Winter pressed quietly against the palace windows.
Snow had fallen throughout the night, blanketing the imperial capital in a cold, patient silence. From the high windows of the imperial strategy chamber, the city looked almost peaceful—white roofs, silent streets, and towers softened beneath frost.
But Emperor Severin Draconia knew better.
Snow did not erase problems.
It merely buried them for a time.
The strategy chamber was empty except for him.
A massive table carved from dark oak filled the center of the room, its surface covered in maps of the empire. Markers indicated military positions, trade routes, and reports from the northern territories where the creeping blight continued its slow expansion.
Severin stood with both hands resting against the edge of the table.
He had been studying the northern frontier when the palace report arrived.
But now the maps meant nothing.
His attention had shifted to a different battlefield entirely.
The palace.
