Chương 77: Chapter 76 Edited

Loric Demeran — Barony of the House of Demeran I could have been out with my friends. I sighed as I took a sparkling wine, pinching the stem of one of the glasses from a passing server's tray. She narrowed her eyes at me, then quickly composed herself. I gave her my best smile, making sure she saw the charm. Then I went back to listening. The attempted cover-up regarding the attack on Valecis Isle failed in the only arena that truly mattered. It was sensational, to say the least.

It may have delayed speculation in the outer Districts, and it may have bought the Crown a few measured hours among the merchant circles, and it did nothing to slow the exchange of information between the noble houses and, of course, the World Tree Lattice. No one could control information on the World Tree for long. Reports reached my father before dawn. By sunrise he had already begun drafting the language he now recites from the terrace overlooking the Sevenfold Basin.

Officially, the message and this gathering exist to reassure. The Knights neutralized the threat. The perpetrators were extremists from a Lower Plane faction. No specific target was identified. Trade remains uninterrupted. The borders remain secure. The Crown remains steady. The repetition is deliberate. It is meant to settle nerves. I thought that was funny when my father first brought it up, and I know that sounds insensitive. I do not mean it that way.

The truth is that those of us raised within Aurelion Prime understand scale and timing. The strike on Valecis Isle occurred during peak diplomatic visibility, with visiting nobility from two independent states present. Not only that, Kaereth Valmor himself was within operational radius. That proximity alone would have triggered additional defensive measures and heightened response protocols if the attackers had pushed further.

This attempt to strike nobles near Arclight using such violent and vile methods was a message in itself. The scale required was enormous. The resources necessary to penetrate Valecis Isle's defenses and challenge the military presence stationed there spoke volumes about the seriousness of the attempt. Whoever commissioned this was not playing games. The unsettling part was that this was not the first incident of its kind. Less than three months ago, armed men attempted to kidnap Princess Talena.

Only the intervention of an independent mercenary prevented her capture. The two incidents, separated by less than a season, differed in method and shared striking similarities. Both involved high-value individuals whose loss would destabilize Vera politically and strain its alliances. Both disrupted environments that were considered secure. Both were executed with discipline and preparation that suggested significant planning and resources.

In both cases the civilian populations would have suffered if the attackers had fully succeeded. None of it looked incidental. The entire situation reeked of motive and cruelty. The Crown and its advisors insist the two attacks are unrelated, and that explanation requires more faith than logic permits. An attack on the Crown Princess, the seventeen-year-old firebrand who manages to be both brilliant and terrifying, followed by an attempt involving one of the Dominion's most politically important young nobles?

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. If those two events are unrelated, then I am secretly the offspring of a unicorn. Which is how I found myself here with my father, surrounded by the politicians, advisors, businessmen, and military officers who form the real structure of Vera. I looked around.

"Loric? Hello? Loric?" I turned to see Tana Telon, my knight-at-arms. She was a rough-looking woman, a long scar cutting across her face from a knight's duel she had fought five years ago. She had won the duel and paid dearly for it. I tried not to stare at the scar, though it was difficult to ignore.

"Why were you zoning out?" she asked. I smiled easily.

"Just enjoying the view." And it was true. Coming to the Royal Palace at Aurelion Prime was something very few people ever experienced in person. The palace rises from the innermost ring of the Sevenfold Basin, its terraces anchored into bedrock older than the Dominion itself. The architecture favors horizontal strength over vertical spectacle, projecting permanence and authority in equal measure.

The outer promenades are public-facing, bordered by low mana-channeling fountains that feed the palace's defensive lattice. The formal gardens beyond them follow geometric patterns that reinforce stabilizing arrays, though most guests assume the layout is purely aesthetic. Further inward, the courtyards narrow lines of approach and carefully manage sightlines. Reinforced crystal is integrated into structural columns, and surveillance sigils remain nearly invisible unless someone knows exactly where to look.

The Palace Hall itself rests upon a mana-stabilized foundation keyed to the Royal bloodline, ensuring that ceremony and defense operate on the same grid. The place had been designed nearly a thousand years ago to intimidate visitors. It still worked. The guests currently milling around the terrace did not seem to appreciate that fact. Nobles wandered between tables while squads of Royal Guards in full Technica armor stood in perfect formation along the perimeter. The gathering itself was gaining momentum.

Representatives of the Four Pillar Houses, Vanta, Valmor, Caelvaris, and Serrathis, were all present, whether patriarch, heir, or chosen representative, each accompanied by their own retinue. Even the lower nobility could sense the tension created by the events surrounding Valecis Isle. It was not long before the speeches began. My father spoke of unity, resilience, and coordinated vigilance. His tone carried the cadence of reassurance, and his posture betrayed something else.

His shoulders leaned slightly forward, and his gaze lingered on each Ducal representative a moment longer than necessary, as if measuring their reactions. He offered the usual praise for the Knight Order of the Silent Decree and the Dominion's security forces. Then he reminded the assembled elite that only through cooperation could they identify the weaknesses exposed by the attack and bring those responsible to justice. I stopped listening after a while. My father can speak for hours and say almost nothing at all.

Even King Cassian Aurion and Queen Marcelline Aurion looked bored. Then the atmosphere shifted. It was not dramatic. It was unmistakable. People turned. Conversations paused. Princess Talena Aurion stepped onto the terrace. She carried composure the way she had been trained to. Her posture remained perfectly aligned, her aura tightly controlled. The marble beneath her feet reflected the light upward, catching along the edges of her figure and forcing every movement into clarity.

Talena Aurion was a striking woman, the sort whose presence rearranged a room before she spoke a single word. Her features carried the unmistakable stamp of the royal line: high cheekbones, a sharp and deliberate jaw, and eyes that held a pale violet sheen that seemed almost luminous in the afternoon light. Her hair fell in controlled waves of silver touched with the faintest hint of lavender, pinned back at the temples with a clasp bearing the Dominion's crest.

She was tall for a woman of Vera, her height only reinforced by the quiet confidence with which she moved. The gown she wore followed the restrained fashion of the court, deep blue silk threaded with subtle mana filaments that caught the light when she turned, though the design favored function over ornament. It framed her shoulders and waist with careful patterns, emphasizing strength and softness in equal measure. It was not beauty alone that held attention.

Talena possessed the unsettling clarity of someone accustomed to command. Her gaze moved across the terrace with calm deliberation, acknowledging faces without lingering on them. Nobles who had been speaking moments before lowered their voices as she passed, not because she demanded silence, because the instinct to do so felt natural in her presence. Power rested on her as easily as the fabric at her shoulders.

Her aura, normally turbulent in those who wielded multiple cores, remained tightly bound, the currents of wind and lightning aligned beneath layers of disciplined control. She did not need to announce herself. The terrace had already begun adjusting around her. She walked directly to her father without preamble.