Imperial Palace
Lucinova, Casteria
~
Durans watched beyond the balustrades of his balcony as servants and slaves hustled this way and that to prepare the soiree that his grandfather had arranged – celebrate the life of Martyr Julius and the death of Nikolai Grisha Kazbirati alike.
But the fucker wasn't dead. There was absolutely no possible way that the feral child of Bozhidar would so easily be felled by poisoned wine – especially since that was his weapon of choice against his own father.
Still, the letter to the emperor, which he had inconspicuously swiped from the old man's desk, since Durans knew there would be little transparency in the matter, was exhaustive in nature. Written by the old advisor and close friend of the emperor, Marius, the detailed description of the late tsar's dead, unmoving body, colder than an ice drift, made it impossible for him to convince his grandfather that Nikolai had somehow tricked them.
