The ruling monarch of the Seraphiel Empire, Hector Atticus Seraphiel, had three consortia at his disposal: the Knights of the Round Table, the Neveral Party, and the Axhiven League. Their very presence justified the strength of the Empire, being that every nation in the continent was wary of their authority and scope of influence.
The Knights of the Round Table administered seventy percent of the Empire's forces; the Neveral party, comprised of all fourteen Ducal families, maintained the balance of political power within the noble circles; the Axhiven League, formed by the nine Archducal families, managed almost one-half of Seraphiel's territorial land.
The three factions could solely be impelled to move by virtue of the Emperor's volitions. They might oppose some of his verdicts, yet limited to the specifics. After all, decrypting the purpose of the monarch's absurd commands was also their job. As long as the Emperor's ambitions aligned to their dogmas, these factions wouldn't hesitate to do his bidding.
"Axhiven?!" Khamael screamed with no reservations, startling the spirits of his comrades.
Sadly for the lad, it earned him Mikhail's ire.
"What seems to be the problem, Khamael?" The older Percival uttered with a grin that never reached his irked eyes.
The question made Khamael drop his head, leaving his reply to the imagination of everyone in the room. On the other hand, Mikhail just dismissed the young one's outcry.
Simultaneously, the totality of the knights, sans the order commanders, were still in stupefaction of the reality that the Rounds would be moving in one unit for the upcoming war. At no time did this particular arrangement dawn in the previous wars, mainly because of the incompatible prowess between the members of the Rounds.
Furthermore, this prodigious unit was going to be supplemented with the Axhiven knights, who were equally monstrous in strength. They merely could not fathom the futurity of the battlefield with the inclusion of several eccentric people working as one entity.
The Grand Cordon surveyed the countenances of the people seated around the table. He's aware that they weren't pleased with the master plan that he divulged, as evident in their scowling glares. However, he's not amenable to accommodate their preferences, so he resumed his speech without addressing their concerns.
"We will depart for the Plains of Rephtry on the 10th. For the orders that will participate in combat, have a huddle among yourselves to discuss the particulars. The rest should return to your usual activities. I won't entertain any queries until we've discussed all of the matters on our agenda." Mikhail declared, putting an end to his talk regarding the war.
Indubitably, the congregation wasn't contented of the sudden conclusion. Predominantly, the Rounds wanted to inquire about the affair with Avixhen, but they're sensible enough to keep their mouths shut, seeing that their commander wouldn't really indulge their query.
"Then, next subject matter to-"
Mikhail was abruptly interposed by the sound of commotion that emerged right outside of the room. The occupants of the hall also heard it, making them wonder apropos what was happening.
"What are the guards doing? Sir Cador, I thought you've already warned the sentries to not disturb us at any cost?" Iophiel asked Baron Peniel Cador as he stood up.
Peniel, the 12th seated knight of the Rounds, was in charge of Xhervon. It's the sole order which didn't have a single knight in it - The order was made up of sentries and foot soldiers.
"Yes, My Lord. I instructed them the instant that I landed on the palace's grounds. Would you like for me to check on them?" The Baron responded, assured that he didn't make a mistake.
"No need. I'll do it."
Duke Cynan briskly sauntered towards the doorway to inspect. To his consolation partly in his walk, the Duke's ignorance of the unceremonious event was immediately damped when the double doors started to reveal the aperture. However, shock registered on his face once he recognized the person who was causing the ruckus.
"I-i announce the arri-arrival of H-his Majesty, the Emperor!" The sentry who was stationed at the corridor frantically annunciated, nearly spitting in the process. The other guards were already prostrated on the floor, doing their best to avoid the gaze of the monarch.
It's not an understatement to say that knights were horrified of what was transpiring. Even some of the Rounds were dazed for a moment.
It's a perfectly reasonable reaction, considering that the Emperor seldom appeared in gatherings. If his absence in an assembly would dictate the fall of the Empire, then that'd be the time only time he'd voluntarily attend it. The current conference wasn't consequential by any means. Thus, it validated the knights' confusion.
