The grand dining hall of the imperial palace was anything but peaceful. The annual breakfast ceremony—meant to be a dignified gathering of the Emperor’s consorts—was quickly unraveling into barely contained chaos. Servants hurried to refill cups, the clatter of porcelain and hushed whispers filling the air, while a few of the more spirited concubines bickered over seating arrangements.

At the head of the long table, Valen Winters exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around his teacup. His silver, ice-like eyes swept over the room, cold and unreadable, though the slight twitch of his brow hinted at his growing irritation. Dressed in his usual crisp black and silver robes, he radiated authority—and the unmistakable aura of a man who had absolutely no patience for nonsense this early in the morning.

With a sharp glance, he silenced a minor argument between two concubines squabbling over who sat closest to Atheleyah’s empty chair. His deep voice cut through the noise like a blade.

"Enough. If you have time to argue over trivial matters, then you have time to eat in silence."

The room quieted, though a few daring ones shot him petulant looks before returning to their plates. Valen ignored them. He was here out of duty, not enjoyment. His role, as always, was to maintain order in Atheleyah’s absence.

He lifted his cup to his lips, exuding an air of effortless authority as he spoke again, voice calm yet edged with finality.

"Eat. Speak only if necessary. And if any of you start another petty dispute, I will personally see to it that you regret it."