The wind carried the scent of night roses as it drifted across the balcony of the Royal Office. King Sirius stood alone at first, sleeves rolled, a glass of amber whiskey cradled in one hand. The gardens below shimmered in silver moonlight, silent as stone.
Behind him, the office doors opened with a polite knock.
"Your Majesty," came Thomas's calm voice as he entered, shoulders straight, a sheaf of scrolls tucked beneath one arm.
Sirius didn't turn. "You brought the chancellor?"
Thomas gave a simple nod and stepped aside.
Argus Sterling entered with practiced ease. His deep-set eyes swept the chamber—not with suspicion, but with the caution of a man who had seen kingdoms tilt on whispers. His robes, tailored to flatter a frame grown comfortably round over the years, shifted with a dignified swish as he crossed the chamber. He bowed—not too low, but just enough to show respect without submission.
"Summoned at night, and without scandal in the air?" he said, a trace of dry humor curling his voice. "Either a rare mercy... or trouble brewing."
King Sirius smiled, gesturing toward the seat beside him. "Neither. Just a father thinking about his son."
"Sit, both of you." He motioned to the plush chairs before his grand desk. Pouring a measure of dark whiskey, he offered it to Argus.
"A dram, Argus?"
"A pleasure, Your Majesty," the chancellor replied with a soft smile, accepting the glass.
When Sirius turned the bottle toward Thomas, the secretary gave a polite shake of his head and moved to the side table, ever prepared but never obtrusive.
Sirius leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid thoughtfully. "My youngest, Johan," he said, almost to himself. "He still has that boyish earnestness, doesn't he? Always striving, always watching. It's... endearing, in its way."
His gaze shifted to Thomas. "But the time for simple amusement is past. What's your counsel on his entry into the Royal Court?"
Thomas adjusted a cuff, pausing to choose his words. "Your Majesty, Prince Johan possesses a remarkable ambition—even for a bastard. He learns quickly. However, the Court is a different battleground. Your usual protections, while effective within the palace, will not extend far there. He will face… unfiltered challenges."
Sirius chuckled low in his throat. "Oh, I know. The barking of the Houses. And dear Estelle's laments about propriety—those alone may cost me a night's sleep."
Argus took a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes twinkling just above the rim of his glass. "Yet such inconveniences have never quite swayed you from a course once chosen, have they, Your Majesty?" He set the glass down gently. "And perhaps Johan's presence might serve a dual purpose. He has a certain... raw determination. A force that may prove useful in keeping the Crown Prince from growing too complacent."
Then, with a sly grin: "Besides, I doubt the Empress will risk another such 'accident.' After all, the last time she truly meddled, we were blessed with Prince Johan. I daresay she won't take that gamble again."
A wave of hearty laughter filled the office, Sirius's booming mirth echoing off marble and velvet.
"Hah! Argus, you always find the heart of the matter." He slapped his palm on the desk, the decision clear. "Then it's settled. Thomas, prepare the formal decree—Prince Johan shall take his seat in the Royal Court."
He turned to the chancellor. "Argus, as Chancellor, see to it that a gift worthy of the moment is arranged. Thomas will assist you."
Both men stood and bowed in unison. Sirius raised his glass once more, letting the silence return, broken only by the soft clink of crystal as he sipped his amber delight—eyes fixed on the moonlit roses swaying far below.
The palace was quieter at night.
The usual hum of clinking armor and distant bells faded beneath the weight of moonlight. Only a few lanterns burned along the marble corridors, their flames dancing in silence. Johan's boots echoed faintly as he turned the final corner toward Kael's quarters.
He didn't have to knock.
"Come in," came the familiar voice, gruff and amused, before Johan even reached the door.
Inside, Kael stood by the window, fastening his sword belt with one hand, a crumpled report in the other. The scent of old leather and fresh ink clung to the room.
"Trouble?" Johan asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Well, look what the night wind blew in," Kael rumbled, his voice low but laced with amusement. "Just the boy I was hoping to see."
Johan raised an eyebrow. "Problems at this hour, Kael? Did some of your trainees try to run off with the kitchen staff again?"
Kael chuckled, a dry, raspy sound that hinted at a deeper enjoyment. "Worse. Much worse—at least for you. We've got an urgent dispatch from the Baron Valerius's lands. Bandits. Not just common thieves, mind you. These are led by two former army Zols, and they've got ten Navres under their command. They're hitting the wine farmers hard, burning fields and taking what they want."
Johan's brow furrowed. Baron Valerius. The name pricked at his memory. "Valerius? Isn't his territory under the Duke of Rhine? Why are we responding directly?"
Kael's grin sharpened, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Aye, he is. And the Duke of Rhine is mobilizing his forces. They'll be there in three days, maybe four if the rains com." Kael paused, letting the implication hang in the air, clearly relishing Johan's slow realization. "Your squad, Prince, is already assembled. Waiting by the castle gates. If I were you, I'd hurry. Don't want to keep your first command waiting, do you?"
Johan felt a flicker of surprise, quickly replaced by a smirk. A direct mission, a command. This was new, and exciting. "Aye, aye, Captain," he said, giving a mock salute before turning on his heel.
As he strode towards the castle gates, a fresh surge of anticipation mingled with the chill of the night air. The Royal Court. The King's decree. And now, this. It seemed his father's words about "time for simple amusement" being past were more literal than Johan had imagined. His first command. His first real test. And judging by Kael's grin, it wouldn't be simple at all.