Imperial Capital, Imperial Hall.

The dome made of boulders towered high in the sky.

At the center of the dome, a gigantic chandelier forged from alchemy and eternal fire demon patterns slowly rotated, with blue flames blazing brightly, yet without any hint of heat.

This everlasting flame, sealed and refined by the Empire's exclusive alchemist using celestial fire, has been burning for three hundred seventy-two years, never extinguishing, symbolizing the unyielding will of the Empire.

The four walls embedded with twelve massive antique emblems, each from the twelve original old cities of the Empire.

From the shattered dragon shield of Dragon Breath City to the crescent spear of Ghost Breeze Ridge, each observed this sanctuary of power solemnly and silently, as if they were the petrified incarnations of millennial imperial authority.

The royal throne stood high above the top steps, as a Divine Being gazes upon the world.

Emperor Ernst August sat on the throne, the black and gold dragon-patterned robe cascading down the steps like a giant dragon curled up.

The eternal fire on the dome failed to illuminate his face, the shadow of the high position enveloping like a curtain, allowing only a glimpse of a cold silhouette, but never his expression.

Beside him stood only one person, Chief Steward Lin Ze, wearing a black silk-patterned magic robe.

A crescent-shaped long table surrounded the imperial steps in a semicircle.

More than twenty dignitaries wearing official robes and family emblems sat in order.

There were grand dukes, princes, privy councilors, legion commanders, finance controllers, representatives of the Eight Great Clans, representatives of new nobility...

The seating was arranged based on titles, military achievements, bloodlines, and actual power.

Every one of them held high positions and authority, but at this moment, they were silent as cicadas in winter.

They spoke in low voices, perusing reports, some coughed, others feigned composure, but every now and then, all eyes subconsciously glanced towards the throne.

As if a sleeping giant dragon sat there, whose opening eyes could determine the fate of each of them.

This was the Empire's highest council, the Dragon Throne Meeting.

And the true heart of this millennia-old Empire, with every beat, it dictated the joys and sorrows of hundreds of thousands of lives.

Eleanor wore a family shawl with red base and moon patterns, expressionless, but her heartbeat was far from calm as it appeared.

Even though she had served as the Calvin Clan's representative in the Imperial Capital for over a decade, well-versed in the open and hidden struggles among the city's families, every time she stepped into this "Imperial Hall," her nerves would quietly tighten.

This was not merely a meeting hall, but a materialization of the Empire's will.

A faint scent lingered in the air, known as the "Dragon Blood Fragrance."

This ceremonial incense, said to mix with the essence blood of true dragon descendants, was used exclusively in imperial settings, extremely subtle, but penetrated the marrow, oppressively making one involuntarily clench their fingers.

Even more unsettling was the "sound."

Within the Imperial Hall, whether footsteps, speech, or the rustling of papers, all were suppressed into a peculiar low frequency by the arranged echo arrays, as if being in a deep well.

Even the tiniest sound became piercingly loud and unavoidable in this well.

And whenever the Emperor moved slightly, the base of the obsidian throne would emit a humming rhythm.

Not vibrating the eardrums, but the soul.

In that instant, Eleanor even felt that her heartbeat skipped half a beat, a slight chill spreading on her back.

She quietly adjusted her breathing, restraining her tension, having already read Duke Calvin's letter.

This time she needed to win for Louis the "Empire-recognized actual power status in the Northern Territory."

But it must be done with utmost caution, not allowing anyone to perceive that it was the Calvin Clan's arrangement.

This was an ultimate test of social skills in the Empire's highest council.

Eleanor had already met with a few old friends in advance, all representatives of families within the Empire that had alliances or debts with the Calvin Clan, briefly exchanging stances and terms before the meeting.

Whether they could indeed voice support for her proposal in the meeting remained uncertain.

Eleanor's fingertips silently tightened, her hands clasped more firmly beneath the shawl.

Pressure surrounded her like seawater.

This concerned not only Louis's future but also the pivotal moment for her family to potentially take root again in the Northern Territory.

She slightly raised her head, gazing at the throne seemingly capable of devouring all sound, swallowing a mouthful of saliva.

The atmosphere in the hall was frost-covered.

Though the Imperial Hall was not short of illustrious dignitaries.

Each person seated at the table was a figure capable of shaking a province or a county, yet no one dared to speak rashly at this moment.

Everyone's breathing was suppressed to the minimum, even coughing was intentionally suppressed, as if fearing to disturb the dead silence in front of the throne.

In fact, even before the meeting was formally convened, a few councilors of noble birth had protested vocally.

Their children, as members of the Imperial Dragon Blood Legion, had fallen in the Northern Territory during the "Doomsday Nest" battle.

Included were individuals talented and of illustrious bloodline.

They were excellent members of their families, some even expected to become the next generation's patriarchs.

Yet they fell on the twilight front of the Insect Tide, their bodies lost.

Some grew angry, others resentful.

They attempted to bring these emotions into the meeting, to issue "gentle inquiries" to the throne.

Why such hasty deployment? Why was the battle line so isolated? Why was the Empire's support so belated?

However, those voices were coldly muted during the preliminary briefing prior to the meeting by Steward Lin Ze's statement "The Empire will provide full compensation," leaving no echo.

No one continued to ask further.

Those seated at the table understood well.

Certain answers the Emperor might already have prepared, merely waiting for someone to speak them aloud.

The time had come.

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