Aetherion's gaze hardened, any trace of hesitation vanishing from his eyes.
"Then in that case," he said clearly, voice steady despite the bars between them, "we must ensure that both Chiron and the king die tomorrow."
The Regent met his eyes for a long moment… then nodded.
Aetherion continued, lowering his voice. "How many of my brothers remain loyal?"
The Regent answered without pause. "Enough. I can gather them. Not just the princes, but the nobles as well—houses across the kingdom that have not yet truly bent the knee to Silmarien. They are watching. Waiting."
Aetherion gave a slow nod.
"Good," he said. "Then make sure they are ready."
The two spoke in hushed tones after that—of timing, of signals, of how chaos could be turned into opportunity. When all that needed to be said had been said, the Regent pulled his hood back over his face and turned to leave.
He did not notice the floor behind him darken.
