The torrential rain pressed against the eaves, beating on the bronze rain gutters with a dull thudding sound.
Inside the house, only a single fireplace was lit, the weak light unable to illuminate the beams.
The Second Prince, Kaelin, sat at the desk, his shoulders slightly hunched.
He had been staring at the military and political list for a long time, his sutured stump aching intermittently, like the cold moisture seeping into his bones.
The feathered pen in his hand gently struck out the third name on the list.
It was the commander of the Twenty-Third Legion, who had once sworn allegiance with his own mouth, and they had once fought side by side.
But today's intelligence reported that the main force stationed outside the Royal Capital submitted a transfer request to the Ministry of Finance controlled by the Fourth Prince this morning.
Kaelin stared at the name smudged by ink, his throat constricted as if being choked.
