Lord Rivas Oberoi had always believed that composure was the greatest weapon a man could possess.
It was the one thing that separated rulers from fools. Yet for a single heartbeat...he nearly lost his. His fingers tightened behind his back.
His jaw clenched.
His gaze remained fixed on the grand doors of the Royal Palace balcony as they swung inward. King Aldirk Zeppelin VII emerged. The crowd below erupted into cheers that shook the very stones of the courtyard, but Rivas barely heard them. His attention was fixed on the figure walking at the King's right hand.
Alaric Auro Dukker.
The Lord of Blackwood moved with practiced grace, his white robes accented with the deep crimson of his region. His expression was calm, composed—the face of a loyal subject. His hand rested lightly on the King's elbow, guiding the monarch forward with an intimacy that spoke of years of trust.
Rivas' expression did not change. Inside, however—
'Snake.'
The word surfaced before he could stop it.
His pulse accelerated. Thoughts came faster than he could control them, a flood of suspicion and paranoia that threatened to overwhelm him.
He forced himself to inhale.
'No. Calm yourself. Think....think.'
He slowly exhaled through his nose.
'You're overreacting.'
Alaric had always stood close to the king. Closer than any of the sixteen regional lords. Merely walking him to his throne was hardly unprecedented.
Rivas' eyes drifted toward his fellow collaborators. He glanced at Lords Baiden and Ki Lin Feng. Both were the epitome of composure, their faces betraying nothing. Baiden's hands rested calmly on his knees. Ki Lin Feng's gaze was fixed on the King with the perfect expression of loyal respect. Neither showed a trace of the anxiety Rivas felt. Cardinal Ljudevit didn't bat an eye.
'Good.'
That meant they had reached the same conclusion.
Nothing had happened. Not yet. Alaric was merely suspicious. Dangerous, but only suspicious. The true threat remained someone else.
Emma Gable, Captain of the 7th Division of the Enforcement.
Talented, certainly. Persistent, annoyingly clever but still merely a captain. It won't take much influence to shut him down. A word in the right ear. A little bit of financial motivation. A—
Rivas forced himself to stop. He was spiraling. He needed to see the board clearly.
His eyes swept across the gathering.
Representatives from every major institution of Aerthos stood assembled beneath banners embroidered with hydrangeas.
The West Cardinal Ljudevit Mlinar stood as the representative of the Pontifex of the Sacred Orthodox Church, immaculate white robes and blue sash with the crest of the church fluttering softly in the morning breeze.
A Grand Inquisitor stood nearby, her face shrouded in a veilrepresenting the High Inquisitor himself. It would not be surprising if the High Inquisitor was secretly among the gathering, watching from the shadows. The Grand Inquisitor's presence was a reminder that the Inquisition's eyes were everywhere.
The High Commissioner of the Enforcement, leader of the kingdom's military forces, sat with rigid posture, his gaze fixed on the King.
The Chief Justice of the Punishers, the head of the kingdom's judicial system, observed the proceedings with a neutral expression.
And the Sixteen Lords—the rulers of Aerthos's regions—were arrayed in their seats like pieces on a chessboard. Rivas noted them all: Lord Baiden, Lord Ki Lin Feng, Lord Dahl, Lord Shirogane, Lord Nova, Lord Sinclair, and the others. Each one represented a piece of the kingdom's fragile unity.
Every institution that mattered had sent its strongest voices.
There was also one envoy from Nordhelm in their midst.
Power gathered beneath one sky.
Rivas' thoughts drifted back toward Emma. His gaze drifted to a man in naval uniform—a Vice Admiral acting as a proxy for the Royal Fleet.
Could he pressure the boy?
Threaten him?
Silence him?
His relatives...
He mentally sorted through them.
His father, Sir Eddie Gable, was the leader of the Blackwood Knights, the squad of royal knights guarding the Blackwood region. That would be difficult—Blackwood was Alaric's domain, and any threat to Sir Eddie or his wife would be seen as a direct attack on the Lord of Blackwood. The only other relative was Fleet Admiral Estrue Gable, a woman of such power that any move against her would invite immediate, catastrophic repercussions.
Which left only Emma himself.
'I'll have to deal with the boy directly then,' Rivas decided. 'I'll plan the how later.'
