Lysander found the palace corridors unnervingly quiet the next morning. There was always an undercurrent of sound in the castle—the murmur of courtiers, the soft tread of servants, the distant clang of training swords—but today, it felt stifling. The silence gnawed at him, unsettling the carefully constructed calm he wore as naturally as the fine silks on his back.

He knew it wasn’t paranoia. Something had shifted.

As he descended the grand staircase into the main hall, Lysander noticed the subtle changes first: fewer servants bustling about, fewer nobles idling in conversation. The grand tapestries on the walls seemed to loom larger than usual, their depictions of battles and royal victories casting long shadows that seemed to stretch unnaturally in the early morning light.

And then there was the tension. It clung to the air like mist—thick, oppressive, impossible to ignore.

“Lysander.”

His heart leaped before his mind recognized the voice. Valen stood at the foot of the stairs, a languid smile curving his lips. Dressed in a deep crimson robe, his older brother looked every bit the part of a future king. Or at least, someone who desperately wanted to look the part.

“Good morning, brother,” Lysander replied evenly, sliding effortlessly into his usual mask of indifference. “You’re up early. Couldn’t sleep?”

Valen’s smile widened, though his eyes remained sharp, calculating. “Quite the opposite. I’ve had a rather restful night. And you? You look as if you’ve been prowling the corridors again, scheming as usual.”

Lysander chuckled, giving Valen the reaction he wanted. “If by scheming you mean studying. I’ve always found the palace at night offers… perspectives one cannot see in the daylight.”

“I’m sure it does.” Valen’s gaze flicked to something behind Lysander, just for a moment, before returning. “Father’s summoned us.”

This was unexpected. Lysander’s pulse quickened, though he kept his expression calm. “All of us?”

Valen nodded, his tone almost casual. “He’s called a council meeting. It seems something important is afoot.”

The word ‘important’ hung in the air between them, weighted with implication. Lysander’s mind raced. Was this connected to Valen’s schemes? Had something shifted overnight? Or was this simply another move in the intricate dance they had been performing for years?

Lysander nodded, allowing a faint smile. “Then we mustn’t keep him waiting.”

Together, they made their way to the council chamber, where the rest of their family was already gathered. The room was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn across the windows, casting a somber mood. The council chamber was large, with an imposing wooden table at its center, around which sat the King’s advisors and key nobles. At the head of the table sat their father, King Reginald, his face drawn with the weight of leadership. To his right was Sibel, who, as always, looked impeccably composed. But there was a tightness around her eyes, a rigidness in the set of her shoulders.

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The King’s eyes landed on Lysander and Valen as they entered, his gaze lingering on them for a moment too long. Lysander felt the scrutiny, but he gave nothing away, bowing deeply in respect.

“Father,” Valen said smoothly, “you summoned us.”

The King nodded, gesturing for them to sit. Once everyone was settled, he cleared his throat, his voice grave. “There have been… troubling reports from the eastern border.”

A murmur swept through the room. Lysander felt a flicker of interest. The eastern border? That was far from the capital, far from the politics of succession. What could possibly—

“The Kurogane clan has begun to mobilize,” the King continued, his gaze hardening. “They’ve broken their peace agreements and are gathering forces. War is on the horizon.”

The weight of his words settled over the room like a shroud. Lysander leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. The Kurogane clan… a rival faction with deep roots in the kingdom’s history. They had been quiet for years, biding their time. Why now? Why make such a bold move?

“The council will convene later to discuss our response,” the King said, his voice heavy with authority. “But I wanted you all to hear this from me first. This will affect the entire kingdom.”

There was a pause, then Valen leaned forward slightly, his expression measured. “Does this mean the succession trial will be delayed?”

Lysander hid a smile. There it was—the first crack in Valen’s mask. His brother was confident, yes, but not so much that he was willing to let something like war interfere with his ambitions.

The King’s gaze hardened. “No. The trial will proceed as planned. We cannot afford to show weakness, especially now. The people need to see that the kingdom is strong, that there will be a worthy successor to lead them.”

Valen’s jaw tightened, though he quickly masked it with a nod. “Of course, Father.”

Sibel, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. “What are our options regarding the Kurogane? Can we negotiate?”

The King sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “We’ve sent envoys, but I fear they’ll be met with steel. They’ve made their intentions clear.”

“And what of the other noble houses?” Lysander asked, his voice calm and measured. “Will they stand with us?”

“Some will,” the King replied, his tone dark. “But there are those who would use this as an opportunity to advance their own interests. Not all are as loyal as they claim.”

Lysander nodded thoughtfully. There was opportunity in this chaos. If the noble houses were divided, it would create cracks in the foundation of the kingdom. Cracks that someone clever enough—someone like him—could exploit.

The meeting dragged on, with the King discussing military strategies and political alliances, but Lysander’s mind was already elsewhere. War with the Kurogane. A fractured court. Nobles vying for power. This was the perfect storm, and he was going to use it to his advantage.

As the meeting came to a close, the King dismissed them, his expression weary. “Prepare yourselves. The days ahead will be challenging. But we will endure. We must.”

Lysander rose from his seat, bowing once more. As he turned to leave, he caught Sibel’s gaze. She was watching him, her expression unreadable. They held each other’s stare for a moment before she turned away, her brow furrowed in thought.

As Lysander stepped out into the corridor, Valen was already several paces ahead, his stride purposeful. Lysander quickened his pace, falling in step beside him.

“Interesting news,” Lysander said, keeping his tone light.

Valen didn’t respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight. “The Kurogane are a nuisance, nothing more. We’ll crush them like the vermin they are.”

Lysander smiled faintly. “Of course. But even vermin can bite if they’re cornered.”

Valen shot him a sharp glance but said nothing. Lysander couldn’t help but enjoy the subtle tension that had crept into his brother’s posture. Valen was a master of confidence, but even he couldn’t mask his frustration entirely.

They reached the end of the corridor, where their paths would diverge. Valen hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Don’t think this changes anything between us, Lysander.”

Lysander raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Without another word, Valen turned and strode away, leaving Lysander alone in the hallway.

As the sound of his brother’s footsteps faded, Lysander allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. The pieces were moving, and soon the board would be his to control. War, betrayal, ambition—it was all falling into place.

And Lysander was ready to play his part.