Throughout the sprawling noble district of Valemir, emergency meetings convened with the frantic urgency of a disturbed anthill. In manor houses and private clubs, over hastily arranged luncheons and carefully orchestrated social calls, the empire's aristocracy grappled with news that would reshape the political landscape.
At House Valorian's ancestral estate, Lord Commander Marcus Valorian paced the length of his war room like a caged wolf. The walls around him displayed centuries of military honors, battle standards from campaigns that had shaped the empire, weapons wielded by ancestors who had died for imperial glory, portraits of family members who had given their lives in service to the crown.
"The Duke moves decisively," he declared to the assembled representatives of the Sun Faction's military houses. "Finally, someone with the courage to address the Southwestern situation properly."
