Chapter 191: The Impending Storm of Bloodshed - III

At this moment, the nobles and ministers in the hall were almost in tears. Indeed... indeed! The empress is senile, the princess is rampant, but our Lord Ansel will never disappoint!

"An —"

"Ansel."

Evora had barely begun to speak when the elderly empress's voice from the throne overpowered her.

The dark eyes of Ephesande, aflame with a fierce fire, lit up with delight. She laughed merrily, lightly patting the armrest of her throne, which was ablaze with blood-red flames.

"Come, come to my side."

Ansel bowed slightly, "Your will, Your Majesty."

"..."

Evora remained silent, her gaze fixed on Ansel as he calmly approached the throne, the fury in her eyes growing more restless.

Upon reaching the throne, Ansel bowed again to the empress, "Forgive my long absence, Your Majesty."

"Heh heh heh... There's no need for such meaningless formalities between us."

The empress, who seemed to have forgotten her own words, stared intently at Ansel. Her eyes, long shrouded in death and madness, seemed to be filled with an uncontrollable... greed?

Ansel merely smiled, seemingly oblivious to the oddity in the aging empress's gaze. He spoke softly, "But you are still the supreme ruler of this land, the sole master of the entire empire."

"In such a setting, respect and courtesy towards you are necessary."

Flames.

The entire hall was suddenly engulfed in flames that appeared out of nowhere.

As the temperature soared and the large blood-red flames on the throne roared, the empress's laughter, filled with extreme delight, echoed throughout the spacious hall, accompanied by the sound of the flames bursting.

"Ha ha ha... Good, very good! Ansel!"

"Your Majesty."

The speaker was a middle-aged man, dressed in luxurious clothes and standing tall.

Nasema, the Duke of Luminaris among the thirteen grand dukes of the empire, one of the nine highest seats in the Etheric Academy, one of the current de facto controllers of the Etheric Academy, and one of the few grand dukes who arrived in the imperial capital as soon as they learned that Ephesande had restarted the court meeting.

He bowed deeply and spoke to the emperor with utmost respect, "Lord Evora is preparing to assist the Etheric Academy in developing a powerful alchemical creation called 'Mechanical Armor'."

"Hmm..."

The empress's fingers tapped lightly on the armrest, disappearing and reappearing in the blood flames, "If it's a powerful alchemical creation, why didn't you report it to me, but instead collaborated with Evora?"

The overwhelming intent to kill was evident in these casual words.

The Duke of Luminaris, who was questioned in this way, did not show any signs of panic. He simply bowed his head lower and spoke in a very respectful and humble tone:

"Because any so-called 'powerful' alchemical creation is nothing more than a piece of scrap metal to you. The Elder Princess still needs to grow, and this is also a way to add strength to the princess and the empire. Moreover, when the mechanical armor is completed, no matter who has invested resources in it, it will ultimately be yours, won't it?"

His answer, while somewhat irritating to Evora, was flawless.

Clearly, the empress was very satisfied with this answer, but it seemed that she was not just satisfied with this.

"Since it will ultimately be mine, then... there's no need to wait until then."

Evora suddenly looked up, her gaze filled with a mix of shock and anger as she stared at Ephesande, this empress who had long disappeared, who declared in an irrefutable tone:

"This so-called mechanical armor is mine now." She waved her hand casually, "Nasema, manpower, resources, use them as you see fit. I want to see the finished product in seven days."

This Duke of Luminaris showed no signs of surprise, but simply bowed gracefully, "Your will, Your Majesty."

By this point, the true intent of this morning court meeting was self-evident.

The empress, still indifferent to the affairs of the empire, was particularly "concerned" about her rebellious daughter, the increasingly arrogant heir.

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