Night settled heavier than dusk.
The palace grew quieter in layers. Servants withdrew first, their steps fading into distant corridors. Then the administrative clerks, their voices replaced by the low hiss of oil lamps. Finally, even the guards shifted into slower patterns, patrol routes lengthened by darkness rather than shortened by urgency.
I remained in my study.
The bandage around my palm had been redressed. Clean linen. Tightly wrapped. The physician had insisted on rest.
I had declined.
A single oil lamp burned near the edge of my desk. Its light trembled faintly against stacked documents—seal review summaries, structural inspection notes, rotation logs requested but not yet delivered.
The palace had nearly dropped me into its own garden.
The official report used the word fatigue.
I used a different word.
A knock interrupted the silence.
Not the hesitant rhythm of a servant.
Not the rigid cadence of a guard requesting entry.
Three measured taps.
Even.
Unhurried.
I did not rise immediately.
"Enter."
The door opened without announcement.
Lucien Draco Galmasca stepped inside.
No herald.
No escort.
No formal declaration of rank.
He closed the door himself.
That, more than the visit, was the signal.
He wore dark attire suited for evening rather than ceremony. No adornments beyond a single signet ring. His hair was tied back loosely, as though this were not an official encounter.
His eyes moved once across the room.
Lamp.
Documents.
Bandaged hand.
They rested there half a second longer than on the rest.
"Gravity seems selective this week," he said.
Not a greeting.
An observation.
"It has preferences," I replied.
He approached without invitation and took the chair opposite my desk as though it had been reserved.
He did not ask about my condition.
He did not offer concern.
"You were fortunate," he said.
"Fortune implies randomness."
"And you believe this was deliberate?"
"I believe stone does not fracture with discretion."
A faint shift at the corner of his mouth.
Not amusement.
Acknowledgment.
Silence settled between us—not awkward, not hostile.
Measured.
Lucien leaned back slightly.
"The guard rotation was altered two hours before your walk," he said.
Not speculation.
Fact.
I did not move.
"Rotations change frequently," I replied.
"Yes," he agreed. "But not from inner detail to auxiliary reserve without notation."
His gaze sharpened.
"The replacement was not drawn from your assigned unit."
"And from where?"
"A provisional list attached to administrative redistribution following yesterday's hearing."
Administrative redistribution.
Neutral language.
"Signed?" I asked.
"Kingly seal authorization for rotation flexibility."
The irony lingered.
"And countersigned?"
"Office of Civic Order."
A neutral bureau.
On paper.
Lucien folded his hands loosely.
"The order was processed quickly," he continued. "Faster than standard rotation adjustments."
"How quickly?"
"Within twenty-three minutes of submission."
That was not standard.
That was anticipation.
"You investigated efficiently," I said.
"I dislike structural anomalies," Lucien replied.
He glanced at my bandaged hand again.
"Execution is political," he said calmly. "This was not."
A statement, not comfort.
"You believe Dologany escalated?" I asked.
Lucien tilted his head slightly.
"Dologany prefers leverage to spectacle," he said. "They cultivate narrative. They do not typically employ collapsing masonry."
Not typically.
"Typically?"
"There are factions within factions," he said.
His tone remained level.
"You accelerated the seal review," he continued. "Did you expect retaliation this quickly?"
"I expected discomfort," I replied. "Not gravity."
"And yet you moved publicly."
"Yes."
"You expanded scrutiny."
"Yes."
"You forced endorsement."
"Yes."
He studied me.
Not as brother.
As variable.
"In the previous weeks," he said slowly, "you were reactive."
"Was I?"
"Yes."
"And now?"
"You are moving ahead of sequence."
The lamp flame flickered between us.
Lucien's voice remained quiet.
"Be careful whom you accelerate against," he said. "Some structures collapse outward."
A warning.
Or an analysis.
"Are you suggesting I provoked this?" I asked.
"I am suggesting that when multiple parties observe the same instability, not all will choose patience."
Multiple parties.
"Define multiple," I said.
Lucien's eyes did not waver.
"The Church monitors seal integrity now," he said. "Dologany monitors narrative positioning. The Emperor monitors both."
"And you?"
"I monitor deviation."
A faint, almost imperceptible tightening at his jaw.
"The guard who hesitated," he continued, "was transferred from a supply registry office three weeks ago."
"Supply?"
"Yes."
"Not combat?"
"No."
"Why was he armed?"
"Temporary reassignment under security flexibility clause."
The same clause that had enabled rapid rotation.
Lucien did not look satisfied.
"You are not the only one being observed," he said.
"That is hardly new."
"No," he agreed. "But the observers may not share objectives."
He rose from his chair and moved toward the desk, examining the stack of rotation logs I had requested.
"You asked for these before the incident," he said.
"Yes."
"And yet you walked with reduced detail."
"I did not expect the structure to cooperate with malice."
"You should."
The statement was cold.
Not unkind.
Simply factual.
Lucien turned slightly, facing the window where darkness pressed against glass.
"If someone moved from accusation to sabotage in four days," he said quietly, "it is not because they are reckless."
"Then why?"
"Because something else is moving faster."
The implication settled heavier than the silence.
"Do you suspect the Church?" I asked.
"I suspect impatience," Lucien replied.
"And yours?"
He looked back at me.
"I do not intend to see the third prince removed before I determine whether he is useful."
There it was.
Not protection.
Not alliance.
Assessment.
"Useful," I repeated.
"Yes."
"For what?"
"For destabilizing equilibrium," he said. "Or restoring it."
He moved toward the door.
Pausing only once.
"The rotation order," he added, "was archived unusually cleanly."
"Cleanly?"
"No hesitation in processing. No delay in countersignature."
"And that implies?"
"That whoever authorized it expected no review."
He opened the door.
Then stopped.
"If this were solely Dologany," he said without turning, "they would have waited for a more advantageous stage."
A pause.
"You are not the only one accelerating."
The door closed behind him.
The study returned to silence.
I looked at the bandage around my hand.
The terrace had collapsed outward.
The guard had hesitated.
The order had processed too smoothly.
And Lucien had come without escort.
I was not alone on the board.
But neither was I the only piece in motion.