Chapter 11: The Waiting Game
The court assembly took their seats with practiced precision, each minister and duke settling into positions that reflected decades of hierarchy and political calculation. The giant clock mounted on the far wall began to chime—noon exactly. Twelve resonant strikes that echoed through the cavernous chamber.
Court had not yet begun.
Whispers rippled through the gathered officials like wind through grass. Ministers exchanged meaningful glances. Dukes shifted uncomfortably. The delay was noticeable enough to be deliberate, and deliberate enough to be insulting.
"Father—" Prince Darian stood, his voice carrying easily across the hall. "It seems you value him more than necessity demands. I could easily handle this minor issue."
A few ministers chuckled nervously before falling silent under the Emperor's gaze.
Empress Althaea smiled slightly from her seat beside the throne, red hair gleaming in the chandelier light. 'I suppose the gods gave all the brains to Serenya's other son,' she thought with barely concealed satisfaction.
"The court summit begins now," Emperor Emrik declared, his golden eyes sweeping the assembly with evident reluctance.
Duke Vasant Neni rose immediately—twenty-nine years old, wearing the elaborate royal attire of Zyrick State's ruler, but looking far older from stress. "Your Majesty, we believe we can handle the situation—" His voice wavered slightly. "Though the main rebellions number in the thousands."
Emrik said nothing. Just watched. Waited.
War Minister Graham stepped forward respectfully. "Tell us the reasons for this uprising, Duke Vasant."
"Ah, yes." Vasant laid out the situation with the careful tone of someone explaining a disaster he hadn't caused but would be blamed for anyway. "Locust swarms destroyed their harvests. And we're already imposing higher taxes than other states due to our border position and merchant production."
"Just that?" Emperor Emrik's voice cut through the explanation like a blade. He looked at the assembled court like they were children who'd missed something obvious.
Duke Vasant's fear became palpable. "They... they also stole the treasury we were transporting to the capital. Twenty thousand gold coins and five diamonds. And they murdered our state finance minister." He bowed low, forehead nearly touching the floor. "I have failed to maintain order, Your Majesty."
"Then what should we do?" The Emperor's question hung in the air—rhetorical, testing, already knowing answers but wanting to see who would reveal themselves.
Duke Cornelious Whoosh stood, his winter attire and thick furs marking him as ruler of Rifteria State—one of the largest territories by landmass, perpetually cold, half the year buried in snow. He was older than Vasant, more composed, more certain.
"The main problem isn't the people, Your Majesty." His voice carried the weight of verified intelligence. "I received reports from my spy network. The neighboring Kingdom of Kazzara has been funding the rebellion. And several corrupt nobles within State Zyrick have joined hands with them."
The revelation landed like a stone in still water, ripples of shock spreading through the court.
Emperor Emrik's gaze fixed on Duke Vasant, who crouched lower, trembling. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. Forgive me for failing to prevent this. Please—"
"Father, this isn't a matter of the people!" Darian's voice boomed across the hall, loud and furious. He stood tall, golden eyes blazing with certainty. "I suggest we use maximum force against Kingdom Kazzara and the traitorous nobles of State Zyrick—" He swept his gaze across the assembly, watching ministers flinch. "We are the second strongest empire in the known world. Not some petty kingdom."
Murmurs of agreement began to build. Ministers nodded. Dukes straightened in their seats. The court began to solidify around the Crown Prince's position like metal cooling into a weapon.
"But such action would kill loyal nobles and innocent commoners as well—" An elderly voice cut through the growing war fervor. High Priest Sol Na Marri of Zyrick State, late sixties, his face lined with decades of service and sorrow. "We have faced such violence many times, Your Majesty. It is why we sought the protection of the Great Aurelith Empire nineteen years ago."
"I support this statement, Your Majesty." Minister Graham bowed deeply. "Indiscriminate force would—"
"Graham."
Judas struggled to stand, his bent back making the movement labored and painful. But his voice carried perfect clarity.
"Sometimes good people need to be sacrificed for the greater good. Isn't that right, Your Majesty?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Ministers went still. The logic was twisted—monstrous, even—but delivered with such calm reasonableness that countering it felt almost rude.
No one spoke.
Judas's statement settled over the court like fresh snow over a grave. Final. Suffocating.
'Where is that damn boy?' Emperor Emrik thought, his dissatisfaction obvious to anyone who knew how to read the subtle tension in his jaw. This wasn't the solution he wanted. This was butchery dressed as pragmatism.
"Your Majesty." Empress Althaea's voice cut through the silence—soft, graceful, carrying blood beneath silk. Her green eyes gleamed with something that might have been ambition or might have been cruelty. "The Connoisseur Knight is stationed near State Maru, which borders Zyrick. Shouldn't we order him to eliminate all opposition?"
Emperor Emrik snapped from his thoughts. "Then—" He straightened in his throne, preparing to issue the command that would send soldiers and an elite Death Knight to slaughter rebels, corrupt nobles, and whoever else got in the way. "After court procedures conclude, I hereby order that the Army of State Zyrick and the Connoisseur Knight will be assigned to—"
He stopped.
The massive doors at the far end of the hall swung open.
Platoon Knight Ethelia De Colisson entered first, dark armor gleaming, her face tense with barely concealed alarm at what she'd heard through the doors. Behind her came Cian, visibly nervous, shoulders tight with the knowledge that entering court this late was a breach of protocol that could have consequences.
Every head turned.
The Emperor's unfinished command hung in the air like a blade suspended over a neck.
And somewhere just beyond those doors, still unseen, the Second Prince was taking his time.
Making them wait.
Making them wonder.
Making absolutely certain that when he finally entered, every single person in that chamber would be watching.