[Emperor Cassius's POV]
The war tent reeked of ink, ash, and long hours. Outside, thunder cracked low against the hills. A storm was coming. But inside—the real Tempest was already seated at the table.
I pushed past the heavy flaps and entered.
"So…" I said coldly, my voice slicing through the stale air. "What did we find?"
Regis, hunched over a scroll, glanced up. He looked tired. Gaunt. Like the parchment in his hands had drained more blood than the battlefield ever could. He lowered the scroll and stood, spine straightening out of sheer habit.
"It's confirmed," he said gravely. "There's been a change of emperor in Irethene."
I moved past the table and dropped onto the high-backed war chair they called my "field throne." It wasn't gold, but it carried the same weight. And that weight settled onto my shoulders like iron.
"Go on," I said.
Regis didn't waste time. "Just as we suspected—Orlen, the former Emperor of Irethene… is dead."
I raised an eyebrow. "Dead? Assassinated?"
