonbreath City's shattered dragon shield to Gloomwind Ridge's crescent spear, each silently and solemnly watched over this sanctuary of power, like petrified incarnations of a thousand years of imperial rule.
At the top of the steps, the imperial throne towered above them like a deity gazing down upon the masses.
Emperor Ernst August sat upright upon it, his black-and-gold dragon-patterned robe spilling down the steps like a coiled dragon.
The eternal fire overhead could not illuminate his face. Shadows at that lofty height draped him like curtains, revealing only a faint, stern outline, never his expression.
Only one person stood beside him: Lin Ze, the chief steward of the imperial household, clad in a jet-black, silk-patterned mage's robe.
Below, a long table curved like a crescent around the imperial steps.
More than twenty dignitaries in official robes, wearing their family crests, sat in order.
There were grand dukes, princes, privy councillors, legion commanders, fiscal directors, representatives of the Eight Great Families, representatives of the newly risen nobility...
Their seats were assigned according to noble rank, military merit, lineage, and actual power.
Every one of them held immense authority, yet now they were quiet as frightened mice.
They spoke in low voices and leafed through reports. Some coughed, others