THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

Salomonis spread his hands in a gesture of scholarly perplexity. "Dungeon environments are notorious for generating anomalous magical phenomena, Your Grace. Witness accounts often become confused or exaggerated, particularly during high-stress situations. Our official documentation focuses on verifiable observations rather than subjective experiences."

The Duke's expression cooled slightly at Salomonis's evasion. "Of course. The empire values precision in all things." He gestured to the Sun Maids, who stepped forward with their ceremonial burdens. "Nevertheless, the achievement stands. By imperial decree, you and your companions are hereby granted the Order of the Golden Dawn, with all rights and privileges therein."

The ceremony proceeded with meticulous adherence to tradition. Medals were presented, formal words exchanged, and the assembled nobility applauded with appropriate enthusiasm. Throughout it all, Salomonis maintained the delicate balance required of his position—gracious but not effusive, honored but not overawed.

As the formal proceedings concluded, Duke Lorvantis leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping to a register that wouldn't carry beyond the dais. "Minister Salomonis, the Empress wishes to convey her personal sympathies regarding the recent... incidents in Lysora County. Her Radiance is deeply concerned about the unknown enemies that breached your territories."

Salomonis felt a chill that had nothing to do with the chamber's temperature. The invasion had been deliberately kept out of official reports. "The Empress is currently in residence, then? I had not heard Her Radiance was receiving visitors."

"Her Radiance's schedule is naturally privileged information," the Duke replied smoothly. "I merely convey the message. You will be contacted with details."

Before Salomonis could respond, the Duke turned to address the broader assembly, effectively ending their private exchange. "Let us celebrate these heroes with a formal reception in the Imperial Gardens!"

As the assembly began to disperse, Kairos Vale materialized at Salomonis's shoulder, his voice barely audible even at close range. "We're being watched. Multiple angles."

"I noticed." Salomonis maintained his pleasant expression while subtly scanning the chamber. "The Duke knows details that were shared only among our inner circle. Someone close to us has been feeding information to the court."

Aria joined them, her white hair partially concealing her face as she leaned in. "That wasn't the Empress's request. The Duke is intercepting her communications." Lightning flickered briefly in her eyes. "His magical signature carries deception."

Siegfried said nothing, his weathered face impassive, but his hand rested meaningfully on his sword hilt.

As they followed the procession toward the Imperial Gardens, Salomonis made a show of admiring the palace architecture while murmuring to his companions. "We have confirmation then. The infiltration has reached the highest levels."

"And Nicalo?" Kairos asked, his hood shifting to reveal a glimpse of a face that seemed more shadow than substance.

"No longer himself," Salomonis confirmed grimly. "Whatever entity has taken him is sophisticated—far more so than typical possession."

Siegfried finally spoke, his voice a low rumble. "We should warn the boy."

"Not yet," Salomonis cautioned. "Any communication attempt from within the palace will be monitored. We need to maintain our cover until we're clear of imperial grounds."

Aria's fingers traced a subtle pattern at her side, a minor spell to diffuse their conversation from potential eavesdroppers. "What about the Empress? If she's being isolated..."

"One problem at a time," Salomonis replied, though the question weighed heavily on him. "Our immediate concern is protecting our knowledge of David's capabilities. Whatever game the Duke is playing, he clearly suspects something significant occurred in the Abyss."

They passed beneath an ornate archway into the blinding sunlight of the Imperial Gardens, the scent of exotic flowers temporarily masking the palace's underlying currents of power and deception. Ahead of them, Count Nicalo turned slightly, catching Salomonis's eye with a smile that was technically perfect yet fundamentally wrong.

"Minister," he called pleasantly, "do join me. I've been dying to hear more about your fascinating discoveries."

Salomonis froze momentarily, the word "dying" from the demon-possessed Count triggering a surge of rage that threatened to overwhelm his composure. Arcane symbols briefly flared to life across his robes as his power responded to his emotions. His fingers curled, blue energy crackling between them.

Aria smoothly stepped closer, her hand brushing against his arm. "Easy," she whispered, the word carried on a controlled static charge that only he could hear. Simultaneously, Kairos's shadow stretched unnaturally, curling around Salomonis's feet in warning.

