***
{Outside The Projection}
Every eye in the hall turned.
One by one to a man.
Him alone.
Azeem.
They knew it already.
Finally, finally, it was his turn.
The one they all previously hated.
Calling him the Sultan's Right Hand as an insult.
Now, though, such a Title was of extreme honor.
It weighed completely differently.
Azeem had been there, beside him.
Through the rise, through the rot, through the fire.
He was one of only a few who stuck with Malik till the end.
A reliable constant that always supported his Lord.
And though he'd left near the end—abandoned or forced, it didn't really matter—the truth was clear: Azeem had made it further than any of them.
So they all looked, waiting and expecting something.
But he didn't move or reveal any reaction.
He remained on the ground, legs crossed, quietly staring at the projection.
Azeem stared for a long while until finally, a smile graced his face.
