The court adjourned with the sound of ringing steel and murmured prayers.

As the Emperor rose from his throne, the nobles dispersed in slow, rippling waves of silk and armor. No one dared speak openly in Aric's presence — not yet. They whispered in half-formed sentences, their faces twisted in doubt, anger, and, beneath it all, fear.

Aric stood motionless as the guards approached. His posture was relaxed, but every line of his body radiated quiet control.

Serina, still cuffed beside him, wore the faintest ghost of a smile — the kind born not of amusement, but of dangerous satisfaction.

The High Marshal strode down the steps toward them, his voice hard as hammered iron. "The Emperor will consider your words, King of Byzeth. Until then, you will remain within the palace — as guests."

Aric tilted his head, eyes flicking to the ring of armed knights that surrounded them.

"Guests with a hundred blades for company?"

The Marshal didn't answer, only gestured sharply. "Escort them to the eastern wing."

As the guards formed around them, Serina leaned close, voice barely above a whisper.

"You think he'll believe you?"

Aric's eyes stayed forward. "He already does. He just needs time to let the fear settle into resolve."

"Fear?"

He nodded. "Every ruler learns quicker through fear than just faith."

---

The corridors of the Draken Palace were vast and golden, lined with dragon bones and crimson tapestries that shimmered like captured flame. Every torch they passed hissed faintly, as though alive.

Their path wound through hallways that grew quieter with each turn, until finally they were led to a chamber overlooking the eastern gardens — their "guest quarters."

The door shut behind them with a heavy thud.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Serina was the first to break the silence. She threw herself into a chair, pulling her bound wrists up.

"You know, for a guest, I feel suspiciously like a prisoner."

Aric sat across from her. The chains fell from his wrists with a flick of his fingers, their locks clicking open.

Serina blinked. "You could've done that earlier?"

"I could've," he said, tossing the cuffs onto the table. "But I'd rather not embarrass the already betrayed Emperor""

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You really do play everyone like a board game, don't you?"

His gaze drifted toward the window — the garden below was bathed in molten sunlight, its fountains shaped like dragon heads, their waters tinted faintly red by the minerals in the stone.

"If you want to win against gods and monsters," he murmured, "you learn to play both."

---

Hours passed.

When dusk fell, the palace lights dimmed, replaced by the glow of enchanted braziers that burned blue along the walls.

A faint knock sounded.

Serina glanced toward the door. "Expecting company?"

Aric rose. "Always."

He opened it — and there stood Grand Chancellor Veras, the same man who had read the letter in court. His expression was tight, every movement calculated.

Behind him, two guards waited, but Veras gestured for them to stay outside.

"His Majesty wishes to see you," he said quietly. "Alone."

Serina began to stand, but Aric lifted a hand. "It's fine." He gave her a small nod — a silent reassurance. "Stay here."

She frowned.

Veras led him through silent corridors until they reached a narrow, torchlit passage behind the throne room. The air here smelled faintly of incense and hot stone.

At the end of the hall, beyond a half-open door, the Emperor waited.

He had shed his armor, now dressed in a simple dark robe. Yet even without his crown or regalia, Adrast Draken looked every inch the ruler — shoulders straight, gaze heavy with centuries of lineage.

"Leave us," he commanded softly. Veras bowed and disappeared into the shadows.

For a moment, the Emperor simply studied Aric. "You walk into my empire, slay three of my Crusaders, and claim you saved me. Aren't you too bold?"

Aric inclined his head. "Perhaps, but I've come to realize the importance of such drastic measures."

Adrast's lips curved faintly — not a smile, but a test. "You speak like one who has seen too much death to fear his own."

"I've seen worse than death," Aric said.

The Emperor's eyes narrowed, as though weighing the truth of that. "You've handed me the proof of treachery — a letter that will shake my court to its core. If it's genuine, then the Crusaders' betrayal runs deep. If it's false, it's an act of war. Which is it?"

Aric's voice was steady. "It's both."

The Emperor raised a brow.

"The letter is genuine," Aric continued. "But the war — it will come whether you acknowledge it or not. Northrend does not forgive interference. When they learn their infiltrators have fallen, they will strike. Harder than you expect."

Adrast folded his arms. "And you? You claim to have come here to help, yet every step you take smells of alterior motive. Tell me why, truly, you came to Draken."

Aric's eyes glinted in the low light. "Because Sylas Valerian is not done using you."

That name broke the Emperor's composure.

Adrast's hand tightened into a fist. "Sylas…"

Aric nodded slowly. "He orchestrated the rebellion in Byzeth. Funded the trade of your own dragons to Northrend. Your Crusaders were merely his pawns. He intends to pit our nations against each other, let us tear ourselves apart while he strengthens his claim to Valeria's throne."

For the first time, silence settled not in hostility, but understanding.

The Emperor walked toward the window, the faint reflection of firelight flickering against his face. "If what you say is true… he plays a dangerous game."

Aric's expression was cold. "He always has."

Adrast turned back to him. "Then tell me, King of Byzeth — what do you want from Draken?"

Aric didn't hesitate. "Alliance. Temporary, if you prefer. When Northrend moves, your armies will need time to rally. I can buy you that time."

"You speak as though time itself were currency."

"To me," Aric said quietly, "it always has been."

The Emperor studied him for a long while. Then, finally, he nodded once. "If your words hold truth, Draken will remember your deed. But if they prove false, not even your gods will save you."

"I wouldn't expect them to," Aric said simply.

---

When Aric returned to their quarters, Serina was already leaning against the balcony rail, the night wind tugging at her silver hair.

"Well?" she asked without turning.

Aric sat beside her, resting his arms against the stone ledge. "He believes me. Mostly."

"That's progress," she murmured.

He looked out across the burning city lights — the streets glowing like veins of fire beneath the dark sky. "For now, Draken will stand still. But not for long."

Serina turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"The letter gave them fear," he said. "But fear fades. When it does, ambition will fill the space it leaves behind. If Sylas wanted chaos, he'll get it — just not the way he expects."

"You think he'll move next?"

Aric smiled faintly. "He already has. We just haven't seen the wave reach us yet."

The sound of distant dragon cries echoed across the city — long, low, mournful.

Serina sighed. "Every time I start to think we can rest, you remind me why we can't."

Aric's tone softened. "You can, if you want to."

She glanced at him — genuinely surprised. "And leave you to your grand designs?"

"I'd rather you be free of them."

Serina laughed quietly, the sound brittle but warm. "Too late for that, Aric. You dragged me into this web from that moment in your estate withering garden."

He smiled. "Then we'll keep walking the threads together."

The wind shifted — the faint smell of smoke, the city's pulse alive below.

Two shadows stood against the railing of the Draken Palace, the rising moon painting their silhouettes in silver.

Beneath them, the empire shifted — a beast unaware of the storm already weaving its way toward its heart.

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