Ren’s footsteps echoed softly as he moved down the long hall, each step swallowed by the vast space around him.

The high ceiling arched above like a cathedral, and the evening light streamed through the enormous stained glass windows, casting muted reds, golds, and greens onto the marble floor. His shadow stretched out in broken segments, distorted by the angled shafts of light, giving the impression of a man walking through fragments of time itself.

The walls, towering and ancient, were covered in intricate golden engravings—scenes that seemed to come alive in the shifting light. He traced the depictions with his eyes, mesmerized by the craftsmanship. There were the BeastFolk, fierce and proud, charging into battle on massive warhorses, their armor gleaming with etched runes of power. Their banners fluttered, frozen in mid-charge, as they met the stout ranks of Dwarves, who stood solid as a mountain, their weapons heavy and deadly.

A little further down, delicate fairies soared in graceful arcs, the tips of their wings dusted with shimmering gold that caught the sun's last rays. They danced around opulent Elven figures, bedecked in silks and jewels, their haughty expressions caught forever in the artist’s eye, frozen in a moment of laughter and song.

At the end of the hall, the humans were smaller, almost dwarfed by the grandiosity of the other races. They were depicted in humble, work-worn scenes—blacksmiths hammering iron into tools, farmers tilling fertile fields. There was no glory here, only toil, sweat, and effort. It was a stark contrast to the vivid, almost mythic portrayals of the other races, and the engravings seemed to reinforce a rigid hierarchy: the humans at the bottom, the others above.

A voice broke the silence—a smooth, amused tone that echoed down the hall like the distant chime of a bell.

Antony’s footsteps joined Ren’s, the two shadows blending in the fading light. He stopped beside Ren, his gaze fixed on the golden engravings, his eyes gleaming with an almost predatory interest.

“Unfair, isn’t it?” Antony’s lips twisted into a mocking smile. He gestured to the panels, his fingers brushing the air as if to take possession of the history they depicted. “This is the Pangean Manifesto, a grand display in each of the eight palaces. It shows how the five races coexist. Or rather, how they’re meant to coexist.” His voice was animated, almost gleeful, as if he were delighted by the unspoken divisions carved into the wall.

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

Ren’s gaze drifted back to the engravings.

He saw the subtle disdain in the faces of the elves, the ferocity of the BeastFolk, the stoic strength of the Dwarves, and the effortless grace of the fairies, all looking down upon the industrious humans below.

There was a clear message here—a declaration of place and power.

Ren turned to face Antony, his eyes thoughtful. “It is.” he said quietly, his voice steady as he met Antony’s gaze.

Outside, the light was beginning to fade, and the shadows in the hall deepened, creeping along the edges of the engravings like a gathering storm.

Antony’s smile was the kind that never quite reached his eyes, a mask that suggested warmth but hinted at something far colder beneath.

He moved with a practiced grace, his every gesture calculated, and his voice was smooth—too smooth, like a blade sheathed in velvet. Each word was carefully chosen, every inflection perfectly modulated, as if to keep his true intentions concealed behind a layer of pleasant cordiality.

“Lucius Antony, Majority Leader of the Senate,” he said, his tone silky and disarming. “It’s my pleasure to finally meet you, Ren Cannahy.”

He leaned ever so slightly into Ren’s name, his emphasis deliberate—a silent assertion that he did not acknowledge the title of king that Hazel had bestowed upon Ren through their publicized marriage. It was a subtle rebuke, a veiled challenge, cloaked in the guise of polite formality.

“Antony,” Ren replied, matching the lack of title with his own pointed familiarity. “I want us to work well together.” His expression was calm, his eyes sharp and steady as he watched for a reaction.

Antony’s smile widened, and he opened his arms, pulling Ren into an unexpected embrace. The hug was warm, even affectionate, and he gave a firm pat on Ren’s back, the gesture almost fatherly.But there was a coldness to the touch, a sense of something being withheld.

Ren’s body went rigid, his patience thinning as he stepped back, brushing Antony’s hands away.

“Then why are my officers being denied access to the financial records of the country?” Ren’s voice was steady, but there was a flicker of anger in his eyes.

The request had been straightforward, his demand to see the country’s ledgers a necessary step to assess the rot of corruption that had spread through the government. His reforms would be meaningless without cutting out that cancer first.