The Royal Palace of Elysea stood tall and proud, its gilded towers gleaming beneath the midday sun. At its heart, behind heavy oak doors and thick marble walls, King Bruno of Elysea sat in quiet contemplation.
The chamber was grand, but its silence was unnerving.
Outside, courtiers whispered in polished corridors, and ministers scurried between meetings, but inside the king's private study, only the crackling of a hearth and the soft scratch of a quill disturbed the stillness.
He had been waiting for news for months.
The last official dispatch from the New World had arrived six weeks ago, dated April 10th. It had spoken of a looming confrontation—Masséna closing in on Saint-Michel, Roux gathering the remnants of his rebellion. A final battle was coming. The outcome uncertain.
But since then—nothing.
Until now.
The heavy doors creaked open. The king did not look up.