The Imperial Dining Hall of the Drakenhart Palace was not built for comfort.
It was built for dominance.
A ceiling painted with the first dragon pact stretched high above like a myth frozen in gold. Massive pillars carved from obsidian lined the walls. A single table ran through the center — long enough to seat a minor army.
At the head of the table sat one man.
Emperor Caelus Drakenhart.
Tall. Broad. Silver-haired. Eyes like molten steel.
His mere presence compressed the air.
Servants moved silently. Nobles kept their gazes lowered.
The doors opened.
Arthur entered.
No announcement was needed.
Every conversation died instantly.
Not because the Emperor had arrived.
Because the Crown Prince had.
Arthur walked calmly across the hall, boots echoing softly against polished marble. His posture was relaxed, but the mana around him hummed faintly — restrained power, contained like a storm behind glass.
He reached his seat — to the Emperor's immediate right.
The only chair equal in height.
He sat.
Silence lingered.
The Emperor finally spoke.
"You walked the southern district."
It wasn't a question.
Arthur calmly reached for his glass.
"Yes."
Murmurs flickered among the attending nobles.
The Emperor's gaze sharpened slightly.
"You were injured days ago. Rest would have been acceptable."
Arthur met his father's eyes directly.
"I have rested enough."
The tension in the hall thickened.
No one else in the empire spoke to the Emperor so evenly.
But this was not disrespect.
This was familiarity.
Caelus studied his son carefully.
"You plan to audit the noble taxation systems."
A few spoons clattered faintly.
So news had already spread.
Arthur did not look surprised.
"Yes."
The Emperor leaned back slightly.
"Do you suspect disloyalty?"
Arthur's fingers lightly tapped the table once.
"I suspect inefficiency."
A subtle answer.
But not a harmless one.
Inefficiency implied reform.
Reform implied exposure.
Exposure implied blood.
Several minor nobles shifted uncomfortably.
Caelus's eyes gleamed faintly.
"You have always prioritized strength."
Arthur tilted his head slightly.
"And I still do."
The Emperor's lips curved just a fraction.
"Explain."
Arthur placed his glass down.
"Strength without structure is unstable. If resentment grows beneath the surface, it will eventually erupt."
He did not raise his voice.
He did not project mana.
Yet every word carried weight.
"The Veil of Ashes did not appear from nowhere."
That caught attention.
Several nobles stiffened.
The Emperor's gaze darkened slightly.
"You believe internal dissatisfaction played a role?"
"I believe weakness invites exploitation."
A pause.
Arthur's golden eyes swept the table.
"An empire this vast cannot be ruled solely through fear."
That line lingered.
Even Seraphina, seated across from him, watched closely.
Caelus spoke again.
"And what do you propose?"
Arthur's voice remained calm.
"Transparent audits. Public exposure of corrupt nobles. Systematic tax reform."
Murmurs intensified.
Public exposure?
That was dangerous.
Noble authority rested on reputation.
Destroy reputation publicly — you destroy lineage.
A Duke on the far left finally dared speak.
"With respect, Your Highness," he said carefully, "public humiliation of nobility could destabilize confidence in governance."
Arthur looked at him.
Just looked.
The Duke's voice faltered instantly.
Arthur did not flare his mana.
He didn't need to.
"I will not humiliate the innocent," Arthur replied.
His tone cooled.
"But I will dismantle the guilty."
Silence returned.
The Emperor tapped the table once.
The sound echoed sharply.
"All reforms will pass through me."
Arthur nodded.
"Of course."
Another pause.
Then—
Caelus leaned forward slightly.
"Your mana core."
Arthur did not react outwardly.
"It is stable."
"You walked through a detonation array," the Emperor said flatly. "You are not invincible."
Arthur held his father's gaze.
"No."
And that single word carried more meaning than expected.
For the first time in this dinner—
The Emperor's expression softened slightly.
"You were unconscious for six hours."
The room stiffened.
Few knew that.
Arthur's siblings had kept it contained.
"I am aware."
Caelus studied him carefully.
"You are… different."
There it was again.
Arthur did not deny it.
"Growth is not weakness."
The Emperor held his gaze for several seconds.
Then, unexpectedly—
He smiled.
It was not warm.
But it was genuine.
"Very well."
Murmurs stopped instantly.
"Begin your audit."
Shock rippled through the hall.
Just like that?
Caelus continued.
"But understand this."
His mana flared briefly — not aggressively, but undeniably.
"If you move against noble houses, you will create enemies."
Arthur's golden eyes gleamed.
"I already have."
The Emperor let out a low chuckle.
"Good."
Dinner resumed.
But the atmosphere had shifted permanently.
—
Later that night.
Arthur stood alone on the palace balcony.
The capital shimmered below.
Footsteps approached quietly.
Seraphina joined him.
"You secured Father's approval faster than expected."
Arthur nodded.
"He wanted to see my conviction."
"And?"
"He saw it."
She watched the city lights carefully.
"You know what this means."
"Yes."
She turned toward him.
"You are stepping into governance fully now."
Arthur's gaze hardened slightly.
"Yes."
"And once you expose one noble…"
"Others will panic," he finished.
"Some may align with external enemies."
"Good," Arthur replied calmly.
Seraphina blinked slightly.
"Good?"
"They will reveal themselves."
The wind shifted.
Arthur's cloak fluttered lightly.
"I was injured because someone believed destabilization was possible."
His eyes narrowed.
"I will remove that belief."
Seraphina watched him carefully.
"You truly have changed."
Arthur's lips curved faintly.
"I have perspective."
—
Elsewhere.
In a candlelit chamber far from the palace—
A masked figure crushed a glass orb in his hand.
"The Emperor approved the audit."
Another figure spoke from the shadows.
"He moves faster than predicted."
Silence thickened.
"The fracture in his mana core was insufficient."
A third voice whispered.
"Then we escalate."
—
Back on the balcony.
Arthur extended his senses inward once more.
The crack in his mana core still existed.
Faint.
Unstable if pushed recklessly.
He could heal it over time.
But part of him wondered—
Was the injury purely external?
Or had something inside this body… shifted?
He closed his eyes.
A faint emptiness echoed somewhere deep within.
Like a missing fragment.
Arthur opened his eyes slowly.
His gaze turned toward the horizon.
"If you are watching," he murmured quietly, almost to himself—
"Make your next move."
The empire would change.
Not gradually.
Not gently.
But decisively.
And Arthur Valerius Drakenhart would be the one holding the blade