The crash that followed echoed through the hall like thunder—or like the sound of an Emperor's dignity shattering into a thousand pieces.
Crystal shattered against marble with musical violence, the sound sharp and clear enough to make every guest wince reflexively. The noise was so pure, so perfectly crystalline, that it seemed to hang in the air for moments after the impact.
Deep red wine splashed across the Emperor's pristine white ceremonial robes like blood across snow, staining the expensive fabric in patterns that looked disturbingly artistic. The liquid soaked through the silk with the enthusiasm of wine that knew it was making history, spreading in dark patches that would be absolutely impossible to clean—especially since this was the kind of wine that left permanent stains.
'And there goes about ten thousand high mana cores pieces worth of ceremonial robes,' Pyris thought with satisfaction. 'Not to mention the Emperor's dignity, which is probably worth even more.'
