At the Calvin family's castle in Central City, the tension hung thick in the air.
"Sir, you need to leave now!" The butler, Albert, bowed deeply as he urged Benedict.
The old man stood on the terrace of the ancient castle, his left hand gripping a cane and his right clutching an ornate signet ring. "Albert, how long has it been since our ancestors escaped there?"
"It's been exactly four hundred and fifty years this year."
"Four hundred and fifty years." His gaze darkened as it fell on the distant mountains and waters of Elden Prime. "I would be the twenty-first of Varmoket if we had stayed with the Empire."
"Yes, sir." Albert's eyes flickered anxiously toward the approaching Lev from the military. "Sir…"
"Call me 'Your Majesty!'" Benedict interrupted, his gaunt face twisting with anger as he glared at the incoming Lev.