Inside, three figures stood beneath vaulted ceilings and shadowed pillars.
On the throne—no, not a throne, a monstrosity of jagged blackstone that seemed designed more for intimidation than comfort—sat the old Emperor, Caleus Invictu Valcaryn. Why every inch of the palace had to be covered in thorns, no one could say. Intimidation? Tradition? Madness? Maybe all three.
Standing to his right was the First Princess, calm and composed : Virelia Valcaryn. Regal, unreadable.
The third figure paced restlessly across the floor: Crown Prince Kaelion Valcaryn.
He moved like a storm barely held in check, straining against invisible chains, waiting—impatiently—for word for news of the plan's success. Word of the mission's success. Word of the death of Archduke William—chief general of the Terra Navy, the youngest yet most formidable military mind in the empire.
