High up on the golden throne, the Emperor rested his chin on his knuckles.
His face was an unreadable, imperial mask, but his dark eyes swept over the Minister of the Right with a chilling, disappointed coldness. The Emperor knew exactly what Heena was doing. He suspected the morning race was a deliberate distraction, a loud firecracker set off to hide some other movement in the shadows. But because the Marquis's nephew had been stupid enough to issue the formal challenge himself, Heena had executed the stunt with absolute legal and social perfection.
There was no angle for the throne to punish her without looking blatantly tyrannical and foolish.
"The Vanguard General makes a flawless point," the Emperor's voice finally echoed through the hall, calm but carrying the absolute weight of the heavens.
The Minister of the Right's knees instantly gave out. He collapsed back onto the polished stone floor, bowing his head in trembling defeat.
