Oswald exhaled a sigh of relief. Michael''s agreement was a small victory amidst the chaos.


    But as Michael turned away, his mind was already preparing for the battles to come.


    "Does the Emperor truly intend to surrender? No… A man who''s clung to power for this long will not yield so easily. If he cannot keep it, he will destroy everything."


    In the heart of Pamillian, Emperor Maximilian I woke with a start, his luxurious chambers lit by the soft morning sun.


    Still in bed with his concubines, he stretched lazily, his mind drifting to his youngest son''s betrayal.


    "That fool Oswald," he muttered, "has thrown away everything for what? To side with my enemies? If they think I''ll give up my throne without a fight, they''re sorely mistaken."


    He rose, his regal figure still imposing despite his age, and donned his robe. He had spent the last few weeks preoccupied with siring a new heir, knowing Oswald''s defection meant he could no longer trust his current lineage.


    But his musings were abruptly interrupted by the sound of frantic banging on his chamber doors.


    Maximilian''s anger flared.


    "Who dares disturb me at this hour?"


    The doors flew open, and his captain of the guard, Conan, stumbled in, covered in blood.


    "Your Majesty! We must flee! The rebels—rebels with foreign allies—are storming the city as we speak!"


    Maximilian''s eyes widened.


    "Rebels? Foreign allies? What madness is this?!"


    Conan''s voice trembled as he continued.


    "They''ve brought airships and monstrous beasts. The city''s defenses are falling one by one!"


    The Emperor''s fury turned to icy resolve.


    "Then so be it. Prepare my guard. I will face these invaders myself. Let them know that Maximilian I does not cower before anyone!"


    The final battle for the Empire had begun


    Maximilian I, still lingering in the remnants of a sweet dream, was jolted awake by the urgent cries of his guard knight. Struggling to maintain his imperial composure, the emperor turned his gaze to the knight before him. The man''s left arm had been severed just below the shoulder, and thick streams of blood poured relentlessly from the wound, soaking the luxurious carpet beneath their feet.


    Maximilian deliberately ignored the sensation of the knight''s blood seeping onto his bare feet and demanded, "What is this commotion? Are rebels attacking us? And what foreign power are you speaking of?"


    The emperor''s calm demeanor stemmed from his confidence in the might of the Imperial Guard stationed in the capital. This elite force, led by the renowned strategist and chancellor Mufasa, was among the finest in the empire. Maximilian believed they would effectively delay any enemy assault, giving him time to call in reinforcements from the surrounding provinces to encircle and crush the invaders.


    However, the guard knight, frustrated by the emperor''s lack of understanding of the gravity of the situation, stomped his foot in exasperation. His eyes were filled with terror, and his trembling jaw betrayed his fear. What he said next froze Maximilian in place.


    "The Imperial Guard… they''ve allied with the foreign forces and are storming the palace. Your Majesty, you must flee at once!"


    Before the knight''s words had fully settled, Maximilian''s dark eyes ignited with rage.


    "Mufasa! That wretch dares…!"


    The emperor''s furious outcry reverberated through the corridors. The realization that Mufasa—his most trusted ally and, in many ways, his right-hand man—had betrayed him was a devastating blow. Desperation threatened to consume him, but Maximilian quickly forced himself to assess the situation rationally.


    "Damn it… Have they discovered my plans? That fool, too honest for his own good," he muttered under his breath, suppressing his emotions with measured breaths. Anger wouldn''t help him now; what he needed was cold, calculated judgment. sea??h thё novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "If Mufasa has led a rebellion, the mastermind must be Oswald," Maximilian concluded, his voice low and bitter.


    The knight clutched his severed arm, bowing his head as his consciousness waned. Even so, he remained determined to fulfill his duty. In a desperate tone, he conveyed the dire news.


    "Yes… Your Highness, the crown prince is leading the charge alongside Chancellor Mufasa and the foreign forces. They have already breached the inner palace."


    Maximilian snorted derisively. "Hah! That scum doesn''t deserve to be called a crown prince. Where are the remaining knights?"


    He swiftly pivoted to the matter of the imperial knights defending the palace. The rebellion was beyond containment; the only priority now was identifying forces capable of protecting him.


    The guard knight, pale as a ghost, raised his head. He could no longer feel anything from his severed arm, and his eyes were hollow as he replied, "They are holding their ground at the inner gates. I came ahead to ensure Your Majesty''s safety."


    The knight''s legs began to falter, his body trembling uncontrollably as blood continued to stain his armor a deep crimson. Despite superhuman willpower keeping him upright, his limit was near. His lifeless eyes betrayed his exhaustion.


    "There''s no time, Your Majesty. You must flee… now," he pleaded with his final strength. As the last words escaped him, the knight collapsed. His knees buckled, and his blood-soaked body crumpled to the floor.


    But even this pitiful end failed to move Maximilian. The emperor frowned in irritation, muttering under his breath, "Damn fool. Who did you think you could protect in that sorry state? You should have brought at least one able-bodied man with you."


    Grumbling, Maximilian hurried to a massive wardrobe on the far side of the room. Ornately decorated to suit his imperial tastes, the wardrobe was crafted from black ebony wood and adorned with golden engravings and glittering jewels.


    Inside, an array of finely embroidered silk garments and fur-lined robes hung neatly. The emperor snatched the first piece of clothing within reach. Regardless of the urgency, an emperor couldn''t flee in disgraceful nudity.


    As he hastily dressed, his thoughts raced to the palace''s hidden escape routes. The ancient palace of Famillian was riddled with secret passageways, but their abundance was no guarantee of safety. Both Oswald and Mufasa were likely familiar with most of them and had probably sealed off key exits.