After the Council
Even after the official Imperial Council was dismissed, the grand hall had yet to fall completely silent. Clusters of nobles lingered, speaking in hushed tones each with their own calculations, each with their own version of loyalty.
Emperor Gaius Octavianus Magnus remained seated upon his black stone throne, gazing blankly ahead. Beside him stood Archon Soren Voltaire Duval, composed and still. Behind them, Lucard Vehlheim, recently returned from the southeast, awaited in silence.
"We've agreed to deploy northern forces under Duke Vaelric," Gaius said quietly. "But I'm still unconvinced it is enough. Our enemy is not just angry peasants with rusted weapons. There are other hands at work. Hidden ones."
"Hands that slip easily into a body already diseased," Soren replied, tone cold.
"And if we do not cleanse the body…" Gaius cast a glance at the nobles still speaking in low murmurs, "…a small wound will become rot."
Lord Severan Malrec approached, offering a formal bow.
"Your Majesty, perhaps we need more than troops. This is about perception. They fight because they believe suffering justifies rebellion."
Soren spoke without raising his voice, but his gaze was piercing.
"And who gave them that perception, Lord Severan?"
Malrec responded with a neutral smile.
"That, Archon, is precisely what we must find out."
Duke Armand Vaelric stepped forward with two of his advisors.
"My men will be ready in two weeks. But I will not send our sons to die until we know what or who we are facing."
"Lucard has gathered intelligence," Soren said, signaling his subordinate.
Lucard stepped forward.
"There are signs of funds and weapons being funneled to the rebels from unknown sources. And traces of magic… unregistered by Imperial channels. This is not the work of ordinary mages."
The chamber fell silent for a brief moment. A tension lingered quiet, but suffocating.
The Emperor stood slowly.
"Then we face more than rebellion. We may be infiltrated by a foreign entity. Soren, take the report to the Academy. The Grand Rector must see it."
"At once," Soren answered curtly.
While the other nobles began debating logistics and military readiness, Silvain Arcrois quietly slipped out of the hall. His eyes swept the palace servants, ensuring none left without record. For Silvain, war began not on the battlefield but in corridors, in whispers too soft to be called orders.
In a shadowed corner, Marchioness Selene Arceval slowly turned her teacup, observing the discussions from a distance. She said nothing. But her every motion was a ledger entry.
As the chamber finally began to empty, Gaius spoke to Soren in a low voice.
"If this grows into something greater… I'll need you not just as the Archon, but as the executioner."
Soren gave no reply. Only a small nod. And a gaze that reached deeper than usual.