The Imperial War Room was a circular chamber of heavy stone and vaulted ceilings, designed to echo with the shouts of conquering generals. Today, it echoed only with the panicked blustering of a cornered Emperor.
"It is a blockade!" the Emperor roared, slamming his fist onto the massive oak map table. "Thirty warships of the Southern Fleet are currently parked outside our main trading ports! Valerius has choked our supply lines in a single night!"
Crown Prince Aeron stood opposite his father. He was dressed in his dark military uniform, his silver medals gleaming. His hands were bare, resting casually on the edge of the map. He did not look panicked. He looked like a man analyzing a chessboard.
"It is a provocation, Father," Aeron corrected calmly. "A test of our resolve."
