Last night, a noble—one of the more arrogant ones—returned from the auction only to find all his guards slaughtered and his prized slave missing. The gruesome sight shook the city's elite, and now, accusations fly like arrows in a battlefield.
Inside a grand estate, several nobles gather in a dimly lit chamber. The atmosphere is thick with anger and suspicion.
"This is an insult!" one noble growls, slamming his fist onto the table. His face is red with fury. "To think that someone would dare attack a noble's entourage."
An older noble leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "It's not just an attack. It was a message. Someone is telling us that our power means nothing," he says, voice calm but cold.
A third noble, younger and more impulsive, sneers. "Who else but the royal family would dare challenge us so openly? The guards were slaughtered without resistance! No common criminal could pull this off!"
Murmurs of agreement ripple through the room.
"But why would the royal family do such a thing?" another noble interjects, skepticism evident in his tone. "They have no reason to provoke us . If they wanted to challenge us, they'd do so openly, not through back-alley assassinations."
"Reason or not, the fact remains," the older noble says, folding his hands together. "The king has been silent for too long, and we nobles are gaining power, while the royal family is declining. And now, the balance of power is shifting."
Silence follows his words. The implications are clear.
Outside the estate, the city guards move restlessly, their orders unclear. The common folk whisper among themselves, some fearful, others curious. Rumors spread like wildfire. Some say it was the work of an unknown assassin. Others claim that the missing slave was no ordinary purchase but someone of great importance.
And beneath the surface, hidden in the cracks of Eldoria's grandeur, another force watches from the shadows. Waiting. Planning.
For a while, Alix does nothing—simply sitting in his chamber, allowing the quiet to settle around him. No battles to fight, no urgent matters to handle. Just peace.
But after a couple of hours, the stillness starts to feel unnatural. His mind, always sharp and restless, urges him to move.
He could teleport directly to his workplace with a thought, but instead, he stands, stretching slightly before stepping out of his chamber.
His boots echo against the polished black stone floors as he walks through the palace, taking in its beauty. He has lived here long enough to be familiar with every corridor, every towering archway, yet even now, the sight still holds a certain awe.
Tall obsidian pillars line the halls, glowing faintly with golden runes that pulse like a heartbeat. Large windows of enchanted glass stretch high, revealing breathtaking views of Noctaris below. The floating platforms drifting in the distance, the cascading waterfalls that shimmer with ethereal energy—his city is alive, thriving.
Several maids and attendants bow as he passes, their expressions respectful yet subtly curious. It's rare for their king to take a leisurely stroll rather than moving with his usual sharp purpose.
Draya, his personal maid, appears from a side hall, her hair glinting under the soft glow of the palace lights. She studies him for a moment before falling into step beside him.
"You're walking today, Your Majesty?" she asks, her tone neutral but carrying the faintest hint of amusement.
Alix smirks. "What, do you think I've grown lazy?"
"Not at all," Draya replies smoothly. "But you rarely take time to admire your own kingdom. It's an unusual sight."
"Hmm." He lets his gaze drift across the palace again, the sheer scale of it sinking in. "Maybe I should do it more often."
gives a slight nod, but her sharp eyes never miss a detail. "Did something happen?"
Alix chuckles. "Do I need a reason to walk?"
He huffs a quiet laugh but doesn't deny it. Instead, he stops near a balcony, looking out over Noctaris as the evening lights shimmer across the city.
Draya stands beside him in silence, her gaze also drifting over the breathtaking view of Noctaris. The city is alive with activity, its streets glowing with soft luminescence, the floating platforms moving seamlessly between towering spires.
After a moment, she speaks. "Also, Your Majesty, while you were away, there's an urgent report from the Shadows."
Alix's smirk fades slightly. "Then I'll go and read it."
Without another word, he turns away from the balcony and strides down the hall. His movements are unhurried, but there's a weight behind them now. Draya follows a few steps behind.
Soon, they arrive at his workspace. The chamber is dimly lit, the air carrying the faint scent of parchment and ink. His desk, large and made of dark obsidian, holds only a few neatly arranged items—among them, a sealed document marked with the insignia of the Shadows, his elite intelligence network.
Alix settles into his chair, breaking the seal with a flick of his fingers. He unfolds the parchment and begins reading.
The words are concise, but the weight of their meaning sinks deep.
The Raltheon Kingdom is now in turmoil. The noble faction is preparing for rebellion.
Alix's expression remains unreadable, but his fingers tighten slightly on the parchment.
He continues reading.
The nobles are confident because they have backing. The Valgros Kingdom is supporting them from the shadows.
A slow exhale leaves Alix's lips.
One that has long sought to expand its influence. If they're involved, this rebellion isn't just some noble squabble—it's a calculated move to destabilize Raltheon and potentially absorb it into their growing empire.
After some thought, Alix decides to call it a day. Tomorrow will be a long one.
He stands, stretching briefly before heading toward his quarters. As he moves through the grand halls of his palace, his mind lingers on the unfolding events. War is brewing, and soon, he will have to decide how to play his hand.
For now, though, he lets the tension ease from his shoulders. There's no use in overthinking things tonight.