The imperial palace square was vast—spanning nearly a hundred thousand square meters.
It was reserved for special ceremonies or important announcements delivered directly by the Emperor to the people of the imperial capital.
At this moment, the usually quiet square was packed with people.
Citizens from all walks of life—nobles and commoners alike—had gathered, their faces filled with confusion and curiosity.
"Does anyone know why His Majesty the Emperor summoned us all?" one of them asked, puzzled.
"No idea," the man beside him replied. "But it must be something incredibly important."
"Could it be about war?" added a man on the left. "Our empire has been at odds with the Holy Empire of Valtanir, and there were rumors that war might break out between the two."
"That sounds like a reasonable guess," the first man said. "But I hope it's not true. If it is, the chaos could be devastating. The Holy Empire of Valtanir is second only to the Great Velmora Empire in power."
"Not to mention their elite Sky Wing Knights—famous for being nearly invincible. I doubt we'd win so easily."
Those around him nodded in agreement. In the end, wars only served the ambitions of the high and mighty.
It was the common people who always paid the price.
Many disasters follow in the wake of war—famine, disease, soaring food prices, and more.
It is a misery no one wishes to endure.
While the commoners discussed and speculated about the Emperor's reason for gathering them, nobles of higher rank—from Viscount to Marquis—had assembled on an elevated platform.
"Tsk! Marquis Caltheron, I must admit, I'm surprised to see you arrive so early. The announcement regarding the succession must have made you uneasy."
A dashing middle-aged man with red hair approached a younger man seated in one of the Marquis' designated seats.
At his words, Marquis Caltheron turned to him with a calm, composed expression.
"It's been a while, Marquis Velmire. Naturally, I'm uneasy. The succession to the throne is a monumental event—it could reshape the entire structure of the empire," he replied lightly. "I'm sure you feel the same, don't you?"
Marquis Velmire gave a soft chuckle and nodded. He sat down beside him and said, "Yes, I'm just as anxious. This is no small matter. I couldn't even sleep last night."
After the announcement of the succession was delivered to the princes, the noble families received official notice as well.
Although they claimed to be ready, the fear and unease in their hearts were undeniable.
Marquis Caltheron couldn't help but smile at his words. He glanced at Marquis Velmire from head to toe.
Marquis Velmire was a well-built man, with defined muscles visible even beneath his robes.
His fiery red hair gave him a bold, commanding presence, and his tall frame made him stand out among the other nobles.
To be honest, his appearance didn't quite match the typical image of a noble family head. Yet in many ways, he fit the role perfectly.
In contrast, Marquis Caltheron had a slender yet tall build. His gray hair and signature glasses were unmistakable trademarks.
While his face wasn't particularly handsome, his confidence and charm were more than enough to attract the attention of many noblewomen.
"By the way, have you made your choice?" Marquis Velmire's curious voice came from beside him.
"Not yet. I'm still considering," Marquis Caltheron replied calmly. "But I believe only three princes truly have a chance of winning."
The three princes he referred to were Aldric, Cedric, and Adalen. As far as he was concerned, the other candidates lacked the strength to compete.
"You're right," Velmire said with a nod. "I have strong confidence in Prince Aldric, but Princes Cedric and Adalen are formidable as well. This succession is more complicated than ever—it must be approached with great care."
He—Marquis Caltheron—and the other heads of noble families held the highest authority in the voting process that would shape the future of the empire and their own lineages.
Their choices would determine whether their families would survive—or fall. The succession to the throne marked the beginning of a new governmental order.
The prince chosen as Emperor would ascend the throne and lead the noble families who supported him to power and prosperity.
It wasn't impossible for lower-ranking nobles, such as Barons, to rise and become Viscounts or even Counts—depending on whom they supported.
On the other hand, those who backed the losing prince often faced severe consequences. Some were demoted to the lowest tiers of nobility; others were completely wiped out, leaving behind nothing but fading names forgotten by history.
It may sound cruel, but this was the reality of the battle for the throne. The entire process existed to ensure that the new Emperor held absolute authority and could prevent any future rebellions.
Thanks to this method, the Great Velmora Empire had maintained its stability for over a thousand years.
While the two continued their conversation, the other noble family heads began arriving one by one.
They came from Viscount, Earl, and Marquis families. The Dukes, however, had reserved seating in a more prestigious section—closest to the main stage, where the Emperor and the princes would soon make their appearance.
Just then, the palace square, which had previously been filled with the lively chatter of the crowd, suddenly fell into a hushed silence as the most majestic and powerful figure in the Great Velmora Empire appeared on the main stage.
The figure was tall, well-built, and imposing, exuding a subtle yet commanding aura of dominance.
Simply by standing there, he made everyone in the square feel an unsettling tremor in their legs.
Without warning, the four Dukes seated near the main stage rose in unison.
They placed their right hands over their chests and bowed deeply before him.
"Welcome, Emperor! Long life to you and your entire family!"
At once, the leaders of the other noble families and the people who filled the square echoed the sentiment, rising in unison and following with the same respectful gesture.
"Welcome, Emperor! Long life to you and your family!"