"Tell me, Billion," the Emperor said, his voice low but steady, "what do you think will happen if we go to war with the Holts?"
I let the silence stretch for a few seconds. Only the soft clinking of his teacup touching the saucer broke the quiet.
"If we plan it right," I finally said, "we can hurt them. Badly. I'm not talking about just a symbolic win—I mean real damage. Remove key pieces. Break their reach.
And if we do it right… we won't have to suffer too much in return. They've been a threat growing inside the Empire for too long. Cut them out before they rot the rest of the body."
The Emperor nodded slowly.
"They have nineteen Grandmasters," he said. "The Empire has forty-two. But we can't use all of ours like they can.
Ours are scattered, needed to keep back the Abominations, the Phantoms, and to monitor both Peanu and Sukra.
