[Location: The Imperial Capital – The Golden Palace]
The War Room of the Human Empire was usually a place of cold calculation and absolute authority.
Maps of the continent covered the walls, and the fate of millions was decided with the stroke of a quill.
Today, however, it smelled of fear.
"Explain this to me," Emperor Aurelius said.
His voice was quiet, but the air in the room vibrated. As a peak 7th Order Mage, his anger was a physical weight that pressed down on the chests of the twelve council members kneeling before him.
He threw a stack of reports onto the obsidian table. They slid across the surface, scattering like dead leaves.
"The Western Armory," Aurelius listed, ticking a finger.
"Burned to the ground three days ago. All the enchanted cannons? Gone."
"The Mining District of Sector 4," he continued.
"A riot broke out last night. By the time the suppression squad arrived, the mines were empty. Four thousand slaves... vanished into thin air."
