The Governor’s Hall was a monument to Aether’s philosophy—immaculate, imposing, devoid of excess. Towering walls of polished black stone stretched upward, seamless and smooth, as if carved from a single piece of the earth itself. Voluran sconces flickered with a soft, sterile light, illuminating the cavernous chamber with an ethereal blue hue.

At the center of the room, beneath an intricately woven mana lattice that pulsed faintly above them, sat the Council of Governors. A semicircle of high-backed chairs framed a single elevated throne, its occupant shrouded in the depths of the hall’s dim glow.

The Governor—the unseen ruler of Aether—sat in silence, their presence almost spectral. They spoke when necessary. They commanded when required.

And now, they were listening.

Prin Keli sat with one leg crossed over the other, his hands folded neatly in his lap. His blond hair was slicked back, not a strand out of place, his fitted navy-blue suit carrying not a single wrinkle. The very image of an Aethan statesman. Poised. Calculated. Dangerous.

Opposite him, Skarlett Abetha sat with her arms loosely folded, her imperial cape draped over one shoulder. The battle-grade military tunic she wore made her presence unmistakable—a constant reminder of Aether’s militant grip. The scarlet trim along her sleeves matched her name, a deliberate signature of her status among the Dark Six.

Between them, several other governors occupied their seats, their expressions ranging from indifferent to mildly engaged. They had been called to discuss the affairs of the state, but most already knew what the Governor’s priorities would be.

It was merely a formality.

A low chime echoed through the hall. The meeting had begun.

The Governor’s voice drifted through the air, slow and deliberate. Their tone was neither deep nor high, neither warm nor cold—only precise.

"The immigrant crisis is worsening."

A quiet murmur passed through the room.

Skarlett shifted slightly. “If you can call them immigrants.” Her voice was smooth, unfazed, carrying a measured weight. “Refugees would be a more accurate term.”

Prin’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “A word soaked in unnecessary sympathy.”

Skarlett tilted her head. “Only if one has sympathy to give.”

The smirk on Prin’s lips remained, but his eyes sharpened. He turned his attention back to the Governor.

"The numbers?" he asked, his tone all business.

One of the logisticians—a thin, bespectacled man standing at the edge of the room—cleared his throat. He adjusted the data-slate in his hands before speaking.

"As of last census, two hundred and eighty thousand non-citizens reside within Aether’s borders. The largest concentration remains in Millinggarde West, where integration programs have proven... difficult."

Prin hummed in amusement. “Difficult? You mean unsuccessful.”

The logistician hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, Minister Keli.”

Aether’s conquest had turned Millinggarde into an extension of its empire, but not all its people had folded into submission. The resistance still lingered, buried within the cracks of the conquered nation. Some bent. Others broke. But a few… refused.

Prin leaned forward, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. “And how many have been converted to Honorary Aethan status?”

The logistician glanced at his notes. “Roughly thirty thousand. A small fraction, given the population.”

Prin exhaled through his nose. “Then we must expedite the process. The Honorary Aethan Initiative was designed to assimilate the willing, yet progress remains sluggish. We need incentives. Or stronger deterrents.”

Skarlett’s gaze flicked toward him. “And by deterrents, you mean force.”

Prin’s smirk returned. “Are they so different?”

A silence passed between them. It wasn’t hostile—they both understood the game being played.

The Governor finally spoke again.

"The Aethan Identification Program is to be expanded."

All eyes turned toward the throne. The air in the room seemed to tighten, as if bracing for an unspoken decree.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"The production of Aethan identification chips will increase. Distribution will be mandatory for all non-citizens within Aether's borders. Every immigrant, refugee, and foreign-born worker will be embedded."

A ripple of reaction passed through the council. None objected outright, but some shifted in their seats. Even Aether’s lawmakers had their limits.

Prin, however, merely smiled.

"A bold initiative, Governor," he mused, feigning admiration. "Tracking and regulating movement with precision. No more undocumented strays. No more resistance hiding in shadows."

Skarlett tapped her fingers against the armrest of her chair. "And what of those who refuse?"