He looked around the balcony and noted the empty seats. Lord Mellou was absent. Lord Vaughn was nowhere to be seen. And Headhunter Dante Clementes wasn't in attendance as well.
Three variables.
Three people who generally leaned toward Alaric's side. All of them were far away from Aerthelberg at the moment.
'Good'
Without them Alaric's influence weakened considerably. Rivas allowed himself the smallest smile.
Just a touch.
A tiny push.
That was all it would take. Remove Alaric and the board would finally become manageable.
His gaze briefly met Baiden's. Then Lin Feng's. No words passed between them. None were necessary because they had reached the same conclusion.
The King moved slowly, each step a visible effort. His silver hair had lost much of its former luster. His face was pale, his eyes sunken, dark circles resting beneath them, his frame thin and frail. He had once been a powerful man—tall, broad-shouldered, commanding. Now he was a shadow of his former self, leaning heavily on Alaric's arm as he made his way to the throne.
Even breathing appeared to require effort. The magnificent white ceremonial robes hanging from his shoulders looked almost too heavy for him.
Behind him walked his queens and their children. Eleven queens followed the King, their white robes accented with the crest of House Zeppelin. They walked with measured grace, their expressions carefully composed, their eyes betraying nothing.
The children followed in order of birth.
Alaric helped the King sit down on his throne, his movements gentle and respectful. He knelt on one knee, his head bowed.
Aldirk Zeppelin VII placed a trembling hand on Alaric's head.
"Thank you, my old friend. Your support... it means more than you know."
"It is my honor."
Only after ensuring the monarch sat comfortably did Alaric rise and return toward his assigned seat.
As he walked away, the king's hand lingered briefly on the armrest. Almost as though reluctant to let his support leave.
The gesture did not escape Rivas. Nor anyone else's.
The queens arranged themselves behind the throne.
Queen Afreyie Zeppelin.
The king's first wife. If she were alive King Aldirk would have had twelve wives
Gone.
Her seat remained draped in white silk. Untouched.
The remaining eleven queens stood according to precedence of thier children. In Aerthorian culture a royal child was called 'Prince' regardless of gender similar to bearing the title of 'Lord.'
First Prince Leon Zeppelin, heir apparent, sat with his mother, Queen Irena. He was in his mid twenties, tall and handsome, his features sharp, his gaze confident. His white robes were accented with gold, the color of House Zeppelin.
Second Prince Viola Zeppelin, aged twenty-two sat beside her mother, Queen Amara. She was beautiful, poised, and utterly unreadable. Her white robes were accented with silver, and she carried herself with the practiced grace of a diplomat.
Third Prince Phoebe Zeppelin, aged twenty followed with her mother, Queen Seran. She was quieter than her siblings, her eyes downcast, her expression distant. Her white robes were accented with lavender, and she seemed to drift rather than walk.
Fourth Prince Kush Zeppelin,also nineteen sat with his mother, Queen Isolde. He was broad-shouldered and stern-faced, his gaze sweeping across the crowd like a general surveying a battlefield. His white robes were accented with crimson, and he carried himself with the authority of a warrior.
Fifth Prince Mirelle Zeppelin, aged eighteen sat with her mother, Queen Mira. She was small and delicate, her features sharp, her eyes bright and curious. Her white robes were accented with green, and she seemed to be the only one of the royal children who was genuinely enjoying the festival.
Sixth Prince Rowan Zeppelin, walked beside his mother, Queen Lyra. He was young, aged sixteen, his face still carrying the softness of youth. His white robes were accented with blue, and he walked with the nervous energy of a boy unsure of his place.
Seventh Prince Hermes Zeppelin, fourteen was alone—his mother was Queen Nadia. He was lean and sharp-featured, his gaze cold and calculating. His white robes were accented with black, and he walked with the quiet intensity of a predator.
Eighth Princess Naomi Zeppelin, thirteen walked with her mother, Queen Celeste. She was beautiful, poised, and utterly unreadable. Her white robes were accented with rose, and she carried herself with a cold air, her expression deadpan.
Ninth Prince Orion Zeppelin, thirteen followed with his mother, Queen Vesper. He was tall and handsome, his features sharp, his gaze warm and open. His white robes were accented with amber, and he smiled at the crowd with an ease that seemed almost genuine.
