That was what their thoughts amounted to.
’It was fine either way, right?’
Because, well, from their perspective, both candidates were suited for the job.
Yes, Malik was a way, way better candidate in their eyes, which meant that, yes, the Chancellor’s didn’t really convince them. Someone couldn’t change so radically at the snap of a finger just because they got an official title, or at least that was what they believed. But if it was temporary anyway, then who cared, right?
What was the harm... right?
Yeah, there was no harm.
Murmurs turned to hesitant nods. Nods turned to quiet, unsure agreements. Not full approval, just that exhausted, defeated kind of acceptance that people get when they didn’t fully understand what was going on but had already fought one war and didn’t want another.
The Chancellor felt it. Smelled it. Enjoyed it.
His back straightened.
He had ’em right where he wanted.
But that was when Malik moved.
He stepped off the roof.
Floated down like a feather made of stone.
And oh—the silence hit.
The entire plaza quietened.
Thousands of people. Warriors. Scholars. Farmers. Nobles clinging to their last scraps of dignity. Even the kids selling roasted nuts on the corner stopped mid-hustle.
The musicians in the distance paused completely; the drums stopped, dead.
Even the wind felt like it held its breath.
He stood right beside the Chancellor, without even bothering to glance at him.
He was staring straight ahead, his face blank with eyes that seemed to have forgotten what being human felt like.
The Chancellor swallowed and tried to laugh it off:
"Ah... Lord Malik. You... ah... came down to—"
"I was asked to speak."
Malik cut him off, his voice flat but loud enough to carry.
He reached into his robes and pulled out a small, black scroll.
"And I will speak of a snake."
The Chancellor’s smile froze.
That one word slammed his mouth shut.
Slowly and casually, Malik unfurled the scroll.
A pulse of cold air rolled across the square, making people step back instinctively.
Above them, a shimmering dome formed, its soft light reflecting images.
A man was shown bleeding out on a carpet.
His mouth was stained red.
His breath was ragged.
"It was you, wasn’t it?"
The man in the projection rasped.
"You who fed poison into my goblet..."
Much of the crowd gasped, and the Chancellor froze, knowing exactly who this was.
"I was loyal to you, child... to all my people."
"But you wanted more. You always wanted more."
The projection flickered again, showing the goblet.
And in the reflection of the polished metal...
One that was all too familiar to Malik and the kingdom.
And he was smiling as wide as could be.
There was no denying it.
Malik turned to the people, a loud hush falling over them.
"This is how your Chancellor took power... he killed..."
His golden eyes wavered.
"He killed his own father... a parricide. And now he was about to do the same to me. He, who did nothing in this war, who waited to receive the fruit of YOUR labor, wants to be your king. What do you say to that?"
The people didn’t gasp this time.
They stared... unable to believe it.
They saw it before their very eyes.
They heard it... noticed it.
"Execute the traitor!"
"I must ask you, the true people of this land, to choose. Do you wish him executed or arrested?"
The crowd roared even louder.
Their answer was clear.
Some did scream for his arrest, but their voices were easily drowned out.
It was mostly nobles or people who were in bed with him anyway, so they didn’t matter.
Malik was going to deal with them later.
"Execution it is. You may leave now. Guards."
Two guards stepped forward but quickly hesitated.
This was the Chancellor they were arresting.
He could kill them with a single slap.
Were they brave enough to do it?
They didn’t have the time to make that decision.
Malik took it from them, gesturing for his own to take the snake.
They came, but paused too, for the Chancellor raised his hand and stepped back.
"This—this is a lie! A fabrication! Who else would’ve known to weave such illusions but him! He’s manipulating your minds!"
One by one, the people began to leave the square.
They did not defend him, did not speak.
They simply stepped away.
Even his personal guards.
Complete and utter abandonment.
Panic had already started to ripple through the ranks of people.
Those who had fought beside him now looked at him like he were poison.
The Chancellor looked around and saw not a kingdom nor support, only isolation.
There were a few who were too indebted that remained, trying to pin his inaction on a "misunderstood strategy," but again, their voices were barely heard over the stomping ground.
Malik looked down at him.
"Not to me, I always knew. You lied to them. You made them believe you cared."
"I watched you during the rebellion."
"You didn’t even bother to hide the fact that your men never showed. Did you think that I was that easily lied to? That in my rage, I wouldn’t question your motives?"
The Chancellor’s gold and green eyes widened.
"I-Is that why you never asked for my name?"
His face drained of color.
"Did you know all along?"
"You’re not the only one who can find secrets, Chancellor."
The Chancellor shook his head and chuckled in defeat.
"I didn’t ’find’ any secrets... I was given them."
Malik’s eyes narrowed.
"...Was it the Sultan?"
The chancellor nodded.
"He told me to expect you."
Barely holding back a sigh, Malik waved him away.
"Send him to the dungeon. He’ll be executed in the morning."
"No one will play king."
The Banu Sasan shackled him with obsidian cuffs before he could even protest.
Or maybe he didn’t want to. Too busy staring at Malik with burning eyes.
It was the pot calling the kettle black.
And as they dragged the Chancellor away, he spat at Malik’s feet.
"You think this makes you righteous?! You think anyone will follow you now?! You’re not their savior! You’re just a weapon they haven’t turned on yet!"
Malik looked down at the spit, then up at the man.
"I’m not their savior."
He turned to what remained of the crowd, to the city that stood behind it.
"I’m their consequence."