The rumor began in the market.
Not as a proclamation.
As a question.
"They say the Third Prince requested military access."
"To the western fortifications."
"Without notifying the council."
A merchant paused mid-transaction.
"Why would he need those?"
By midmorning, the question had entered the palace corridors.
Servants lowered their voices.
Guards spoke without turning their heads.
"The Church is reviewing his records."
"They say a document exists."
"Signed."
By noon, it was no longer rumor.
It was narrative.
"Your Highness… the matter has become public."
My aide's face was pale.
"In what form?" I asked.
"A hearing has been convened. A clarification session."
"By whom?"
"The council chamber. Lord Dologany requested it. The Church has agreed to observe."
Observe.
In the previous timeline, whispers had matured slowly before becoming accusation.
This was day four.
They had skipped maturation.
Acceleration.
"Has His Majesty summoned me?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
Of course he had.
It was not the throne hall.
Too public.
Too symbolic.
Instead, the smaller imperial council chamber.
Circular.
Stone walls etched with subdued reliefs of past decrees.
Contained.
Controlled.
Lord Dologany stood near the central table.
Deep blue attire threaded with silver.
Impeccable.
His expression carried the weight of reluctant concern.
Beside him, Inquisitor Vale.
Still.
Observing.
Several senior nobles occupied the outer seats.
Lucien stood near one of the columns, arms folded lightly behind his back.
Adrian was present as well, posture straight, gaze unreadable.
The Emperor sat at the head.
Silent.
"Zack Ardy Galmasca," Lord Dologany began as I entered. "Thank you for responding promptly."
I inclined my head.
"I understand there are concerns."
"Concerns only arise where clarity is lacking," Dologany replied gently. "And clarity protects us all."
He gestured.
Vale stepped forward and placed the document upon the central table.
The travel request.
Displayed openly.
"Your Majesty," Dologany said, turning slightly toward the Emperor, "it has come to our attention that a request for military inspection was filed under the Third Prince's seal."
He did not look at me.
Not yet.
"I would never presume ill intent," he continued. "However, when requests for strategic access arise without coordination… it becomes my duty to inquire."
He let the silence stretch.
"Unilateral military access," he added softly, "is how succession disputes begin to resemble civil wars."
Duty.
Always duty.
Vale unfolded the page.
The seal was precise.
The ink dark.
A minor official stepped forward.
"I received this request three days prior," the man said, bowing deeply. "It bore the Prince's authority."
A witness.
Prepared.
In the previous timeline, this document had surfaced during formal investigation—after weeks of framing.
Now it was weaponized immediately.
"Did you verify the request through my office?" I asked the official.
He hesitated. "The seal was sufficient."
"Was it?"
Murmurs rippled faintly through the chamber.
Dologany raised a hand.
"We are not here to trade accusations," he said calmly. "Only to ensure that unilateral military movements are not being considered."
Unilateral.
Framing complete.
"Until clarity is achieved," Vale added evenly, "temporary restriction of movement may be advisable."
There it was.
Not arrest.
Restriction.
House arrest without the name.
A subtle tightening of the leash.
Bootsteps shifted behind me.
Not loud.
Closer.
My aide's breath caught—barely audible, but sharp enough to register. For one suspended second, I calculated the distance to the door and the likelihood of being escorted out before another word was spoken.
Lucien's gaze shifted slightly.
Adrian remained still.
The Emperor did not move.
If they restricted me now, my mobility would vanish before I could counter.
Containment before accusation.
Different from before.
More urgent.
I stepped closer to the table.
"May I examine the document?"
Vale inclined his head.
I lifted it carefully.
The seal was indeed accurate.
But the wax.
Too smooth along the outer rim.
Imperial seals leave minute ridges when pressed against cooled wax.
This one did not.
"The imprint lacks compression variance," I said calmly.
A few brows furrowed.
"I have sealed hundreds of documents personally. The imperial die leaves microscopic asymmetry along the northern edge."
I turned the page slightly toward the light.
"This one does not."
Silence.
Not proof of innocence.
But proof of imperfection.
Dologany's expression did not change.
"Inconsistencies can occur," he said mildly.
"Indeed," I replied. "Which is precisely why restriction before verification would be premature."
Vale stepped closer, examining the wax without touching it.
The chamber held its breath.
Then—
"It warrants further examination," Vale said.
A delay.
Not dismissal.
But enough.
Dologany's gaze shifted subtly.
"Your Highness," he said gently, "it is interesting that you visited House Rhapala mere hours before this request surfaced."
There it was.
Seraphina.
Pulled into frame.
"A courtesy visit," I replied.
"Of course," he said. "House Rhapala's influence in trade and administration is significant. Coordination between houses is essential."
Coordination.
Another word.
"Are you implying their involvement?" I asked evenly.
"I imply nothing," Dologany said softly. "Only that timing deserves attention."
The suggestion lingered.
If suspicion touched Rhapala, neutrality would fracture.
Calculated pressure.
The Emperor finally spoke.
No one interrupted him.
His voice was quiet.
"We will not curtail a prince's movement without complete clarity."
The room changed.
Dologany's next breath arrived a fraction too late.
Vale's gloved finger paused over the folio before making a small notation.
Lucien's gaze shifted—not toward me, but toward our father.
The room stilled.
"If we begin restricting sons on implication," he continued, "we undermine the throne itself."
Not defense.
Principle.
Dologany bowed.
"Your Majesty's wisdom preserves us all."
Vale closed the folio.
"Then we shall proceed with formal review," he said. "Expedited."
Expedited.
The hearing concluded without verdict.
But not without consequence.
By evening, the palace had shifted.
A clerk who once answered immediately now required written requests.
A minor noble declined a previously arranged meeting.
Two guards trailed my movements under the guise of protocol.
An hour later, I requested access to the western administrative archives.
Denied.
"Pending review," the clerk said without meeting my eyes.
By evening, one of my long-serving personal guards had been reassigned.
Temporarily, I was told.
The circle was tightening.
Freedom.
Narrowed.
I returned to my chamber as the bells marked dusk.
In the previous timeline, Dologany had waited.
He had allowed the narrative to mature before striking.
Now he pressed early.
Aggressively.
Not confidence.
Urgency.
They were not accelerating because they were certain.
They were accelerating because they feared delay.
This was no longer containment.
It was prevention.