With tremendous effort, Salomonis mastered himself, the magical energy dissipating. He nodded with practiced cordiality, moving to join the Count while silently calculating how much longer they needed to maintain these pretenses. The ceremony had confirmed their worst fears about the capital's condition, and somewhere in Valemir, David remained unaware of the forces now seeking him.

The game had shifted to a deadlier phase, and they were playing against opponents who had already infiltrated the board's highest positions.

————————————————————————————————————

Hours later, after the reception had concluded, Siegfried moved alone through the western corridor of the Sun Palace. The celebrations had dispersed, the nobles retreating to their political maneuvering, leaving the palace halls in relative quiet. His heavy footsteps echoed against marble floors, his weathered face set in grim determination.

He had separated from the others deliberately. Salomonis would be occupied with the court's attention for some time—the perfect opportunity for Siegfried to complete his private errand.

As he approached an alcove adorned with ancient battle frescos, the wall beside him rippled like disturbed water. Siegfried halted, his hand instinctively moving to his sword hilt.

From the stone itself emerged a woman of striking beauty. Her gown flowed like liquid night around a form both ethereal and dangerous. Half her face remained concealed behind an elegant mask of silver filigree and sapphires, but the visible portion was enough to hint at beauty beyond mortal measure.

Without hesitation, Siegfried dropped to one knee, head bowed in deference. "Lady Vaesha," he intoned. "The Patriarch of the Broken Blade honors me with her presence."

The air around them seemed to thicken, sounds from elsewhere in the palace growing distant and muffled. In a motion almost too swift to follow, Vaesha's hand shot forward, fingers closing around Siegfried's throat with inhuman strength. She lifted him from his kneeling position until his feet barely touched the floor.

"What is the meaning of this?" Siegfried gasped, his hands instinctively grasping her wrist.

"You disappoint me, Knight," Vaesha's voice carried harmonic undertones that resonated painfully in Siegfried's skull. "Why did you lie to me?"

Siegfried's face reddened from the pressure on his throat, but his eyes remained defiant. "My Lady... I truly don't know where David De Gor is," he managed to rasp. "I've been trying to get Salomonis to lower his guard... to reveal the boy's location. He doesn't trust me with that information."

Vaesha's grip tightened momentarily, then relaxed just enough to allow him to speak more clearly. "After all this time in my service, you still believe you can deceive me?" The disappointment in her voice was somehow more terrifying than anger would have been.

"No deception," Siegfried insisted, desperation creeping into his voice. "The boy and the Archon disappeared after the Abyss. Salomonis keeps their location compartmentalized. Give me more time—"

"Time," Vaesha echoed, the word hanging in the air like a death sentence. "Your time has expired, Knight of the Broken Blade."

With her free hand, she reached up and removed her mask, revealing what lay beneath. Where there should have been human eyes, rows of needle-sharp fangs glistened in a jaw that extended unnaturally wide.

Recognition and horror dawned in Siegfried's eyes. "Demon," he spat, struggling with renewed vigor. "You're not Vaesha! What have you done with the Patriarch?"

Her laughter was like glass shattering. "Poor, loyal Siegfried. Serving a master who never existed." Her jaw unhinged with a sickening crack. "The Patriarch of the Broken Blade has always been me."

Before Siegfried could cry out, she lunged forward, fangs sinking into his head with terrifying precision. The struggle lasted only seconds before his body went limp. With casual disdain, Vaesha tossed the corpse against the wall—where, impossibly, it didn't impact but instead sank into the stone as if absorbed by the palace itself.

Vaesha delicately wiped a droplet of blood from her chin, her features rearranging themselves into their beautiful mask as she replaced the silver filigree over her face.

"Where are you hiding, David De Gror?" she murmured, her voice once again melodious and refined. "And you, Elara va Ironblade... the Archon of Lysora County."

With a fluid motion that defied physics, she stepped backward into the solid wall, the stone rippling briefly before settling back to stillness—leaving only the empty corridor and no evidence of the knight who would never return to his companions.