Tenth Prince Bjorn Zeppelin, twelve yeears, walked with his mother, Queen Niamh. He was lean and sharp-featured. His white robes were accented with jade, and he walked with the quiet intensity of a predator.
Eleventh Princess Selene Zeppelin, aged ten followed with her mother, Queen Tania. She was small and delicate, her features sharp, her eyes bright and curious. Her white robes were accented with violet. She seemed tired of the festival and looked like she'd rather be anywhere but there.
One figure remained absent.
The Twelfth Prince Raileigh Zeppelin. Age, seven.
His empty place drew more attention than if he had stood there himself. Alaric settled into his chair. Behind him Gyan positioned herself so that her shadow merged naturally with his own. To anyone watching she simply appeared to be standing respectfully behind House Dukker's lord.
Only Alaric heard her voice.
"How did it go?" she asked.
Silence followed.
His gaze drifted toward the royal family. Then down at the crowd. The kingdom was more fragile than anyone knew. House Zeppelin was fractured—the King's multiple wives had produced a brood of children, each one a potential heir, each one a source of conflict. The succession crisis had been simmering for years, and now, with the King's health failing, it was about to boil over.
People blamed the king believing he did nothing but watched while corruption spread.
None of that was true.
Aldirk had fought.
For years.
Too many years.
But one man could not hold together an entire kingdom forever. Corruption had become rooted within Aerthos. Worse still those interests had intertwined themselves with the princes.
Twelve children. Twelve possible heirs. Endless ambition.
When the first queen Afriyie failed to bear children during the early years of their marriage, duty had demanded the king take additional wives.
When the first queen Afriyie failed to bear children during the early years of their marriage, duty had demanded the king take additional wives. He hated it, everyone close to him knew that. Yet a kingdom required succession.
One by one new queens entered the palace.
Children followed. Each birth strengthened one faction and weakened another.
Then everything changed.
Seven years ago, against all expectation...Afriyie concieved. Celebrations quickly turned into fear. If the beloved First Queen bore an heir every existing claimant would instantly become politically weaker.
Plots emerged almost overnight.
Assassination attempts.
Poisonings.
Sabotaged physicians.
Corrupted servants.
Alaric still remembered those months.
During the queen's final month someone succeeded.
The poison entered her body unnoticed. The resulting agony forced premature labor. She gave everything to ensure the child survived.
By dawn...
Queen Afriyie Zeppelin was dead. Only the infant remained.
The king never truly recovered. Grief hollowed him and soon afterward the mysterious illness began, an ailment no physician or healer had ever managed to cure.
Then fate twisted the knife further. Alaric's gaze found Raileigh's empty seat.
Years later, around the same period Elias Dukker awakened, Raileigh awakened as well. Years later, around the same period Elias awakened, Raileigh awakened as well. Not with an ordinary Trait but an Anomaly Class.
The Fool.
Even more shocking...
The young prince openly declared before court that he would defeat every sibling for the throne.
From that day onward the palace ceased being merely political. It became a battlefield of defamation campaigns, poisonings, assassination plots, secret alliances, blackmail, proxy conflicts.
Every prince gathered supporters.
Every noble chose sides.
Every institution quietly gambled on its preferred successor.
The public knew almost nothing.
Today they celebrated beneath flowers.
They laughed.
Sang.
Shared food.
Yet beneath those smiles the kingdom balanced upon a knife's edge.
Alaric looked down toward the courtyard again. He spotted Araba.
Jamie.
Maria.
Then Elias.
Even from this distance the ridiculous maid headband remained impossible to miss. His lips twitched despite himself. He looked over the crowd and saw the children laugh with excitment.
'Good. Let them laugh.'
Children deserved laughter. Not the politics of old fools.
"The king cannot delay much longer," Alaric replied mentally.
"An heir must be named before this festival ends."
"Or?"
"Or Aerthos tears itself apart."
Gyan remained silent because she knew. Everyone close enough to power knew.
His staff struck marble once, the sound echoed across the palace courtyard.
"People of Aerthos!"
The murmuring below ceased. Silence spread.
"His Majesty..."
The great banners fluttered overhead.
"...King Aldirk Zeppelin VII..."
Thousands waited.
"...will now address the kingdom."
The old king slowly rose. His hands rested upon the balcony railing. He looked out across the endless sea of white hydrangeas, toward the countless citizens waiting below.
Then opened his mouth to speak.