The early summer in the Northern Territory rarely shows any mildness.
The last layer of snow on the castle's high windows is quietly melting, with droplets falling along the stone walls, reflecting a faint light in the sunlight.
Warm wind blows through the half-open long windows, carrying the scent of reviving moist soil, making one almost forget that this was once a frigid place where even breathing would frost.
The sunlight carries just the right touch of warmth, slanting across the giant oak long table in the center of the study.
Louis, however, has no mind to enjoy this comfort.
He stands by the wall, back to the window light, holding a pen in hand, his gaze fixed on the giant map hanging on the wall.
But not the Northern Territory, rather the Southeast Province and its surrounding regions, or rather, the Holy Eastern Empire.
The pen moves across the map, making a subtle rustling sound.
