British Empire

Arthur sat at a massive oak desk, covered in a thin layer of dust, as if the very air in the office had long since grown weary of waiting. An open book lay on his lap, the words on the pages glimmering in the fireplace light, but his gaze kept drifting from the lines to the door. The silence seemed almost tangible, and even the antique clock on the wall ticked more quietly, respecting this silent tension. He leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a rare moment of peace, and chuckled slightly.

— He's late.

Everything was ready for a conversation that could change everything. If we were to share the world, then only with him. If we were to subjugate it, then together. Nothing else mattered.