The study curtains had been drawn tight. Heavy velvet shut out the daylight, along with the faint clamor of the Imperial Capital's streets.
Kalien sat behind his desk, where a newly delivered parchment lay open, its corners still creased.
The Letter to the People of the Empire, composed from Louis's speech.
He read it line by line. The words were sharp, their malice undisguised, like deliberately honed blades.
"A beast who murdered his own kin? A tyrant and enemy of the people who usurped the throne?" At that, Kalien's mouth suddenly twitched.
A low, hoarse laugh squeezed out of his throat, carrying the satisfaction of a truth finally laid bare.
"A beast?" he repeated softly, his fingers slowly tightening until they wrinkled the parchment.
"Ha... Louis, you're right to call me that." His eyes were cold and clear.
Kalien remembered how he had crushed Rhein's throat with his own hands.
He remembered the rows of corpses hanging along Triumphal Avenue, the warmth of blood flowing through the cracks between the paving stones.
He had never needed a fig leaf. This Dragon Throne had been built on violence and blood.
He preferred such bluntness to Rhein's hypocrisy, with all its pretensions of civilization.
Kalien continued reading. When his gaze settled on the words, "Until His Majesty returns, the Empire's throne stands empty," his laughter slowly faded.
Silence returned to the study.
Kalien raised his head, leaned back in his chair, and tapped his fingers lightly against the desk.
This was what truly interested him.
Everyone believed his great imperial father would never return.
Yet Louis had taken Greyrock Province and swallowed the Raymont Family without reaching for the crown. He still insisted on waiting for an emperor who had been missing for years. Clearly, he was leaving himself a way out.