The heavy double doors to the Strategy Room remained shut, sealing the sharks inside.
The air in the circular chamber hung thick with cigar smoke and the hum of the massive holographic table in the center. Around it, the High Command of House Aethel waited, their patience fraying with every passing second.
General Torian, General of the Land Legion, paced behind his seat. A scarred veteran among the army of House Aethel, he wore his field plate even in council meetings, his hand resting perpetually on the pommel of his broadsword.
"This is a waste of daylight," Torian growled, turning on his heel. "The High Lord summons us at noon with the highest priority, yet we stand here staring at a blank map. Vane, do you know what this is about?"
Minister Vane, Head of Trade, shook his head. He tapped absentmindedly on a floating ledger through his silk robes.
"I know that I had to reschedule a funding meeting for the Royal Ironclads. If this is another drill..."
"It isn't a drill," Admiral Vesper, General of the Navy Fleet, said. She leaned against the far wall, cold and still as a reptile. "The authorities logged a Sovereign Grade summoner using the Concord's rail car. The heir has returned."
"The boy?" Torian scoffed. "He's been playing hunter in the mud for two years. Why call us for a homecoming party?"
He looked across the table at Baroness Lyra.
"And where is Lady Lucine?" Torian demanded. "If the heir is back, Lady Lucine should have a dossier on his activities. Intelligence has been silent. Too silent. Does Intelligence know something we don't?"
"Intelligence knows everything, General," Lyra said, smoothing her skirts. "Which is why they speak only when necessary. Remember, they answer to her, not us."
The heavy doors groaned. The magnetic locks disengaged with a clack.
The room went silent. Torian stopped pacing. Vane closed his ledger.
High Lord Magnus entered first, his presence filling the room like an increase in atmospheric heat. Lady Lucine followed, her face a mask of icy composure.
And then, Regius.
He wore the formal robes of the heir—midnight blue silk with silver embroidery that caught the light of the map. The high collar framed his face, sharp and emotionless. There was no sash, no gaudy jewelry. Just the dark fabric and the black wyvern gloves on his hands.
The Heads assessed him. They remembered a soft boy who preferred books to blades. They looked for that boy now, searching for cracks in his composure after a brush with death.
They found nothing.
Regius walked to the head of the table, flanked by his parents, moving with a stillness that unsettled them.
"My Lords," Regius said. His voice was calm, resonant, and devoid of fear. "I don't know if you heard the rumors. Let me explain."
He began his report.
He did not apologize for his two-year absence. He narrated the constant stream of assassins during his excursion. He detailed the plentiful number of Rank 1 and Rank 2 assassins sent to bleed him dry, speaking with the clinical detachment of an auditor listing expenses.
"You knew?" Lady Lucine cut in. She played her role perfectly, the strict strategist testing the heir in front of the heads. "You were hunted for two years. Why did you not report these incursions to the Intelligence Division?"
"They sent amateurs, Rank 1s and 2s. I saw them as whetstones, as training for my growth."
General Torian grinned, a flash of white teeth in a scarred face. He respected aggression, provided it was backed by skill.
"But," Regius said. "When they hired a Rank 3 Mage, they went too far."
"How did you fend off your assailants?" Lyra asked. "I saw the reports from the investigators. There are three Rank 3 mercenaries present and dozens of Rank 1s and 2s."
"I used everything at my disposal. Relics, weapons, artifacts—I've prepared for the worst-case scenario."
The Heads nodded.
"And I haven't been idle. I found these during my training on the border."
He slid the silver data chip to the center of the table.
It was scanned, and the hologram flickered. It resolved into a complex web of logistics lines, bank transfers, and communication logs. Red lines connected shell companies in the lower districts to a single source.
House Marius.
The room erupted.
"This is an act of war!" Torian slammed on the table. "Not only did they invade our borders. They targeted the young lord?!"
"Calm down, Torian," Vane said. "The Annual Concordat Summit is in three months! If we mobilize our forces now, we risk delaying the construction of the Ironclads, breaching our contract with the Royals right before the audit. We will be penalized!"
"They tried to kill the heir! Sanctions be damned!"
"And lose the Royal Naval Contract?" Vane wiped his face with a handkerchief. "If we divert resources to a war, we miss the delivery date for the Royal Ships. The Crown needs those in time. If we fail them, House Aethel's future is done for."
