"There is still no reply from the Duke of North?"
The question hung in the lavish chamber, where the very walls gleamed with gold plating, their surface glistening under the sunlight pouring through towering windows.
Intricate artistic borders cast delicate shadows upon the polished stone floor, while the ceiling boasted a masterpiece of exquisite design.
The entire room was a gallery of unparalleled luxury, adorned with priceless paintings and sculptures, each a testament to the empire's wealth.
Two knight-guards stood beside the grand entrance, clad in full armor from head to toe. Their breastplates bore the emblem of the Imperial Knights —two crossed swords over a shield, a mark of prestige and duty.
Each held a gleaming longsword with a golden hilt engraved with the same insignia, while their other hands gripped heavy shields that could withstand the fiercest of blows.
At the center of the room, a massive wooden table, crafted from the rarest and most expensive wood, stood as a symbol of authority. It was designed for the empire's high-ranking officials and nobles, its craftsmanship unmatched.
Eight chairs were arranged around it—four empty, four occupied by the ministers, each bearing the weight of political expertise.
Their eyes, weathered by years of navigating plots and power struggles, observed the room with quiet intensity.
A sudden bang echoed through the hall.
[BANG!]
"HOW DARE THOSE NORTHERNERS IGNORE US?!"
The voice belonged to the Minister of Gold, the man responsible for the empire's finances, taxation, and wealth distribution.
His face, lined with wrinkles yet swollen with arrogance, flushed red with fury. His corpulent figure trembled with rage, his pride wounded by the silence from the north.
"MINISTER!"
A calm yet authoritative voice cut through the uproar. Unlike the Minister of Gold, this man carried himself with a refined nobility.
His features were sharp, aged by wisdom rather than indulgence. His calculating gaze swept the room, cold and piercing. Raising a hand, he gestured toward the knights at the entrance.
Without a word, the knights bowed and exited, sealing the room in silence.
"Lower your voice, Minister." the man continued, his tone steady but laced with warning. His lips curled into a subtle, knowing smile. "These walls have ears, you should know that."
A bead of sweat trickled down the Minister of Gold's forehead as he swallowed hard.
"Ye—Yes, Minister of General Affairs."
The Minister of General Affairs, tasked with overseeing the empire's administration and coordinating between ministries, leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable.
"I understand the frustration of the Minister of Gold, and I must say I agree."
The voice belonged to a younger man—far younger than any other minister in the room. His white, unblemished face gleamed with confidence, his sharp green eyes scanning the table as he spoke.
"As a member of this council and a loyal follower of the Second Prince of our Great Empire. I, the Minister of Land, propose that we immediately halt all commercial trade with the northern territories."
As the Minister of Land, he was responsible for overseeing territorial expansion, agricultural policies, and land management within the empire.
Silence followed his statement.
Then—
"Hahahaha…."
A burst of laughter shattered the moment.
The Minister of General Affairs, usually composed and solemn, let out a booming laugh. His shoulders shook, his professional facade breaking apart for the first time in years. His amusement echoed off the golden walls, filling the chamber with his mirth.
On the other side of the table, the Minister of Gold lowered his head in embarrassment, sweat glistening on his forehead as he clenched his trembling fists.
"Haha… Oh! It's been a long time since I laughed like this." The Minister of General Affairs wiped a tear from his eye, his expression shifting back to its usual calculating form. "Well then, Minister of Commerce, what do you think of the young one's opinion?"
The Minister of Commerce, the iron-willed regulator of trade, sat unmoved. His sharp brown eyes narrowed, his arms crossed in clear disdain.
Unlike the others, he was known for his bluntness, a man unafraid to speak his mind, even in the presence of royalty.
"What you're suggesting, young minister, is completely illogical and utter nonsense." His voice was crisp, cutting through the air like a blade. "This is exactly why I was against appointing an inexperienced child to a ministerial position."
The words struck like a dagger.
The Minister of Land's jaw tightened, his hands clenching under the table. The insult burned, but he refused to let it show. Instead, he forced a bitter smile and replied with deceptive calmness.
"My apologies. But do enlighten us, Minister—what action should we take instead?"
The Minister of Commerce scoffed.
"There is nothing we can do except wait."
The Minister of Gold's expression changed—his face growing paler, his lips pressed tightly together, as if suppressing something. His beady eyes darted around the room.
[BAM!]
The young minister had finally reached his limit. His patience snapped like a bowstring, and he shot to his feet, slamming his hands against the table.
"WHY SHOULD WE WAIT?! WE ARE MINISTERS! OUR ORDERS—ARE—ABSOLUTE!"
His voice thundered through the hall, shaking the very air. The sheer audacity of his outburst left the others in stunned silence. But sensing an opportunity, the Minister of Gold joined in, his voice growing bolder.
"THAT'S RIGHT! WE ARE THE PILLARS OF THIS EMPIRE! THEY MUST FOLL--"
"ENOUGH!"
The Minister of Commerce's patience had reached its end. His intense glare locked onto the young minister as he, too, shot up from his chair.
"YOU FOOLS! DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING?!"
"AND DO YOU THINK SITTING AND WAITING WILL SOLVE ANYTHING?!...."
The Minister of Land roared back.
"....THE NORTHERN DUKE INSULTS US BY IGNORING US! IF WE SHOW WEAKNESS NOW, HE WILL DO AS HE PLEASES!"
[BAM-!]
"AND IF WE FORCE HIS HAND, WE RISK WAR!"
The Minister of Commerce countered, slamming his fist against the table.
"ARE YOU PLANNING TO DRAG THE EMPIRE INTO CONFLICT OVER YOUR IMPULSIVE FOOLISHNESS?!"
The young minister clenched his fists, his blood boiling. "WATCH YOUR MOUTH, MINISTER. I AM ROBERT MA—"
"SILENCE!"