Beneath the tall mosaic stained-glass window, inside a royal palace on the outskirts of Changge City, Duke Omes sat impatiently on the throne.
His right hand was clenched under his chin, while his left hand, with bulging veins, gripped the wolf-head armrest tightly.
Before him were two rows of courtiers dressed in silk garments and thick black robes, pointing fingers at each other and arguing loudly.
However, upon closer inspection, the noise revealed two distinct factions.
"Cardinal Nard," said Colin, the Alchemy Minister, smiling insincerely at the elderly priest across from him, "Didn't you guarantee that using the Red Dragon's Breath would certainly destroy the Saint Union's engine laboratory, and they wouldn't be able to build new machines within ten days?"
Now look! The Red Dragon's Breath we spent such a fortune to steal was just wasted by those Falan!"
The criticized elder, about seventy years old, sported a neatly trimmed waterfall-beard.
