The grand hall of the royal palace glittered like a jewel under the soft glow of floating orbs that hovered near the vaulted ceiling, their light refracting through countless crystal chandeliers. The hum of conversation intertwined with the gentle strains of a string ensemble, creating a symphony of sound that filled the expansive space. Gowns of opulent fabrics shimmered as nobles twirled and dipped across the polished marble floor, their movements elegant and rehearsed. Silver and gold danced with deep blues and reds, a kaleidoscope of wealth and prestige parading in perfect synchronicity. The air was thick with the scent of fresh blooms imported from the outer provinces, mingling with the more subtle notes of spiced wines and honeyed pastries carried by attentive servants.

Elkianara stood near one of the towering windows, its intricate latticework framing the vibrant cityscape of Lurkibraski'vinumara beyond. The stars were beginning to peek through the deep violet sky, mirrored in the bay below. The city pulsed with its own quiet energy even at this late hour, a reminder of the world outside the palace walls that awaited her attention. Yet, here inside, the world seemed distant—wrapped in finery, gilded words, and carefully concealed intentions.

Her gaze swept across the hall, noting the clusters of nobles engaged in their verbal sparring, their every smile and laugh tinged with ulterior motives. She knew the game well, even if she hadn’t mastered it yet. To them, she was both a prize and a pawn—the daughter of an Empress and the potential future face of Umbralumara’s galactic aspirations. Her presence at Starlight Academy, should it come to pass, would be more than just a personal milestone. It would be a statement of their planet’s readiness to stand among the stars, to claim a place in the Galactic Council.

Elkianara’s chest tightened at the weight of it all, but she pushed the feeling aside, reminding herself of her duty. She smoothed the fabric of her deep crimson gown, the color chosen deliberately to reflect both her station and her resolve. The fine threads shimmered subtly with enchantments, catching the light with every shift in her posture. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and let her gaze fall on her mother, Empress Serkai, who stood at the center of the hall like the sun around which all else revolved.

Serkai was resplendent in a gown of molten gold, her presence commanding and unyielding. She moved through the crowd with the grace of a seasoned predator, every gesture measured, every word sharpened to perfection. Her blue eyes gleamed as she exchanged pleasantries with Ambassador Thorne, who stood at her side, his demeanor polished and affable.

Elkianara narrowed her eyes as she observed Thorne. The Ambassador was as charming as he was cunning, his words smooth and unassailable, each one calculated to probe for weakness or opportunity. He had spent the evening mingling with the nobles, his silver tongue weaving a web of subtle insinuations about the Council’s concerns for Umbralumara’s “stability.” Yet, despite his diplomatic veneer, Elkianara couldn’t shake the feeling that his presence was more invasive than it seemed—like a blade hidden beneath a velvet sheath.

“Princess Elkianara.” The deep, measured voice of Proctor Reenes drew her attention, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned to find the older man standing a respectful distance away, his sharp eyes appraising her with a mixture of curiosity and approval.

“Proctor Reenes,” she replied, offering a polite bow of her head. “I trust you’re enjoying the evening.”

“Ah, as much as a man of my station can,” he said, his tone dry but not unkind. “These events are a spectacle, to be sure, though I must confess my true interest lies elsewhere.” His gaze softened slightly, a rare flicker of warmth crossing his otherwise stern features. “Your journey to Starlight Academy will be transformative, Princess. Few are given the opportunity to learn from the galaxy’s finest minds. I am eager to see what you will accomplish.”

Elkianara felt a spark of excitement at his words, though she quickly masked it with a practiced smile. “Thank you, Proctor. I look forward to the challenge and to representing Umbralumara with distinction.”

“Spoken like a true scholar,” Reenes said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He seemed about to say more, but the nearby nobles, always attuned to opportunity, began to drift closer, their curiosity piqued by the mention of Starlight Academy.

One, a portly man with a gilded cloak, stepped forward, his voice loud enough to draw attention. “Proctor Reenes, I couldn’t help but overhear. Surely, the opportunity you’ve extended to the Princess could be extended to others of noble blood? My sons are quite gifted, I assure you.”

“Yes, surely our children deserve the same consideration,” another noblewoman added, her tone insistent. “It would only be fair.”

Reenes hesitated, glancing toward Thorne, who had turned his attention to the growing commotion. The Ambassador’s expression was carefully neutral, but Elkianara caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes as he stepped forward to address the group.

“My dear friends,” Thorne began smoothly, spreading his hands in a gesture of conciliation. “While the Council values the contributions of all its member worlds, Starlight Academy maintains strict protocols. Only those planets that have been formally inducted into the Council are permitted to send students for consideration. Her Highness’s inclusion is a special gesture, one made in good faith to strengthen our growing ties.”

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The nobles murmured amongst themselves, their dissatisfaction evident. Elkianara watched as Thorne skillfully redirected their frustration, his words laced with just enough empathy to pacify them without conceding anything of substance.

The conversation shifted again as Thorne turned his attention back to her. “Princess, a journey as significant as yours should not be undertaken alone. Perhaps it would be wise to consider a companion—someone to provide guidance and support during your time at the Academy. Surely there is no shortage of qualified candidates among Umbralumara’s most esteemed houses.”

