The grand dining hall of the Imperial Palace stretched out before Lysander Voss, the soft glow of candlelight flickering off the marble floors and ornate gold-trimmed walls. The long table, draped in rich crimson, was set with gleaming silverware and goblets filled with deep red wine. At the head of the table sat Emperor Valerius Von Oris, his powerful presence undeniable even in silence. His eyes, cold and sharp, observed the room with a calculating gaze, while beside him, Empress Seraphina sat poised, her expression as still and icy as ever.

Crown Prince Caius lounged in his seat to the Emperor’s right, his sharp blue eyes trained on Lysander as he approached. The tension in the air was palpable, every glance and movement carrying the weight of centuries of imperial power.

Lysander, as always, moved with quiet grace, his long white hair perfectly styled, his golden eyes scanning the imperial family briefly before he took his seat near the Emperor. The silence hung for a moment longer before Valerius finally spoke, his deep voice filling the hall.

"General Voss," the Emperor greeted him, his tone authoritative yet calm. "Your presence here tonight is more than just a formality. How fares the war effort?"

Lysander met Valerius' gaze, his face as unreadable as ever. "The rebellion is weakening, Your Majesty. Their leaders are scattered, and morale is low. It will not be long before they fall completely."

The Emperor's gaze remained unyielding, but a faint nod indicated his approval. "Good. The Empire has no patience for rebels and dissenters. We must crush them swiftly, lest their ideals spread like a disease."

Caius, leaning back in his chair with a smug smirk, cut in. "Is that so, General? And yet, the rebellion still breathes. One would think that, with all your reputation, this war would have ended months ago."

Lysander turned his golden eyes on the Crown Prince, his expression as calm as ever. "War is not a simple affair, Your Highness. Every move must be calculated, every action deliberate.”