"Silence."
Magnus didn't shout. He let the weight of his elemental pressure settle over the room. The floorboards groaned. The arguments died in their throats.
"It doesn't make sense." Magnus stared at the map. "House Marius is bankrupt. Their mines are dry. Their credit with the Aurum Union is capped. They are selling their belongings to pay the interest on their loans."
"They're desperate, sure… doesn't mean that they will be this bold."
"They have a backer," Lucine said, connecting the dots. She highlighted the supply routes entering the Marius Domain.
"Look at the imports. They are bringing in materials they don't use for mining. Unstable alchemical reagents. High-grade energy conduits. Very expensive materials. Materials they cannot afford. Someone is feeding them resources."
"It's a trap," Vesper said. "The assassination attempt... the timing with the summit... the threat to the naval contract. They are trying to corner us."
"They want us to attack," Lucine explained to the room. "They know they can't win a fair fight. They want us to march our armies across the border. The moment an Aethel boot touches Marius soil, they will petition the Crown."
"The Right of Competence," Magnus realized.
"Exactly," Lucine nodded. "If we attack, we are the aggressors in this conflict and will be heavily scrutinized. If we stay passive and the naval contract fails due to their sabotage, we are incompetent. In either scenario, they petition the Royals to strip our title and gift our domain to them to restore stability."
The room went cold. The "Right of Competence" was the nuclear option of Noble politics. It was the very law the Aethels had used to take a large portion of their land from Marius a century ago. Now, they intended to use it to steal it back.
"Then we are deadlocked," Torian growled, pacing again. "We can't attack, and we can't defend forever."
"We don't need to defend forever," Lucine said. "We just need to survive until the Summit."
She turned toward the map.
"We need to cut the puppet strings. Find their backer. Find the source of their new money and whatever illegal tech they are stockpiling. If we can prove treason... the Royals will dissolve House Marius for us."
"And how do we do that?" Vesper asked. "The Marius borders are closed. Their domain is a fortress."
"We need a scalpel," Regius said.
He looked at his father.
"Let me go. I know their tactics. I have the data. Let me take a team into the Marius Domain. I will find the proof."
The room went silent.
Vane shook his head immediately. "Absolutely not. You are the target, Young Master. Sending the heir back into the crosshairs is madness."
"I agree," Lyra said. "You survived by luck. Do not push it."
Regius looked to his father. "Father. I can do this."
Magnus looked at his son. He saw the capability. The strength. But he also saw the blood on his armor from the day before. He saw the only son he had left.
"No," Magnus said.
"Father—"
"The Heads are right," Magnus's voice was final. "They want you dead to break me. If you die, the House falls. I will not hand them the victory."
He placed both hands on the table.
"You will stay within the walls of Astraea. You will attend the Noble's Gala in a week. You will prepare for the summit. That is an order, Heir."
Regius stood still. He felt the familiar weight of the chains.
"As you command, High Lord…"
———
The conversation continued for hours to discuss the strategy in dealing with House Marius. The generals dispersed to fortify the borders and double the guards at the naval yards.
Regius remained outside the heavy doors with his parents after the meeting was adjourned.
"Your father is protecting you," Lucine said.
"I know." Regius took a breath, softening his expression.
"If I can't leave. Then, I wish to host my guests and take them around the city. We might as well take a break."
"Are they your squad?"
"Yes, Mom."
"Very well." Lucine stepped closer, brushing his hair. "You all need a well-deserved break."
She kissed his forehead before sending him back to his room. He bowed to his parents. He turned and walked down the corridor, his boots echoing on the marble.
"I doubt it's just simple sightseeing," Magnus sighed.
Magnus looked to his wife.
Lucine gazed at her son. She saw the calculation in his dark violet eyes. She saw the tension in his gloved hand. She knew he wasn't going sightseeing.
"I know," Lucine said, shrugging her shoulders. "Let him go, honey. This will be an experience for him. He can't hide in his room forever."
"Very well. But have the Shadows protect him."
"Of course. Both of you, stay in his shadow tomorrow."
Two shadows in the corridor vibrated. Then, they moved and streaked into Regius's room, sneaking inside his shadow.