As Xemena and Xander strolled back toward the throne room, the younger of the two spoke with a smirk that carried a hint of mischief. “Have you seen little brother?” she asked. Xander, calm and measured as always, shook his head. “No.”

Xemena’s tone turned playful, but it was laced with an edge. “It’s unusual for him to miss… any kind of buffet.” Her lips curled into a sharper smile. “Perhaps Father’s punishment struck him harder than we thought.” She chuckled, the sound unkind.

Xander remained silent, but her words lingered in his thoughts. As they neared the throne room, they were joined by other vassals and guests, the halls bustling with activity. Two court assistants stationed at the open gates seemed busy keeping meticulous records of who had returned, ensuring none were absent before the king reconvened the meeting.

Meanwhile, Xhiva was making his way back to the castle, his massive frame drenched in sweat. Beads of it glistened on his forehead as he jogged with surprising urgency. The spell cast by the Zairulian soldier had left his memory fragmented, but some instincts remained intact. One rule was clear: he would return the same way he had left. Approaching a small storage shed outside the castle, he lifted the hatch that concealed the underground passage and disappeared into its depths.

Inside the grand hall, King Xerxes approached one of the court assistants by the entrance. His voice was as commanding as ever. “Has everyone returned?”

The assistant bowed slightly before replying, “Not yet, my king. We’re still missing Prince Xhiva.”

Nearby, Xemena’s sharp ears caught the conversation. She sauntered over, Xander trailing behind her. “Perhaps the shame of wandering naked wounded him more than we thought,” she remarked with a smirk. Her gaze flicked toward Xander. “Brother, how about you fetch him?”

Xander’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Wouldn’t that make me late to the meeting as well?”

Xemena leaned lazily against the wall, crossing her arms. “Perhaps, but if Father punishes you, it’s no great loss. You’ve already grown quite accustomed to strolling around the castle without clothes.” Her smirk widened, victorious.

“She’s right,” King Xerxes interjected, his tone final. “Do as your sister says.” Without waiting for a reply, the king turned on his heel and strode into the throne room, heading toward the fearsome throne of a thousand crowns.

Xemena pushed off the wall, flicking her long dark hair over her shoulder. “You’d better make this quick,” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eye, before following their father into the throne room.

Xander sighed in resignation. He moved toward Xhiva’s chambers, his steps measured, his expression unreadable. When he arrived, he swung open the door and called out, “Brother, it’s time for the meeting!”

The room, however, greeted him with silence—and chaos. A smashed mirror lay in jagged shards across the floor. Drawers hung open as if something ravenous had rummaged through them, and clothes were strewn everywhere like remnants of a storm.

Xander frowned, stepping cautiously inside. “Xhiva?” he called again. “Are you here?”

The uneasy silence weighed heavy, but it was soon shattered by gasping breaths and the thunderous sound of hurried footsteps. Xhiva barreled into the room, his enormous frame heaving, his forehead slick with sweat.

Xander turned to face him, one brow arched. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Xhiva, still catching his breath, waved a dismissive hand. “Brother,” he gasped, “if you had any sense of class, you’d recognize this as fashion.” He collapsed onto the floor, unbuttoning his coat to give himself room to breathe. “Is the buffet still open?” he asked, his voice heavy with desperation.

“No,” Xander replied matter-of-factly. “It closed when we were summoned back to the meeting.”

Xhiva groaned, his frustration palpable. “Curse these short breaks! How am I supposed to focus during a meeting if I’m starving?”

Xander exhaled, his patience thinning. “We can take a detour through the kitchen.” He sat down beside his brother, surveying the disarray in the room. “Did you have an outburst after Father’s punishment?”

Xhiva looked at him, puzzled. “What punishment?”

Xander allowed himself a small smile. “Father made you walk back to your chambers without... conventional means.”

Xhiva scoffed, his tone dismissive. “I don’t remember anything like that.”

Rising to his feet, Xander extended a hand toward his brother. “Perhaps it’s best we both let that memory go.”

Xhiva shook his head and refused the offer, stubborn as ever. With effort, he pushed himself up to his feet. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, brushing himself off.

