Astha August sat alone in the study, tightly gripping the freshly delivered imperial decree.
The candlelight reflected off the parchment, making the Empire's golden crest appear dazzling.
Northern Territory establishment, just a few words.
No instructions, no expectations, just a cold third-person imperative tone.
He stared at the candle flame, yet within his heart surged an indescribable emotion.
Unease.
And... a sense of hidden opportunity.
"Finally remembered me?" he murmured to himself, with a hint of self-deprecating sarcasm.
For years, he had almost convinced himself he would quietly, silently age within these courts.
As a prince without achievements, without real power, without a story.
He had long been locked away in the Empire's blind spot of power, as if his name on the genealogical page was merely to make up the numbers.
It wasn't that no one had warned him.
Many had kindly advised him: "You're not suited for the struggle."
