Damian exhaled heavily through his nose, his gaze fixed for a brief moment on the double door that closed behind Astana. He shifted his focus from the intricate detailing of the doors to the stack of documents waiting for him. There were some political delegations to distribute, as well as a treaty with the Paisian Kingdom that was pending.

He pinched the bridge of his nose while inhaling slowly. King Edmund was relentless, pushing for a political marriage between Damian and his daughter, Princess Anya. The old fox had already dangled the girl in front of Agaron's former crown prince, Olivier, before the alliance fell apart. Now, he was fishing for a new deal, hoping to ensnare Damian in the same trap.

As if he would ever be so easily caught.

He ran a hand through his black hair, ruining Edward's work in taming it. He'd hear about that later, no doubt. Edward really liked scolding him any time he could.

The upcoming coming-of-age ball was more than just a show. The nobles were free to think whatever they wanted, but Damian chose this moment to restart the traditions for a variety of reasons. His younger brother, Christian, the Duke of Lyon, would step into adulthood, and with that, he would be the one to marry Princess Anya. It was the perfect move. Christian would gain a stronger position in court, the Paisians would secure their marriage alliance, and Damian would remain free to choose his mate.

There was nothing for Paisian Kindom to object to; in fact, they asked for a marriage with the imperial family, not necessary with the Emperor.

Only the tought of having to entertain the Paisian envoy make him growl. There was no end to their bullshit. They thought that because he was young and with no political experience before rising to the throne of the Empire, he could be fouled.

He was more than sure that they would do anything to put their little pown of a princess in his palace.

He scowled, fingers tapping against the metallic base of his imperial seal. The golden block, shaped like a sleeping wolf, shimmered under the light of the chandelier. It was etched with magic, making it impossible to replicate or to be used by anyone but him.

The thought of entertaining the Paisian envoys made his jaw tighten. Their constant posturing and flowery diplomacy were nothing more than thinly disguised attempts to manipulate him. They assumed that because he had risen to the throne young, with no prior political experience, he could be fooled. He ascended to the throne solely through violence and force, rather than by forming alliances.

Let them believe it.

Damian smirked darkly. He would strike right when they thought they had him.

His fingers drummed steadily against the seal as he considered his next move. If Astana proved competent enough to complete his assignment on time, then perhaps Damian could accelerate the coming-of-age ball. There was no fixed date yet, but it was expected to take place within the next two months. He could move it up and hold it in a month.

Max would likely snap at him for it, but what else was new?

If he announced his search for an empress within the month, it would shift the court's focus entirely. The Paisians would lose power, the nobles would scramble for their own candidates, and Edmund's carefully planned strategy would fail.

A sharp grin tugged at the corner of his lips. Edmund thought that he was sneaky with his actions, but Damian knew that he also wanted Donin Republica.

Internally, George Claymore and Hadeon Lyon were his biggest enemies, one by it's military force and the second with his influence in the high society. Damian could keep one under control at a time, but George's decision to align with the von Jaunez family was unexpected.

Damian hated when his authority was under pressure by people like George. He didn't necessarily want more power, but he wanted to make sure that even the Emperor couldn't do what he wanted.

A soft knock stopped him from his rithmic tap on his sigil. Edward entered, followed by a few servants that set the table from the corner of the office. They moved efficiently and left with a short bow to him.

Edward, his ever-diligent butler, didn't speak right away. Instead, he approached the desk with the quiet grace of a man who had served long enough to know exactly how to handle his master. His eyes flickered to the mess of documents, to Damian's tousled hair, then finally back to his face.

Damian held his butler's unwavering gaze and waited for him to order him around as usual. Not may could escape alive after submintating his authority.

"Your Majesty, your dinner is ready." Damian smiled before rising from his chair and getting to the small table from the windows. Edward used the official address only to show how pissed off he was. He disapproved of the Emperor eating in his office, but he knew better. The last time he insisted that Damian eat in the dining room, the man surprised him by simply not eating. He did not want to waste time walking back and forth through the vast palace.

Damian moved to the table and looked at the plate before him. He picked up his knife and fork and cut into the perfectly seared steak, the rich aroma of the charred crust mixed with a hint of garlic and rosemary filling the room. He had no appetite. Still, he ate slowly, as if distracted by thoughts other than the meal.

"I must admit, I did not think you would give the boy another chance." The personal was already informing Edward of Damian and Astana's brief conversation.

"Edward, as much as I appreciate your care, stop listening to my doors. Otherwise, I will pluck your ears." Damian let the cutlery on his plate; his tone was low, filled with threat.