Xander nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips as the two brothers prepared to face their father—and whatever else awaited them in the throne room.

As they made their way toward the throne room, they took a detour to the royal kitchen. It wasn’t long before the staff handed Xhiva a bag brimming with various delicacies, as though his preferences had been pre-written on a menu. “Brother,” Xhiva began as they resumed their walk, his tone casual, “what’s your favorite food?”

Xander mulled it over seriously, his gaze thoughtful. “If I had to choose… perhaps fruit. Apples, specifically.”

Xhiva balked at the suggestion. “That’s not real food, that’s just fruit!”

Xander’s lips curled into a smile. “And where, exactly, do you draw the line?”

“Real food is something crafted by people—something exclusive,” Xhiva insisted with a wave of his hand. “Worthy of royalty, not… fallen scraps from trees for pigs and peasants to chew on.”

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Xander chuckled and scratched his chin in mock contemplation. “Well, if I had to pick something made, I rather enjoyed that scone Niles baked during the contest.”

Xhiva sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “You might be older than me, brother, but your palate is still in its infancy. Someday, I’ll introduce you to the true heights of culinary excellence!” His face lit up with anticipation, as if already savoring the future feasts.

As they neared the entrance, they noticed Commander Dragon engaged in conversation with a court assistant. “Have any of you seen Lion?” she asked, her sharp eyes scanning the room.

The assistant shook his head. “No, my lady. He hasn’t been seen since morning.”

Dragon frowned, her mind clearly calculating. But when her gaze fell on the approaching princes, she offered a courteous nod and stepped aside to let them pass into the throne room.

King Xerxes’s voice echoed through the grand chamber as soon as he saw them. “Ah, so my son finally deigns to join us.” His tone was sharp but laced with exhaustion. “Since you’ve graced us with your presence, Xhiva, you’re next.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, Xerxes leaned forward, his glowing gaze bearing down on his son. “Do you know anything about the missing holy crystal?”

Xhiva, still catching his breath from his hurried arrival, shook his head. “No, Father, I do not.”

The king studied him intently for a moment, his piercing skill ensuring there was no falsehood in the response. He exhaled heavily. “I already knew that,” he muttered, leaning back in his throne. “What a waste of time.”

Dragon stepped forward, bowing slightly. “My king, I must report that one of my soldiers, Lion, is missing as well. He hasn’t been seen all day.”

The king’s attention shifted sharply to her. “Do you believe he could have taken the holy crystal?”

“No, my liege,” Dragon replied firmly. “Lion is loyal to the crown. I suspect his pride was wounded after being denied the honor of reaping the experience points from the injured soldier. He was close to leveling up and might’ve sought solitude.”

Once again, the king used his skill, his piercing gaze confirming her truthfulness. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This only confirms what I’ve already suspected.” Rising from the throne, his tone grew heavier. “No one here knows anything about the missing holy crystal. That leaves only one possibility: today’s chaos was orchestrated to allow Niles, the exiled summoned jester, to steal it under our noses.”

He descended the steps of the throne, his scarlet cape trailing behind him. As he reached Dragon, he lowered his voice to a chilling whisper. “Find him. Bring him back. Failure will not be tolerated.”

Dragon bowed. “As you command, my liege.”

Turning to the gathered court, the king’s voice boomed anew. “This meeting is over. You may all leave.”

As the crowd began to disperse, Xerxes’s attention returned to Xhiva. “Don’t be late again,” he warned. “I’ve already punished you once.”

Xhiva tilted his head, confusion flashing across his face. “Punished me? I don’t recall any punishment.”

The king paused, his scarlet eyes narrowing as he studied his son. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “No lie? Hah. Then you see it as an honor, do you?”

Xhiva bowed respectfully. “Every command from you, Father, is an honor.”

The king nodded once before striding away, his presence looming even in retreat.

Xander, however, froze in place, his eyes wide as they locked onto Xhiva. His expression darkened, suspicion seeping into every line of his face. “Xhiva,” he called, his tone quiet but unnervingly sharp.

“What is it, brother? Let’s leave with the others,” Xhiva said, already waddling toward the exit.

