POV: Chris Blackwood & Lord Veyron Blackwood
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Chris Blackwood's POV
Imperial Throne Chamber — 1:23 PM
Chris sat still, the sun slanting through the stained-glass dome above, casting royal blue and gold streaks across the marbled floor. The room was quiet save for the hum of distant operations—Black Axe units returning, reports flying in, territory tallies being processed.
He sipped from his goblet of darkfruit elixir when the alert chimed.
A golden seal blinked on the left side of his console. Zeta-99 Priority Request. His eyes narrowed.
He tapped the screen.
"Fifty billion credits," he murmured, scanning the request.
"Lord Veyron," he added, voice low but with weight. "Of course."
Skylar, seated silently across the room with a scroll in her hand, looked up. "That Eastern noble again?"
Chris didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back, pulling up the accompanying proposal. It was detailed, overly ambitious even—Titan Rail—a high-speed magnetic line that would link the eastern reaches of the empire to the heart of Blackwood.
A good idea. Strategic. But fifty billion?
"He dares submit this without kneeling before me personally?" Chris thought, amused.
Still, he admired the audacity. The empire was built on boldness. But boldness without permission?
He snapped his fingers. "Summon the Dictator. I want all past financial records from Veyron's domain. If he wants an empire-sized coin, he better have an empire-sized reason."
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Lord Veyron's POV
Eastern Dominion, Noble Hall — 1:28 PM
The tension in the air was a noose around his neck.
Veyron sat on the throne within his lesser court, not as grand as the Emperor's, but carved from obsidian mined during the Third Expansion War. He wore black and silver—traditional war noble colors—and kept his hands clasped behind his back.
The room was silent.
"He hasn't responded," one of his aides said quietly. "But the request passed initial verification. It reached him."
Veyron's jaw clenched. "Good."
"Should we prepare the pitch for the public if it's approved?"
"No." Veyron shook his head. "Nothing is public until the God of the Empire himself breathes on it."
His voice held both respect and fear.
Fifty billion. It wasn't a loan—it was a risk, a gamble for influence. If the Titan Rail succeeded, his legacy would be cemented in the stones of the empire's growth. But if Chris denied it? Or worse—if he saw it as arrogance?
Veyron's fate wouldn't be financial ruin. It would be erasure.
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Chris Blackwood's POV
Imperial War Table — 1:41 PM
The Dictator arrived swiftly, scrolls and holograms following her like loyal pets. Christiana gave him a deep bow and unrolled Veyron's prior projects, taxation rates, bribe history, and military allocations.
Chris reviewed them all in seconds.
"Three instances of inflated contracts," he said coldly. "Seven bribes not reported. Two backdoor trades with non-Blackwood border brokers."
Christiana nodded grimly.
"So… he asks for my coin but hides his dirt?"
Chris stood.
"Summon him. Personally. Tell him: If you want fifty billion from me, bring your neck to the capital. Let me measure the weight of your intent with my own eyes."
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Lord Veyron's POV
A raven-encoded message arrived
He opened it with a shaky hand.
"Lord Veyron. You are summoned by Emperor Chris Blackwood. Your presence is required at the Imperial Seat. Come unarmed. Alone. Prepare to kneel."
His throat went dry.
The dice had rolled. Now he'd either build the rail... or become one of its first casualties.
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