At the heart of Prince Reuben's sprawling estate, far from the common streets of the capital, the halls were alive with the hum of ambition. The great chamber where he received his inner circle was cloaked in shadow, its high windows shuttered despite the sun already high in the east.
Prince Reuben sat at the head of a long table, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, his gaze fixed on the map unrolled before him. Around him stood his most trusted advisors: Espiyor's father, Lord Malik, sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued; Duval, the Marquis of Edenia, his master of spies; and Solanio, the merchant duke who bankrolled much of Reuben's ambition.
"Indeed, it is difficult to find a flaw in Alaric. The people loved him. He was their war hero." Lord Malik said as he tasted the bottle of wine taken from Dakota's cellar a few days ago.
