Nightfall, A secluded manor on the northern border.
Vaross Kine sat at its head, Governor-designate of the Northen State, though his jaw was clenched so tight. The decree parchment lay open before him.
Governor. Not Duke. Not sovereign of his own lands.
Governor, answerable to a boy‑king and watched by that old viper Loki Falk.
"Unacceptable," he growled.
A figure moved from the shadows by the door, armored in black lacquer plates. An envoy from Omega Kingdom.
"You seem... displeased, Governor Kine."
Kine's fingers curled around the parchment. "They strip my title. Chain me to their leash. And that Falk whelp thinks he can watch me." His glare flickered to the envoy." I still command three legions along the border. That is not nothing."
"Is it?" the envoy asked simply, stepping closer.
Kine's eyes narrowed. "Omega Kingdom meddling in Bolt affairs? That would spark war."
A faint smile. "War is... profitable."
