Louis sat behind the long table, reviewing a document marked "Site selection for the alchemical industrial park."
The sound of shackles dragging across the carpet broke the silence.
Vale brought the prisoner to the center of the study and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
The silk finery that had once symbolized royal authority was now in tatters, its edges blackened by seawater and mud.
His boots had split open, and only half their gold-thread decoration remained.
The only thing he still clutched tightly to his chest was a gold-inlaid mahogany box.
Even so, he struggled to straighten his back, chin slightly raised, gaze angled upward. It was a posture drilled into him through endless practice.
"Louis Calvin," Lampard began, his hoarse voice deliberately forcing out a note of authority. "In the name of the emperor, I demand treatment befitting my station."
Louis turned a page without looking at him. "You have two minutes. I have a meeting after that."
Lampard's Adam's apple bobbed.
Those words cut deeper than any insult, as though he were merely a diversion to pass the time before a meeting. But that was exactly what he was.
He abandoned the preamble, quickly placed the mahogany box on the table, and opened it.
Inside lay a perfectly preserved parchment scroll and a weighty Royal Seal.
"The Imperial Abdication Deed." Lampard began speaking faster. "Once I sign it, you will have lawful legitimacy over the Empire. The old nobles, the old legions, the local councils-this is all they recognize."
He stared at Louis's face, trying to find a flicker of hesitation in those calm eyes. "Without it, you will never be anything but a rebel who seized power by force."
Louis still did not look at the scroll.
He merely made a mark in the