The Emperor is dead.
A collective gasp echoed through the grand hall, as the weight of those words sank in.
Nobles, merchants, and dignitaries—men and women who had once vied for the Emperor's favor—now stood frozen, their faces a mix of shock, fear, and disbelief.
Some clutched their chests as if struck by an invisible blow, while others exchanged frantic glances, their minds racing to comprehend the sudden shift in power.
Whispers spread like wildfire, filling the room with a low, anxious hum as the once-celebratory atmosphere was now thick with tension as the gravity of the situation started to dawn on everyone present.
However, amidst the chaos, Alaric, the main conspirator of the Emperor's death maintained a stoic facade, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed the reactions around him.
His mind was already working on the next move, but outwardly, he appeared just as stunned as the others, his act completely flawless.
