CHAPTER 95: WITHOUT QUESTION.

He stepped closer, placing a hand at the back of Aric’s neck, drawing him in with a rare, unguarded look—a father’s grief, a husband’s regret, an emperor’s impossible choice.

"Find those who plotted against your mother," he murmured, voice barely more than a breath.

"And make them pay."

The words lingered, a promise carved into silence.

As Aric looked his father in the eyes, his expression hardened, every word deliberate and cutting.

"You need not ask this of me," he said, his voice quiet but his intent loud, "but rest assured, they will pay with their lives and more." His gaze was as fixed as iron, the promise filling the chamber like a silent echo.

Xavier’s eyes lingered on his son, the lines of his face deepening in the torchlight as if etched with unspoken regrets.

Though the emperor’s countenance remained firm, there was a glimmer—perhaps relief, perhaps something else entirely—that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

After a moment, Xavier finally nodded, as if that single gesture carried all the words a father and son might never speak aloud.

"It is necessary," he began, his voice low but steady. "Soon, you shall meet with the Senate and clarify our official stance with the Northrenders. If need be, I will make it known that whatever has happened is... in line with the empire’s ambitions. As for Byzeth..." Xavier’s voice dropped, his gaze narrowing as he continued, "there is no need to share unnecessary details with the Senate. What you have done, how you achieved it—that remains between us."

Aric bowed, dipping his head in genuine respect, though his face betrayed no trace of emotion.

"Thank you, Father, for your... clemency." Without another word, he turned and departed, feeling his father’s gaze heavy at his back, knowing their fragile understanding was, at best, a brittle truce.

The night had deepened, shadows lengthening in the halls as Aric made his way back toward the banquet.

His footsteps echoed through the still corridors, filling the silence with the rhythm of his purposeful stride.

When he re-entered the banquet hall, the chatter of the nobles softened to a murmur. He felt their eyes, some subtle, others piercing, as they tried to measure what had transpired behind closed doors. It was as though he had stepped into a den of jackals, each one assessing the danger in their midst.

Almost on cue, Serina appeared at his side, her movements fluid and unobtrusive as shadow, and together they made for the hall’s exit. As they neared the doors, Aric turned once more, casting a sweeping gaze across the gathered nobles.

"I extend my sincere appreciation to those of you who deemed this occasion worthy of your time. Pressing matters demand my attention, but I trust you will enjoy the remainder of your evening." He inclined his head slightly before turning away, leaving behind a hall of nodding heads and whispered speculation.

As they passed down the palace corridors, torchlight spilled across the floor, shadows rippling with each step. Imperial guards flanked them on either side, moving in silence, as if even their breath bowed to the quiet intensity of Aric’s presence.

"So?" he murmured without turning, his voice almost inaudible.

"Most do not support you," Serina replied smoothly, her tone soft but precise, each word chosen with care.

Aric gave a low chuckle, more exhalation than amusement.

"Expected as much," he said.

She continued, her tone sharp as glass. "Some see you as an inconvenience, too unremarkable to threaten their schemes. But others... they are unsettled. Your sudden rise has left them wary."

Aric nodded, the corner of his mouth curving into a subtle, knowing smile. While he had traded pleasantries and banter with veiled meaning, Serina had drifted through the crowd, every exchange calculated, every gesture observed, sifting allies from enemies with surgical precision.

"Report the full details to Hitoshi," he ordered, his words edged with purpose.

"Well... any allies?"

Serina’s gaze flicked toward him, her eyes glinting with intrigue.

"More than expected, though they hide in shadow. They call themselves the Ashen Covenant." Her voice lowered as she went on, her tone softening with each word.

"There is Viscount Kael Draylen. He leads them. A handful of disillusioned nobles, each watching the empire with growing distaste. They are quiet, but they see your ascension as inevitable."

Aric listened, every name sinking into him like water upon parched earth. Draylen. Once a power in the capital, stripped of everything when branded traitor.

Now, they seemed ready to back him in secret, driven by vengeance that mirrored his own.

"And there is House Vallis," Serina continued. "The family of healers and alchemists. They are intrigued by your... miraculous rise. They see your restored strength as a sign, even an omen, that the empire’s balance may soon shift."

"Hmm," Aric murmured, storing it away. If they could be bound to him openly, their knowledge would be invaluable.

"And lastly, House Sylmaris," Serina said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "A minor family, but masters of diplomacy and espionage. They could be your eyes and ears within the court when the time arrives. Their connections run deep, yet they remain unseen—underestimated, even. They could prove decisive in the long game."

Aric’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Each house, each figure, was another strand in the growing web that would one day bind the empire itself.

As they reached the end of the palace steps, a black, polished carriage awaited, its lacquered surface swallowing the pale moonlight. Guards moved to open the doors, and Aric and Serina climbed inside, settling into velvet-cushioned seats.

The door shut with a heavy thud, sealing them in, and the air swelled with anticipation.

For a moment, there was only silence—the faint creak of the carriage beneath them, the fading murmur of the palace behind. Aric exhaled, a slow, deliberate release of tension, and with a flick of his wrist, a dagger appeared in his hand.

He turned it over, watching the blade catch a shard of moonlight through the window.

"Are they ready?" he asked, his voice a steady, cold whisper.

Serina nodded, her expression unyielding. "They await us in position."