The bright lights and sleek, modern décor of the studio couldn’t mask the tension that hung in the air.

Casia Washi sat across from him, attired in a maroon dress shirt under a fitted black suit jacket. A breathtaking view of the city skyline served as her backdrop.

Ruban rubbed a hand down his pant leg, forcing himself not to fidget.

The background hum of the studio equipment ceased abruptly, prompting Casia to introduce the next segment. Her tone was measured and clipped.

“How do you view the recent surge in public support for Prince Shwaan?” She asked eventually, voice devoid of any noticeable inflection.

Ruban suppressed a sigh.

It’d been three days since he and Ashwin were ambushed at that intersection in Dimuri. Three of the most stressful, unsettling days of Ruban’s life. And considering the year he’d been having, that spoke volumes.

The whole thing had started with a pair of young construction workers, who’d been laboring on the roof of a newly-built commercial structure close to the intersection.

When the ambush began, these two men (like many of the other bystanders) had whipped out their phones and started filming.

The difference was, being on the roof of a twelve-story structure, they’d had an unobstructed, bird’s eye view of the entire showdown. They’d captured things that even Ruban had missed, amidst the chaos. From the moment the gray cars had surrounded them, to when Simani pulled up in a patrol vehicle to pick them up, not a second of footage was missing.

Needless to say, their videos had gone viral on social media. Ruban was sure some of that footage was being used as B-roll for this very segment.

The dramatic bird's eye view amplified the excitement of the events, making it the perfect fodder for sensationalist tabloids and online influencers. Not to mention the drama-hungry netizens of Vandram.

The two construction workers had become overnight celebrities. They were making appearances on late night shows and podcasts that typically played host to movie stars.

Each of the two videos had millions of views, along with hundreds of thousands of shares and comments. And to say that the comments were outlandish, over-the-top would be an understatement.

To Ruban, the fawning, fanatical support was just as disturbing as the vicious, belligerent opposition. Especially because there now seemed to be much more of the former than the latter.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

The clip of Ashwin collapsing to his knees, amidst the onslaught from the frenzied crowd, had been shared millions of times in its own right.

Just as viral was the clip of the posh middle-aged lady in her rust-colored tunic. Rallying the crowd against the attackers, in defence of the fallen Aeriel.

Had the production quality not been so abysmal, Ruban would have no trouble believing the whole thing was a deleted scene from some obscure B-movie.

The ‘surge in public support’ that Casia referred to was simply a byproduct of this latest online frenzy, sparked by the videos.

Not that he was going to admit that on national TV.

Ruban knew from experience that this collective bonhomie was a flash in the pan. And that the hostility would be doubly vicious when the media narrative shifted once again. As it inevitably would, sooner or later.

But this momentary reprieve was hard won. And he was in no hurry to bite the hand that was feeding him currently.

“Has there been any progress in the investigation? Any leads?” Casia pressed, impervious to his deflections. “Who do you think was behind the attack on yourself and Prince Shwaan?”

Ruban blinked. “If I knew that, don’t you think I would’ve told you?” They both knew he wouldn’t. “Dimuri is nowhere close to my jurisdiction. And this is a case for civilian law enforcement, anyway. I’m sure the Hunter Corps will provide all the help they can. I’ve been told Dimuri police is liaising with the West Ragah Division, for this case. But at the end of the day, all the attackers were human. This is a civilian matter. And it wouldn’t be right for the Hunter Corps to go poking its nose in, uninvited, just because I happened to be the one caught in the crossfire.”

“That’s very noble of you,” said Casia flatly. “Do you think that this…shift in the public mood could affect the alliance negotiations with Vaan?”

Ruban reached for his glass of water, taking a deliberate sip to buy himself some time. Public approval for the Vaan alliance was at an all-time high. Which still meant it was well below 50 percent. If the matter was put to a vote tomorrow, they’d lose. He didn’t doubt that for a second.

But for the first time in months, there were actual debates about the issue on public forums. Respected thought leaders and public intellectuals were openly discussing the pros and cons of a potential alliance. Exploring negotiation tactics to secure the best possible deal for Vandram.

For the first time since the Cabinet had sanctioned the alliance, you could talk openly in favor of it without immediately being labeled a traitor and a sell-out.

Well, you could if you weren’t Ruban Kinoh. His name was already far too entangled with Prince Shwaan and his political agendas. Far more so than he was comfortable with. He wasn’t going to fan those flames with any comments that could be taken out of context to manufacture social media outrage.

“That’s…above my paygrade, I’m afraid.” Ruban put the glass down, smiling wryly. “But I trust our elected representatives to make well-considered decisions for the greater good of the Vandran people. Irrespective of any transient social media fads.”

A hint of a smile played on Casia’s lips. “It’s caused a sharp plunge in the prices of Aeriel feathers. Wreaked havoc in the black market, in particular. The minister of commerce himself has congratulated you, publicly, for helping bring the illicit feather trade under control. At this point, I’d call it a bit more than a fad, wouldn’t you?”