The conference room Ruban found himself in was richly furnished, with an attractive blend of vintage and modern elements. During the day, natural light would stream in from the large picture windows at the back, illuminating the spacious interiors, ivory walls, and polished wooden flooring.

As it was, an ornate chandelier gleamed overhead, its elaborate metal frame adorned with intricate scrollwork and glittering crystal prisms. Gilded sconces on all four walls provided extra lighting.

Panels of burnished wood ran along the bottom half of the wall on three sides of the room. Portraits of the Founding Fathers studded the upper half, interspersed with a few generic landscape paintings.

A large mahogany conference table – surrounded by ten leather-upholstered chairs of matching design – occupied much of the floor space.

This building had once served as the primary residence of the erstwhile Aeriel monarchy, and the room seemed determined to not let you forget it. Ruban wondered what point the Cabinet wanted to prove, choosing this space for the meeting.

Unnati Jha, chief of the Hunter Corps, sat at the end of the table that was farthest from the door.

Official records confirmed her age to be fifty-four; but with her sharp, aquiline nose, jet-black hair, and slender frame, she didn’t look a day over forty. Her uniform was immaculate, her posture exuding a relaxed alertness that came only from years of experience and hard training.

As her flinty gaze landed on Ruban, her already-thin lips pressed into a straight line. She was not pleased.

For a moment, Ruban was absurdly glad for the large wooden table that stood between them.

“Ah, Kinoh. Our young flagbearer of truth and justice,” the Chief Hunter drawled. Her chilly smile made Ruban’s shoulders tense involuntarily. “You absolutely had to tell those reporters outside that we plan to keep the cultists in custody for the duration of the investigation, didn’t you? You couldn’t possibly have kept your mouth shut. Not when the great Viman Rai himself had descended upon us to goad you into a confrontation with the press.”

“Your bluntness will end up causing a riot, one of these days.” Lohit Raizada, the director of the IAW, was seated to Unnati’s left. He was a thickset, middle-aged man with short grayish hair, a prominent forehead, and a thin moustache that sat uneasily on his bow-shaped upper lip. “You may not be a politician, Ruban, but social media being what it is, you’re in the public eye more often than not. You can’t afford to forget that, especially when talking to the media.”

“Especially now, when the nation is so on edge about these rumors of an alliance with Vaan,” said Jheel Sen, the minister of external affairs, sitting to Unnati’s right.

She wore a loose gray tunic which somehow looked like a statement piece on her, but would’ve resembled a shapeless sack had somebody else dared to don it. Her luxuriant brown curls – which showed no signs of thinning with age – were pulled up in a messy ponytail at the back of her head. She’d been an actress before starting a career in politics, and it showed.

Ruban frowned. “It’s not about the rumors, or even the alliance. An investigation into this latest lynching is a must for the safety of our people. It’s not safe for civilians to be wielding reinforced sifblades. Even Hunters need extensive retraining for optimal control, given how volatile reinforced sif can be. We need to find out how HAVA got its hands on the weapon, as soon as possible. Because if there’s a leak in SifCo–”

“It’s good to see you feel that way.” Dhriti Pathak’s saccharine voice drifted to them from across the room. She’d entered through one of the picture windows, and presently came to sit beside Jheel Sen. “Given your history of…uh,” her tongue flicked over glossy lips. “Anti-Aeriel zeal, I’d have thought you’d support the cults resisting this alliance with Vaan.” Her heavily-lashed eyes darted around the room, perhaps gauging the reactions she’d managed to elicit.

Before Ruban could come up with an apt rebuttal, Hiba Asrar, the cabinet secretary, lumbered into the room with Ashwin in tow.

Three-and-a-half years into her four-year term as cabinet secretary, Hiba was a large, full-figured woman with milky skin and droopy eyes. She had a mind like a steel trap, and looked like she was perpetually restraining herself from dozing off. She’d been good friends with Uncle Subhas, during his early years at the Department of Defence.

With a groan, she lowered herself into the seat opposite Unnati Jha, inviting Ashwin to sit beside her with a brief nod.

Unnati eyed Ruban, prompting him to take the seat beside Raizada, effectively putting as much distance between him and Ashwin as was possible without removing either of them from the table.

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“We’ll get this meeting started as soon as the others arrive,” Hiba rumbled, eyeing the three empty chairs close to the center of the table. “But I feel it’s my duty to warn you, Prince – ah – Shwaan…” The palpable unease in her voice would’ve been amusing, had the situation been less critical.

“You can call me Ashwin,” the Aeriel smiled, affably oblivious. “That’s my…umm, nickname. Here on earth.”

“Your nickname?” Repeated Jheel, one shapely eyebrow raised.

Ashwin nodded, smile bright and unhampered.

Hiba cleared her throat. “Be that as it may, I must warn you that this meeting has been called simply to discuss the ongoing investigation into the…uh, unfortunate lynching of an Aeriel at Kanla Park, less than a fortnight ago. There shall not be any official announcements about our nascent alliance with Vaan, now or in the foreseeable future.”

