Worthington Manor

The grand hall of Worthington Manor was filled with an air of quiet defiance. The chandeliers burned brightly, casting a golden glow over the long mahogany table where some of Britannia's most powerful nobles sat. Goblets of wine remained untouched, their minds too consumed by the gravity of the situation to indulge.

At the head of the table, Marquis Worthington sat in an ornately carved chair, his sharp green eyes surveying the gathered lords and ladies. His graying hair was neatly combed, and his military-style coat, embroidered with gold, reflected his authority.

"The Queen has failed us," he declared, his voice firm and commanding. "She has allowed her grief to consume her, and in doing so, she has condemned Britannia to servitude. She would have us bow to the Bernard Empire like beggars, surrendering our sovereignty in exchange for scraps."