At night, deep within the Imperial City, inside a secluded room.
Candlelight flickered. Heavy velvet curtains completely sealed the room off from the outside, allowing not even moonlight to penetrate.
Soundproofing runes were inlaid in the walls, ensuring that no sound could reach beyond the door.
The furnishings were not lavish, yet every detail hinted at an ambition steadily swelling-a dark oak desk, several high-backed chairs, and an enormous map of the Empire's territory hanging on the wall, its fortresses and domains marked with tiny dots of cinnabar.
The Empire's crown prince, Finn von Lainfield, stood by the window. With his fingertips, he gently parted the curtains a fraction and gazed out at the sparsely lit Imperial City.
He had short, honey-colored hair and well-proportioned features, with an innate sense of superiority and a keen edge in his expression.
A few steps behind him, the Empire Chancellor, Marcus Wiesenberg, stood quietly.
He was past fifty, his temples graying, but his posture remained upright. His gray eyes were steady and deep, as though they could see straight into people's hearts.
Dressed in a dark gray formal suit, he clasped his hands before him, his bearing respectful without being servile.
"Since we drove away that troublesome sister of mine, this must be the first time we've met in private in the past few months."
Finn let the curtain fall and turned around, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
There was a measure of triumph in that smile, along with a measure of mockery.
Marcus shook his head slightly, his tone measured and cautious:
"Please mind your words, Your Highness. We did not drive Her Highness the Princess away. She vanished suddenly, and the matter had nothing to do with us."
"Heh."
Finn gave a soft laugh and walked