The Governor's voice remained impassive.

"They will not refuse."

The words sent a quiet chill through the room.

Prin was the first to respond, a chuckle escaping him. “Of course.”

Skarlett, however, remained still.

The Aethan chips were not mere trackers. They were permanent. Embedded deep into the flesh, directly linked to the city’s mana-grid. They could restrict access, enforce compliance, control movement.

It was an elegant form of dominance.

Skarlett finally exhaled. “This will be met with resistance.”

The Governor did not respond immediately.

Then, slowly—"That is why we will not ask. We will command."

Silence.

Prin grinned. “How very Aethan of us.”

Another chime rang through the hall, signaling a transition in topics. The air remained heavy as the conversation shifted.

The Adelpha Delegation.

Skarlett straightened. “The delegation is expected to arrive within the week. We will receive them at Clearwater District.”

Prin’s smile thinned slightly. “I still find it amusing that we tolerate them.”

Skarlett glanced at him. “Diplomacy is a weapon, same as any other.”

Prin hummed. “And what do we gain from these peace-mongers?”

“Their neutrality,” Skarlett said simply.

Prin rolled his eyes, but said nothing further.

The Governor’s voice returned.

"Adelpha’s presence must be handled carefully. They will observe. They will report. We will ensure they see nothing but order."

A simple command. And in Aether, commands were absolute.

Prin tapped his fingers against the polished table. “Then we will give them a show.”

Another chime. The meeting was drawing to a close.

The Governor remained still. Their presence alone dictated the finality of their words.

No name. No face. Only power.

As the governors began rising from their seats, exchanging quiet remarks, Skarlett stole one last glance at the unseen ruler.

There was something about the way they spoke.

Something that sent a whisper of unease down even her spine.

As the governors began filing out of the hall, Skarlett remained seated, watching the dimly lit throne. The Governor had not moved—not that she expected them to. No one had ever seen them move. They spoke, they commanded, and Aether obeyed.

Prin Keli adjusted the cuffs of his suit as he passed by her. “You look troubled, Lady Abetha,” he murmured, his tone smooth, teasing. “Surely you’re not questioning the Governor’s decree?”

Skarlett’s piercing blue eyes flicked toward him, unreadable. “I don’t question orders. I evaluate them.”

Prin chuckled. “Ah, the ever-dutiful soldier. But tell me—what do you make of our dear Governor’s latest initiative?”

She exhaled slowly. “I think mass production of Aethan chips will turn the immigrants into walking ledgers rather than people.”

Prin raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Skarlett’s fingers drummed against the steel armrest. “And people who have nothing to lose tend to fight the hardest.”

Prin smirked. “How poetic. But unnecessary.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Aether does not fear a scattered, broken people. We turn rebels into citizens. And those who resist?” His smirk deepened. “They disappear.”

Skarlett remained silent for a long moment before rising from her seat. She adjusted the Toledo-shaped blade at her hip—a relic from older wars, from a time when battles were fought with steel rather than policy.

Prin straightened as well. “Are you attending the reception for the Adelpha delegates?”

“I’ll be overseeing security.”

“Of course.” Prin smirked, as if amused by his own question. “And what of the dear Governor? Will they grace us with their presence?”

Skarlett’s jaw tightened slightly. “The Governor does not attend frivolities.”

“Pity.” Prin adjusted his lapel. “They remain such a mystery. It must be lonely, ruling from the shadows.”

Skarlett did not answer.

Prin turned on his heel, stepping toward the exit. “I shall see you at Clearwater, then,” he called over his shoulder. “Try not to be too dour, Lady Abetha. Diplomacy requires charm, after all.”

Skarlett watched him go before turning back toward the throne. The Governor had not moved, had not acknowledged their exchange.

But they had heard. They always heard.

Skarlett dipped her head in a silent gesture of acknowledgment before striding toward the doors herself.

The Honorary Aethan Initiative.The mass embedding of chips.The Adelpha delegation.

It was all happening at once.

The machine of Aether was moving forward, as it always did. And the world would either fall in line—or be crushed beneath its weight.