Elkianara stiffened at his words, recognizing the subtle maneuver for what it was. He was steering the conversation toward his own agenda, though his true motives remained unclear.

Before she could respond, Proctor Reenes interjected, his voice thoughtful. “An intriguing suggestion, Ambassador. Perhaps someone with both experience and renown—a figure who could serve as both mentor and protector.”

The room fell silent for a moment, and then a voice from the crowd broke through. “What about Lucian Fairwood?”

Elkianara’s breath caught as the name echoed through the hall. She glanced at her mother, whose expression remained composed, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. Lucian Fairwood—her father’s closest friend, a man whose name had not been spoken in court for years.

“Yes,” Thorne said, his smile widening. “Duke Fairwood would be an excellent choice. His reputation precedes him, and his talents would undoubtedly be an asset to the Princess and the Academy alike.”

Serkai’s jaw tightened, but she nodded once, her voice steady. “I will send word to Duke Fairwood. However, his decision will be his own.”

Thorne inclined his head in feigned deference. “Of course, Your Majesty. I am certain he will see the wisdom in such an arrangement.”

Elkianara felt a chill settle over her as the conversation shifted once more, the name of Lucian Fairwood lingering in her mind like a shadow.

***

Later that night, the vibrant life of the palace dimmed to silence, the music and laughter from the ball fading into memory. The once-bustling hallways now stood quiet, lit only by the occasional flicker of enchanted lanterns casting their soft glow on tapestries and polished stone. Shadows pooled in the corners, undisturbed save for the soft shuffle of the night guards making their rounds.

Veridian Thorne walked with measured steps through one of the palace’s less-traveled corridors, his polished boots making no sound against the smooth floor. His affable smile from earlier had vanished, replaced by an expression of cool precision. His sharp eyes scanned his surroundings as he descended a narrow staircase that spiraled deep beneath the palace. The air grew cooler, the distant hum of the city above replaced by a low, mechanical thrum.

He stepped into a dimly lit chamber hidden in the depths of the palace’s hangar bay. The space was spartan, its stone walls unadorned except for the faint lines of circuitry embedded in their surface, pulsing faintly with power. A single courier ship, sleek and unassuming, rested at the center of the room. Its exterior was dark and matte, designed to vanish into the void of space without leaving a trace.

As Thorne approached, a concealed panel on the side of the ship slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a small alcove bathed in red light. Within, a team of five figures emerged, their forms almost unnatural in their stillness. They moved in perfect unison, stepping down from the alcove like shadows come to life.

The assassins were humanoid in shape but lacked the vitality of living beings. Their bodies were encased in black, chitinous armor that seemed to absorb the light around them, their faces hidden behind expressionless masks. Their movements were eerily silent, each step deliberate and precise. They carried no visible weapons, but the air around them seemed to hum with latent energy, a subtle reminder of their deadly purpose.

Thorne regarded them with cold detachment, his hands clasped behind his back. “You have your orders,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “A messenger will be sent to Lucian Fairwood at first light. You will intercept them before they reach the Shroud. Extract the Duke’s location and eliminate the messenger. Once you have the information, proceed to Fairwood Manor. Your objective is to eliminate Lucian Fairwood swiftly and without raising suspicion. No witnesses.”

The assassins gave no verbal response, their heads inclining ever so slightly in acknowledgment. They required no further instructions, no justification for their actions. They were tools, honed for a singular purpose, and Thorne wielded them with the precision of a master craftsman.

“One more thing,” Thorne added, his gaze narrowing. “Ensure that the attack cannot be traced back to the Council—or to me. Should you encounter complications, destroy any evidence and retreat. Failure is not an option.”

He stepped back as the assassins moved in unison toward the ship’s lower deck. They disappeared into its shadowed interior with fluid grace, their forms dissolving into the darkness as if they had never existed. The hatch closed behind them with a sharp hiss, and the ship’s engines hummed to life, the sound barely audible in the chamber’s dampened acoustics.

Thorne watched as the courier ship lifted off, its sleek form gliding silently through a concealed exit that led to the open sky. It vanished into the night, leaving no trace of its departure.

For a moment, Thorne stood alone in the chamber, the faint red glow of the alcove casting long shadows across his sharp features. His expression remained impassive, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Everything was proceeding according to plan.

He turned and ascended the staircase, his thoughts already shifting to the next move in his intricate game. The nobles had taken the bait, their petty ambitions and insecurities playing perfectly into his hands. Proctor Reenes, with his boundless enthusiasm for academic discovery, had been an unwitting accomplice, lending credibility to Thorne’s suggestion of Lucian Fairwood as Elkianara’s escort. Even Serkai, ever the unyielding Empress, had been forced to yield to the tide of pressure, her hand forced by the weight of politics.

As he emerged into the palace’s main corridor, Thorne’s demeanor shifted seamlessly back into the mask of the affable diplomat. A passing servant offered him a polite bow, which he returned with a warm smile, his steps unhurried and his posture relaxed. To the world, he was nothing more than a loyal servant of the Galactic Council, here to foster goodwill and cooperation.