"You're saying that our dear Count Radcliffe has left his own domain once again and ran off to who-knows-where?"
In the world of Mycroft, within the study inside Morlaix Palace of the Northern Empire, the burly and imposing Israel looked up from heaps of documents. His Imperial Majesty blinked a few times and scrutinized his visitor for a moment, before inquiring with a tone as if it was perfectly normal.
"How long has he been gone?" he asked, even as his right hand was still marking or correcting documents and request for instructions, while his left was holding a unique silver barbell, lifting it in training. Still, while the Emperor's voice was calm and mild, anyone could discern that it was also helpless and unhappy.
"Ahem. Father, as you know—Moldavia no longer requires direct governance of its liege…"
