His posture was excessively relaxed—one arm draped over the armrest, his body tilted, even yawning openly.
Seated beside him, King Romano II of the Kingdom of Telma fidgeted nervously, having been unceremoniously displaced from the head position.
Romano II shot glances toward Sigmund.
The emperor's velvet cloak shimmered with gold embroidery, and the imperial crown atop his head was a clear symbol of the empire's overwhelming might.
Yet Sigmund displayed not a shred of tension or dignity.
He lazily tapped the table with dead-fish eyes, as if entirely bored with the proceedings.
'What the hell is this lunatic doing, arriving first only to set the mood like this?'
Today, the Continental Summit to bring down the Glorious Holy Empire would begin.
This summit was entirely different in nature from the previous mirror meetings.
Unlike those remote, magically connected gatherings, this was a face-to-face council.
