The palace are still buzzing with frenetic energy that seemed to seep into every corner, echoing the importance of the day. Servants are still rushing through the gilded hallways, carrying robes, ceremonial oils, and floral arrangements. The sound of their hurried footsteps, the faint chiming of bells, and the occasional barked command from an overseer, still filled the air. It was a grand day for the empire, and no detail could be overlooked.
In his private chambers, Izan sat near a tall window, his sharp gaze drifting momentarily to the bustling gardens below. His chambers reflected his status: spacious with high, arched ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of celestial bodies, and large windows draped in silken curtains embroidered with the imperial crest.
The scent of polished wood mingled with the faint aroma of incense burning near the altar dedicated to the empire's ancestors.
