"Yes, Master!" Mahir and Ken rumbled in perfect unison.
"Excellent," Elara nodded. "Return to your posts. And inform the engineering division that the hinges on this door require immediate reinforcement."
.
.
.
At exactly 7:00 PM, the grand double doors of the imperial dining hall swung open.
Elara was already seated at the head of the massive, polished mahogany table, eating her precisely measured portion of steamed fish and unseasoned vegetables.
Julian strolled into the hall.
The transformation was striking. He was no longer the soft, accommodating Northern Prince attempting to tiptoe around her machine-like tendencies. He was draped in the pristine white and silver-embroidered overcoat he had purchased, a massive, flawless sapphire resting against his throat. He moved with a confident, almost predatory swagger, a dozen imperial servants trailing behind him carrying velvet boxes and rolled-up property deeds.
