The royal court was assembled beneath the high arched ceiling of the Imperial Hall, its towering columns casting long shadows in the amber light of the late morning. The Emperor sat on his throne—serene, unreadable—crowned but silent.
Rythe stood before him, clad in military black and crimson, the mantle of his rank resting heavily across his shoulders. He didn't wear a crown. He didn't need one. His posture alone commanded the room.
To his right sat Crown Prince Malaeus, composed and contemplative. Princess Rhalia, Vaela, and Astrid flanked their siblings with poise, their expressions unreadable, though tension curled in the lines around their mouths.
Kael sat far to the left—silent, unusually so. His eyes were lowered, his jaw clenched. He had not spoken a word since entering.
Rythe's voice broke the silence.
"Your Majesties, my lords and ladies of the court," he began, his voice crisp, even. "This morning, I bring a matter of security to your attention."
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. The entire court strained to catch every syllable.
" My guard and I apprehended Vereth—a noble and once trusted friend to this family, now revealed to be a traitor. He attempted to lure members of the royal family beyond the kingdom's border under false pretenses. Upon confrontation, he chose to take his own life rather than name the kingdom he was serving."
A stir swept through the chamber.
Rythe continued, his expression cold and calculated.
"We do not yet know who sent him, but the intent was clear—disruption, division, and possibly more. Though the danger seems to have passed, I believe it would be a grave mistake to let our guard down."
He turned slightly, letting his gaze sweep across the room.
"I will be assigning new posts and responsibilities to strengthen our defenses, increase intelligence monitoring along all borders, and ensure the kingdom is prepared in the event of siege or supply disruption."
His tone turned colder, sharper.
"The enemy may lie low after this failure. But they will try again. We must be ready—this time, we will not be caught unaware."
He gestured to an aide, who stepped forward with a list.
"Princess Rhalia and Prince Elion, you will reinforce the eastern garrisons and oversee the border surveillance with our allies in the Delven Reach."
"Crown Prince Maleus and Princess Vaela, you will oversee the auditing of food storehouses and begin contingency logistics for emergency supply distribution, especially in the mountain regions."
"Prince Dain and Princess Astrid, begin discreet inspections of our outer watchposts and courier stations. I want every horse, blade, and map accounted for."
"High Lords of the court," he said, turning to the nobles, "your families will receive notice of new supply routes and guard rotations. Expect a change in scheduling to keep routes unpredictable."
Kael remained still.
Rythe addressed him without looking directly at him.
"Prince Kael," he said, his tone formal, impersonal. "You will oversee fortification repairs in the western valley. Reports of weakened outposts must be addressed."
Kael gave a brief nod. His lips didn't move.
"Our strength lies in our unity," Rythe said to all of them. "Not in false comfort, not in appearances. If war is coming, I intend for us to meet it with order and force—not panic."
He gave one final bow to the Emperor.
"By your leave, Father."
The Emperor leaned forward slightly in his throne. His face was carved from stone, unreadable even to Rythe.
"Granted," he said simply. "Carry it out. Let the court move."
With that, Rythe turned and strode from the center of the hall, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor. Not a soul in the room dared to speak until he was gone.
Behind him, Kael exhaled slowly, his jaw still locked.
No one knew Vereth had been his ally. And for now, Rythe would keep it that way.
For now.
The emperor's private study was quiet—too quiet.
The fire burned low in the hearth, casting flickers of shadow along the marble busts and heavy velvet drapes. Outside, the distant toll of bells marked the change of hour, but inside the room, time seemed suspended.
Emperor Valien stood by the tall window, hands clasped behind his back, his silhouette sharp against the amber dusk. He hadn't spoken since the court adjourned.
When the knock came, he didn't look up.
"Enter."
The door creaked open, and Crown Prince Malaeus stepped in—his bearing stately, but his eyes dark with storm.
He didn't bow. He didn't greet his father.
He closed the door behind him and stood in silence.
The emperor finally turned.
"You should be preparing the logistics for the eastern supply lines," Valien said coolly.
"And you," Malaeus answered, "should have stopped this long before now."
The emperor's jaw tightened. "If this is about Rythe—"
"It's always been about Rythe, hasn't it?" Malaeus cut in, voice low but sharp. "And Kael. And me. And this entire fractured family."
He stepped forward, his crown glinting faintly in the firelight.
"He said the things we all thought. Things I didn't have the strength to voice. But I will now."
Valien said nothing.
"You let Kael spiral. You indulged him, you turned blind eyes to his ambition because you hated the idea of me loving an omega. Because you saw weakness in me—your heir."
"It wasn't weakness I saw," the emperor replied. "It was sentiment."
"Then damn me for having a heart," Malaeus snapped. "Damn me for loving someone who wasn't born a political tool."
His voice cracked slightly, the anger laced with a deep ache.
"You nearly let Aurean die. A boy who did nothing but survive and try to belong. And Rythe…" He trailed off, then drew a shaky breath. "Rythe has carried burdens meant for five men. And none of us—none of us—ever stepped in to ease it."
The emperor's eyes flickered, but he remained still.
"He saved my beloved when you ordered him killed. He saved Vaela, Astrid, Rhalia—how many times must he bleed before you recognize his worth?"
"He's not asking for recognition," the emperor muttered. "He never has."
"No," Malaeus agreed bitterly. "Because he knows he'll never get it from you."
There was silence.
Then Malaeus continued, quieter.
"The child. His child. Your first grandchild. Dead, do you realize what we've become?"
The emperor's face darkened.
"I have ruled this empire for forty years—"
"Then act like a father for once in your life," Malaeus bit out. "Not just an emperor."
A long silence passed.
Malaeus turned toward the door, voice dropping to a whisper.
"You still have sons left. Daughters. A legacy worth salvaging. But if you keep ruling your family like you rule your court, Father... you'll lose both."
He paused with his hand on the door.
"I envy Rythe," he added softly. "Not for his power. But for his clarity. At least he knows who he is."
And with that, he left.
The emperor stood alone again.
But this time... the silence was not peace.
It was a reckoning.