The Grand Cordon escaped the comfort of his seat to welcome the Emperor properly. Mikhail ambled apace en route the entrance, the rest of the Rounds trailing him. They all genuflected on one knee and bowed their heads when they reached the appropriate distance to give their greetings.
"Rakshena Ast Sacra Efidarum Volhn Ohnia. I apologize for our belated salutations, Your Majesty." Mikhail addressed the Emperor, loud enough to wake the stupefied knights who were still sitting.
The whole assemblage scrambled to be on their feet. They then bent their upper torsos forward as a late show of respect.
Meanwhile, the Emperor simply acknowledged the reception with a nod afore speaking.
"All of you, arise." He said his command, which was duly followed by his retainers. Subsequently, they all stood as motionless as they could, awaiting the Emperor's words.
"Sir Percival, dismiss the whole conference with the exception of the Rounds."
After hearing the behest uttered with a tone of urgency, Mikhail gave the monarch a questioning stare. He didn't want to acquiesce to this demand since this convocation was only held four times in an aethras. Also, for the reason that the horde inside the hall was the top brass in the Imperial knight order, they didn't exactly have that much free time to spare. The Emperor should be aware of that fact.
"Your Majesty, we have many agendas left to discuss. We cannot reschedule this meeting. It would be difficult for them to stay in the capital for an extended period of time. Please be seated, or I'll allow someone to escort you back to the Frumier palace. I wi-"
"Dismiss it this instant. Don't let me say it twice." The Emperor declared as he traipsed past by the Grand Cordon and headed straight for the latter's seat.
Percival's eyes shut pronto, despairing that he saw the person he was hoping not to see throughout the dier. Withal, not only did they meet, the monarch even intruded the space wherein he's reputed to be in control as the leader.
'First, he turned up unannounced. Then, he took over my reign just like that? What a drag! Is he out of his mind?! Oh Deities who are watching this atrocity, have mercy on the enemy!' His screams of pain could be exclusively heard inside his head.
The Rounds pitifully looked at their commander, yet they did not offer any acts of consolation lest triggering his aggravation further. Since they couldn't leave their backs turned against the Emperor, the lot hurriedly joined him in the table, deserting Mikhail by the passageway.
Concurrently, Mikhail Percival was doing his best to calm himself down by regulating his breathing. Après a few seconds, he regained the faux serenity in his heart. He proceeded to face the crowd, who was eagerly biding for his deliverance.
"The details of the tactics that we'll be utilizing in our manoeuvre for the war will be thoroughly outlined in a written report. The report will also include the other matters that we were supposed to tackle. It will be distributed upon completion. For now, vacate the hall." The Grand Cordon finally issued his directive. Latterly, he made his way beside where the Emperor settled himself down.
The knights wordlessly adhered to Mikhail's instructions. They filed out of their seats in an orderly manner, letting their comrades who're in the bottom rows to take their exits first.
Save for the reverberation of footsteps, nothing else was heard from the unplanned march.
Once the last knight egressed the towering archway of the great hall, the doors were promptly closed by the sentries. The thirteen people, who tarried inside the room, chose to cater to the relaxation provided by the quietude for a good minute. It ended when the Emperor began his talk.
"We might have to engage in battle sooner than anticipated."
Mikhail gazed at the monarch, unimpressed of the usual occurrence.
"What seems to be the problem, Your Majesty? Did you offend another nation through your insouciant countenance?" The knight retorted. At this point, he didn't care about the consequences of practising impertinence anymore.
Withal, he regretted his action the moment he harkened the actual peril that they were currently under.
"The gates connected to the three fiefs on the north-eastern corner of the Empire have been destroyed. Six Demon Nobles' Sigils have fully integrated into the area. Furthermore, we still have no news regarding the state of the citizens that were imprisoned by the barrier that the Demon Nobles erected."