Rain still battered the Imperial Capital, but inside Greyrock Province's temporary residence there, the silence made it seem cut off from the outside world.
Raymont sat beside the fireplace, his expression calm and elegant, nothing like a man who had just taken part in a coup that overturned the Empire.
Unlike the Second Imperial Prince, who had fought in the Imperial Hall until his eyes were bloodshot, Raymont did not have so much as a trace of blood on his fingers.
Raymont could be called the greatest beneficiary of this coup.
His years of planning formed a vast chessboard, and the nobles, princes, and legion commanders were merely pieces pushed back and forth across it.
Rhein was too soft, Kalien too reckless. Only he stood outside the board, claiming everything from the safest possible position.
He even felt a faint pleasure stirring in his heart...
The Empire was so vast, so ancient, yet he had brought it effortlessly under his sole control.
And those royal offspring who fancied themselves clever had eyes only for that chair, never realizing where power truly came from.
Several newly issued appointment documents lay spread across the table.
One read: Raymont Grace, granted the title of the Empire's "Hereditary Grand Marshal."
The document was cold and solemn. In the past five hundred years, this title had never been bestowed upon any noble.
It meant he now possessed the legal authority to mobilize every legion in the Empire except the Imperial Guard.
Not symbolic authority, but the kind that made Knight Order commanders mount their horses and act the moment an order arrived.
At the other end of the table lay a brand-new map of the Empire.
Three commanderies had been shaded in Greyrock Province's color.
They were the Three Fertile Commanderies surrounding the Imperial Capital,