CHAPTER 496: CHAPTER 490: THE EMPIRE’S POWER

Cain closed the holocase with precise care, bowing once more before he withdrew. The chamber doors whispered shut behind him, leaving only the low thrum of conduits in the walls and the faint glow of the scarlet map still hovering in the air.

For a moment neither emperor nor empress spoke. Gabriel’s eyes lingered on the red-saturated outline of Wrohan, the corners of his mouth faintly curved as though the map itself had answered every question the envoy had not dared to voice.

"They will take our hand," he said at last. "They may call it partnership, but they will not hesitate when the alternative is collapse."

Damian rose smoothly, the shift of his suit catching the muted light. He closed the map with a flick of his wrist, the projection folding into darkness, as final as the words he left behind. "Then Wrohan will learn what every neighbor has. Stability comes only through us."

"Mhmm... You sound like a tyrant when speaking like this."

Gabriel’s remark was quiet, almost amused, but the sharpness beneath it carried weight.

Damian glanced at him, golden eyes catching the dim light as he adjusted the cuff of his jacket. "A tyrant takes without giving. We offer stability, security, and prosperity. If they mistake necessity for tyranny, it is because they fear the weight of their own weakness."

Gabriel’s lips curved, the faintest ghost of a smile breaking his composure. "You make it sound kinder than it is." He slid the slim tablet under his arm, already scanning the next set of schedules. "But then, perhaps the truth doesn’t need to be kind. Only useful."

Damian stepped closer as they reached the chamber doors, his voice lowering just enough for only him to hear. "If stability is tyranny, then let history name us tyrants. The Empire will still stand."

Gabriel tilted his head, brown eyes gleaming with both steel and humor. "History will name us many things. But what matters is that when Wrohan signs, it will be their hand reaching for ours, not the other way around."

The doors slid open at their approach, the corridor beyond already alive with the quiet shuffle of aides and the distant hum of machinery. Another delegation waited, another dossier to dissect, another decision that would ripple across borders.

Gabriel straightened, smoothing his jacket with the ease of habit. "Detrom’s representatives are next. Energy reviews, budget proposals, refinery outputs. Wrohan will think they were our priority today. But in truth..." His voice dipped with dry amusement. "...they’re just a line item before the real work."

Damian’s mouth curved faintly, the only concession to his mood as they walked forward side by side. "And the real work never ends."

—

The council chamber reserved for Detrom was larger, not because ceremony demanded it, but because scale was necessary. Entire walls lit with projections: refinery outputs, ether consumption graphs, and shipping routes branching across the continent like arteries of fire. The scent of ozone clung faintly to the conduits, carrying the hum of live data drawn straight from Detrom’s central core.

The representatives rose as one when Damian and Gabriel entered, followed closely by Max Claymore and Theo von Jaunez. Max carried himself with his usual easy grace, but his green eyes missed nothing, sharp beneath the veneer of charm. Theo’s posture was more rigid, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze already fixed on the figures rippling across the projection.

They all bowed deeply, Detrom’s delegation careful to acknowledge not only the Emperor and Empress but also the two men flanking them, living reminders that the Empire’s reach was both political and personal.

Damian took his seat at the head of the table, Gabriel sliding into place beside him with measured grace. Max leaned casually against the table’s edge, while Theo remained standing behind Gabriel, a silent weight of authority.

"Begin," Damian said simply.

The lead representative, a man with silvered hair and precise diction, activated the holodisplay. "Your Majesties, Detrom’s annual review shows an eight percent increase in refinery throughput. Ether-stabilized fuel cells have surpassed projected exports by nearly twelve percent. The expansion of the southern corridor has reduced shipment delays to the Capital by seventy-two hours."

The data unfurled in color-coded clarity: red bars, green spikes, and yellow timelines, each one a visual testament to the reach of the Empire’s industrial engine.

Gabriel leaned forward, scanning the figures with practiced ease. "Your progress is noted. But I see fluctuations here." With a swipe of his fingers, one sector magnified, a refinery complex flashing with uneven output across the past quarter. "Explain."

The representative hesitated, then steadied. "Instability in the ether supply chain, Majesty. Local veins shifted faster than anticipated. We compensated with imports, but margins narrowed."

Theo’s voice cut in, even, precise. "Imports from where?"

The man faltered. "The Donin corridor, Your Grace."

Theo’s eyes narrowed, his tone sharpening without rising. "Unacceptable. The Donin corridor remains unstable. Risking reliance there undermines every stabilizer in the western region. This will be corrected."

Max shifted his weight, arms folding loosely, his voice deceptively casual. "And let’s not pretend the numbers hide it. I see three separate refineries reporting sudden spikes in ’maintenance downtime.’ Either someone is siphoning resources, or your accounting is messier than you admit."

The representatives stiffened, the silver-haired spokesman paling slightly. "We will audit the reports at once."

Gabriel’s mouth curved faintly, though his eyes stayed sharp. "Do that. And forward the results within the week. Narrowing margins is not acceptable. Not when these figures anchor three continental grids. Detrom engineers will work directly with imperial regulators until output variance falls below two percent."

Damian’s golden eyes swept the table, catching every delegate in their turn. His voice carried the weight of inevitability. "Remember this: Detrom is not merely an enterprise. It is the backbone of imperial stability. If you stumble, entire cities stumble with you. There will be no excuses. Only results."

The weight of silence pressed in before the delegation bowed again, voices overlapping. "Yes, Your Majesties."

Gabriel closed the holomap with a tap, his expression unreadable save for the faint curve of satisfaction at his lips. "Continue with the expansions. Forward the revised numbers to the Palace by week’s end. Wrohan imagines their ether is leverage. Show them instead what real leverage looks like."

When the session ended, Damian rose with Gabriel at his side. Max fell into step behind them, his earlier amusement giving way to the cool efficiency he only displayed in moments like these. Theo remained quiet, but the sharp line of his expression spoke volumes; every flaw in Detrom’s system was already catalogued and waiting for correction.

To Cain Canmore and his king, Detrom’s figures would be hidden. But here, within the Empire’s walls, the truth was clear: power was measured not only in armies and treaties but also in the steady hum of conduits, the precision of numbers, and the quiet certainty of those who enforced them.