The grand hall of the Imperial Court stood cloaked in majesty—sunlight spilling through crystal-paned windows, casting long shadows beneath towering pillars gilded in silver and gold. Every noble house was represented. Every voice of power in Ardan was present.
At the high dais sat the Emperor, solemn and silent, beside the Empress, whose eyes scanned the room like sharpened blades. They were flanked on both sides by the full strength of the royal line.
Kael, sharp-eyed and still.
Vaela, icy and unreadable.
Dain, relaxed but clearly alert.
Elion, reclined slightly, his smirk daring someone to speak against them.
Astrid, expression cool and assessing.
Rhalia, dignified, her hand resting atop that of her poised alpha-spouse, Serin.
Maleus, standing tall, with his omega consort Thalan at his side — a quiet pillar of strength.
The atmosphere was dense with unease. Not because of a visible threat—but because two figures stood at the heart of the royal circle who, by tradition, did not belong there.
Thalan and Serin, the non-noble, non-titled spouses of the empire crown prince and princess.
Whispers rustled through the room like dry leaves in wind.
At last, Maleus stepped forward, the court quieting under his presence. He stood before the high seats, eyes sweeping the crowd.
"Rythe has departed on a strategic journey beyond our borders," Maleus said, voice firm. "A covert mission to uncover the unknown threat that endangers our empire."
He surveyed the gathered nobles without blinking. "In his absence, security and military oversight fall to me, per his decree. Measures have been enacted to protect the empire and everyone in it. And until Rythe sends word, those measures shall remain."
The murmurs began—low but swelling.
He paused—but before he could continue, a tall, silver-haired noble rose from the second tier of court seats.
Lord Cedric Marvane, head of the Marvane family and father to both Byron and Calien, gave a polite, measured bow. But his voice rang with challenge.
"Pardon the interruption," Cedric said, voice measured but loud enough to echo, "but there is an unspoken irregularity in this chamber."
He looked directly at Serin and Thalan, then back to Maleus.
"Why are they present in the court? Neither bear noble blood, nor titles, nor any standing that would warrant their inclusion in matters of state."
A few nobles murmured their agreement. Others nodded more subtly.
The silence that followed was broken not by Maleus—but by Mira, one of Rythe's newly appointed omega knights, who stepped forward from the court's edge.
Clad in the armor of the Crescent Sigil, Mira strode across the marble floor and handed a sealed document to Scribe Herath, the old man who handled all court decrees and policy enactments.
Everyone watched as Herath broke the seal.
Then, in a steady voice, he read aloud:
"Protocol Directive 3. Enacted by Commander Rythe Damarion. Sealed, ratified, and witnessed. Under Directive 3, the Commander of Arms retains imperial override under wartime conditions, including redefinition of court presence and security clearance. All individuals named in the attached appendix—regardless of rank or origin—are to be recognized as official imperial attendees, with access to council and defense protocols as necessary."
He glanced up, stunned, but continued:
"This directive is binding. Noncompliance shall be considered an act of obstruction against the empire."
The hall fell utterly still.
Even Cedric Marvane sat down, jaw tight.
Serin raised her chin.
Thalan lowered his gaze respectfully—but did not retreat.
Maleus returned to his seat slowly, leaned back, and with a faint, almost lazy smile, said:
"Shall we then continue?"
The sound of silence was louder than thunder.
And then, one by one, the scribes resumed their records. The court obeyed.
The sun had dipped low over Ardan, bathing the palace's eastern corridors in burnt gold and long, stretching shadows. Within one of the older chambers—a war room long decommissioned and sealed to the general court—two figures moved with purpose.
Renna and Cale, stood before a wide table spread with scattered parchments, coded ledgers, and a map of the imperial court — its corridors, secret passages, and servant routes all marked in fine ink.
The room was quiet, but not silent. Behind them, Lareth leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression grave as he finished reading out Rythe's final instruction to them.
"You both were chosen not because you are invisible," he said, "but because everyone believes you are."
Renna's gaze flicked toward Cale, and for a moment, a silent understanding passed between them.
They had been ignored, overlooked, dismissed—until Rythe gave them purpose. Until he gave them names that mattered in places that didn't think they should.
"Our mission is simple," Cale murmured, scanning the map. "We find the traitors. We identify the mouths that feed the shadows."
Renna tied her dark hair back, nodding. "And we do it without being seen. Without making a single noise that draws attention."
Lareth stepped forward and laid down a smaller scroll—folded and sealed.
"This is the list of court figures Rythe suspected. Most are just rumors, whispers. You'll start with the outer circle—those connected to the Marvane family, the northern houses, and the grain syndicates. Follow the money. Watch the mouths that speak too often behind closed doors."
Cale picked up the scroll and tucked it inside his sleeve.
"Any instructions for what happens when we do find something?"
Lareth's eyes were cold as steel.
"You bring it to me. Quietly. We don't move until we're certain."
He turned to leave, but paused at the door.
"And Renna… Cale…"
"This kingdom is standing on pins. If you fall, Ardan loses more than just a fight in the dark."
The door closed behind him.
Silence fell again.
Then, with soft determination, Renna took one final glance at the candlelit map and rolled it up.
"We begin in the archives," she whispered. "If someone's been moving coin, they'll have left a trail."
Cale smirked faintly, the glint of the hunter in his eyes.
"And if someone's been whispering in the dark… we'll be the ones whispering back."
Together, the two omegas faded into the halls of the palace, no longer unseen—but unseen on purpose.