The downpour bore down on the eaves, striking the bronze gutters with dull, heavy knocks.
Only a single fireplace burned inside, its light too weak to illuminate the rafters.
Second Imperial Prince Kalien sat at his desk, his shoulders slightly hunched.
He had been staring at the military and administrative roster for a long time. The stitched wound where he had lost his arm ached in waves, as though cold dampness were seeping into his bones.
With a light stroke of his quill, he crossed out the third name on the list.
It belonged to the Twenty-Third Legion Commander, who had once sworn loyalty to him in person. They had fought side by side.
Yet today's intelligence reported that the main force stationed on the outskirts of the Royal Capital had submitted a request for redeployment to the Finance Department, controlled by the Fourth Imperial Prince, that morning.
Kalien stared at the name as the ink spread, his throat feeling as though someone had seized it.
More than his dwindling strength, it was the feeling of being abandoned piece by piece that cut deepest.
He was like a tree hollowed out by termites, still standing, yet liable to collapse at any moment.
A soft knock broke the dead silence.
"Your Highness." His personal attendant lowered his voice, but could not hide his panic. "Duke Raymont requests an audience."
The quill slipped from Kalien's fingers and rolled across the desk.
He jerked his head up, bewilderment giving way to disbelief.
Raymont? The titan who made nobles give way wherever he went on the Empire's northern and southern fronts?
By all rights, he should have been in Greyrock Province, countless miles away.
How could he be here in the rain-lashed Imperial Capital?
His shock lasted only a moment before an almost greedy