Ashwin dipped his head, the picture of easy complaisance. “I’d never ask you to do anything that’s counter to your interests, or the interests of your country.”

The slight quirk of Hiba’s lips told Ruban she was not impressed by this specious docility.

Still, he watched as the frown lines on Jheel Sen’s forehead smoothed out and Raizada’s shoulders lost some of their rigidity. He even detected a minute relaxation in Dhriti’s posture.

“Well, I’m glad we agree on the basics, at least.” Unnati, the Chief Hunter, scrutinized Ashwin with impassive curiosity, cataloguing every expression that flitted across his face for future dissection. “Because this investigation needs to be wrapped up as quickly as possible. We don’t have the grounds to keep those HAVA activists in custody for too long, especially not with the media as stirred up as it currently is.”

Raizada nodded, sighing. “Legally, they were within their rights to try and kill the Aeriel if it attacked them first.”

“Which is what they’re claiming happened,” she scoffed. “And there’s no evidence – nor any witnesses – to prove otherwise.”

“But, Unnati, what about the dashcam footage from the car Ruban drove to Kanla Park that night?” Jheel asked, turning to look at the Chief Hunter. “Surely, we can use that to–”

“It wouldn’t matter what’s on the dashcam,” Raizada interrupted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “The clash was already underway by the time Ruban got there. Two of the cultists were already dead, unless I’m mistaken. Nothing in the footage would convince the public it wasn’t the Aeriel that attacked first, likely unprovoked.”

“No, but perhaps we don’t need to prove that the Aeriel was innocent,” Ashwin murmured, two fingers absently tapping his lips. “Simply that the cults are a danger to themselves, and to those around them. So, releasing them at the moment wouldn’t be in anybody’s best interests.”

“And how do you suggest we prove that?” Unnati’s voice was tinged with reluctant curiosity.

Ashwin graced her with a beatific smile. “Is it so hard to imagine that my sister might device some comeuppance for those who’ve spent the better part of the last quarter illegally Hunting down her scouts? After all, her reaction to the mafia’s antics last year – the devastation she wrought at Reivaa’s castle – is common knowledge by now. At the moment, there mightn’t be anywhere the HAVA activists would be safer than they are in police custody.”

Unnati’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat?”

Ashwin chuckled. “If only I had the power to make Safaa lift a finger at my behest.” He shook his head. “No, no, my sister does as she pleases. And another skirmish with the cults certainly wouldn’t please her, at the moment. But the media and the cultists don’t need to know that, do they? The threat of retaliation might even persuade HAVA to lie low for a few weeks, until the investigation can be wrapped up.”

Ruban could practically see the gears turning in Unnati’s head. Was Ashwin lying? Telling a half-truth? If he couldn’t induce the Aeriel queen to orchestrate an attack, how much use would he be in preventing one, should the occasion arise? What exactly was his position in the court of Vaan? Was he content with it, or resentful of his sister for relegating him to a position of toothless diplomacy?

Ruban looked away, biting back a smile.

He didn’t blame Unnati for being skeptical of Ashwin. If anything, he was surprised she hadn’t yet tried to run him through with a reinforced sifblade.

Given the way Ashwin had arm-twisted her – along with the rest of the Cabinet – into this alliance with Vaan, Ruban had been prepared for the worst.

Ashwin had revealed himself to the highest echelons of the Vandran government soon after the clash at Reivaa’s castle last year. For the most part, he stuck to the script they’d penned together in Vaan, composed more of carefully-curated half-truths than outright lies.

He’d been sent to earth by his sister – to thwart Tauheen’s plan of stealing the reinforced sifblade formula and using it to attack Vaan, with her army of brainwashed human followers. He sought to work with Ruban, partly due to his reputation and partly because he’d wanted to acquaint himself with the workings of the Vandran government.

Ruban, of course, had never suspected Ashwin’s true identity. Nor had his partner, Simani, or any of the other Hunters at the South Ragah Division. Innocent as a herd of lambs, the lot of them.

How much of this convoluted fabrication the Cabinet had bought, Ruban didn’t know. If Unnati suspected anything amiss, she’d yet to share her misgivings with him.

But nobody in the regime – least of all the Chief Hunter or the Director of the IAW – wanted it to be known that the Aeriel Prince had infiltrated the ranks of the Hunter Corps (and befriended the most prominent Hunter in Ragah) without their knowledge. It’d be a huge blow to the credibility of both organizations, and given the current political climate, one they might never recover from.

Furthermore, despite the proclamations of certain rabble-rousing politicians, the Cabinet didn’t want war any more than Safaa did. And Ashwin had impressed upon his hosts that attacking or apprehending the Prince of Vaan might just be a one-way street to mutual annihilation.

So, with much reluctance, the Cabinet had agreed to a secret alliance between Vaan and Vandram, to be incrementally revealed to the public in the comfortably distant future.

And now, that future was here, sooner than any of them had anticipated.

Letting the querulous voices of the other attendees wash over him, Ruban closed his eyes. No matter which way this meeting went, the chain of events they’d set in motion couldn’t end in anything but disaster.