Before he could escape, Xander grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. “Brother?” Xhiva stammered, startled by the sudden force.

Xander’s gaze bore into him, unreadable and cold. At that moment, Xemena, who had lingered behind, opened her mouth to speak, but Xander’s commanding voice cut through the air like a blade. “LEAVE US.”

The sheer authority in his tone made even Xemena flinch. Without a word of protest, she stepped back, ensuring the doors closed behind her as she exited the room.

Now alone, the two brothers stood in the vast throne room, the starlight filtering through the stained glass casting fractured colors across the marble floor.

“Brother?” Xhiva’s voice came again, quieter this time, trembling.

Xander took a slow step closer, his tone calm but unyielding as stone. “Who are you?”

“What do you mean? I’m me—Xhiva, your brother!” Xhiva’s voice cracked, desperation clear in his tone.

“Answer me!” Xander barked, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. The metallic click of the blade being partially drawn sent a chill through the room.

“What do you mean?” Xhiva repeated, his face growing pale.

Xander’s patience snapped as he fully unsheathed the blade, the cold steel now hovering dangerously near Xhiva’s neck. “Then how did you do it?”

“Do what?” Xhiva stammered, his confusion genuine—or so it seemed.

“Just now.” Xander’s voice was low and sharp, a blade of its own. “You lied to Father, and his skill didn’t activate. That’s never happened before—except once.” He paused, swallowing hard as his scarlet eyes locked onto Xhiva’s. “During the attack at the ball the other night.”

A heavy silence draped over the room like a burial shroud, the air so still it felt as though the walls themselves were holding their breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Xhiva protested, attempting to sound firm. But his trembling voice betrayed him.

Xander pressed the blade closer, the cold metal brushing against Xhiva’s neck. “I’ll only say this once: don’t dance around my question. What kind of punishment did you receive from Father earlier tonight?”

Xhiva froze, his lips parting but no words escaping.

“You don’t remember?” Xander pressed, his gaze unwavering. When Xhiva finally met his eyes, Xander’s tone shifted, sharper and more precise. “Or is it that you can’t remember?”

“Please…” Xhiva whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Where were you earlier?” Xander continued, circling him like a predator. “You weren’t in your chambers. You were dressed for the outdoors, sweaty, and gasping for air like you’d been running.” He paused, his lips curling into a knowing frown. “And you never run.”

Xhiva’s breathing quickened. “Please, just leave me alone.”

Xander ignored his plea and stopped in front of him. “What do you know about the missing crystal?”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Xhiva said, shaking his head vigorously. “I swear.”

Xander’s patience thinned further, his expression darkening. “Should I bring Father here to question you again?”

Xhiva’s mind raced, panic flashing across his face. He lowered his voice, his words slipping out like a confession, seeking a way out. “There’s a girl.”

Xander hesitated, lowering his blade slightly but keeping it at the ready. “Go on,” he said, his tone expectant.

Xhiva let out a theatrical sigh and reached into his pocket, producing the folded letter. “She’s not of royal blood,” he admitted, holding the letter up.

Xander sheathed his sword in a swift motion and snatched the letter from Xhiva’s hand, unfolding it with practiced efficiency. His eyes scanned the page. “An address,” he muttered, his brows furrowing. “It’s quite far from the capital.”

Xhiva dropped his composure entirely, speaking in a rush. “I’ve fallen in love with her. That address is where we’re supposed to meet next.” His voice softened, carrying a note of defeat. “You can ask Father if you don’t believe my words.”

Xander exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “You’re my brother,” he said, his tone quieter now but still firm. He thrust the letter back into Xhiva’s hands with deliberate force, a mix of worry and warning in the gesture. “I don’t need Father’s skill to know when you’re lying—or when you’re telling the truth.”

Turning toward the door, Xander added without looking back, “Be careful. Father doesn’t approve of relationships that don’t serve the empire.”

Xhiva watched his older brother’s retreating figure and called after him, his voice steadier now. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, brother.”

A small smile broke across Xhivas lips as Xander made his way out. “That was close” he whispered to himself, his eyes following Xander, “brother”.