When Edwan hurried back to the Imperial Palace, the interior and exterior had already returned to calm.
Inside the Emperor's bedchamber, several princesses and dozens of maids surrounded the large bed, most with solemn expressions.
The old Emperor lay on the bed, maintaining steady breaths, but his eyes could no longer open. His left hand, exposed from the blanket, was wrapped in a white bandage.
"How is Father?"
Edwan asked in a deep voice.
Princess Dana shook her head gently, eyes red-rimmed, and General Fremont could only bow his head and sigh.
"Brother," Emilia said softly, "Father is already old. It is a fact we must all accept."
"I know, it's just..."
Edwan embraced Emilia, gently patting the back of her neck, gazing upward at the lamp beside the bed.
