The black-haired man in royal attire spoke with an air of indifference, his eyes piercing with a cold determination. "He must be dealt with," he declared, his voice laced with an unsettling certainty.
His name is Daniel Fanix, the eldest son of Damien and Emilia Fanix, stood before them, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He was no stranger to the intricacies of politics, having grown up amidst the power struggles of the royal court.
Damien, the current emperor, choked on his food, incredulous at the audacity of his son's suggestion.
"Cough... cough... Bastard, do you wish for our destruction?" Damien hurriedly scolded his eldest son for even thinking something as stupid as that.
"You cannot be serious," he managed to sputter between coughs, his gaze a mix of disbelief and anger.
