The execution of Ser Dwayne Cliffmond had already become yesterday's tale, but the weight of it still lingered in the palace air like a stubborn shadow. The people outside cheered for justice; inside the marble walls, however, the game was far from over.
Three days later, the great council chamber stirred with heavy voices. The long oak table was crowded with the kingdom's highest officials—treasury masters, trade ministers, generals, advisors, and at the head, King Alexander himself. Tapestries lined the walls, their woven lions seeming to watch as judgment unfolded not with blades, but with words.
Edward, the king's right hand and ever-patient butler, stood just behind him with a scroll.
"Order," declared the King, his voice carrying across the room. "We gather today not only to acknowledge Ser Dwayne's treason, but to resolve what his theft has left behind. Our treasury bleeds. We must decide how to restore it."
The Treasury Minister, a round man with sweat constantly glistening on his forehead, spoke first. "Your Majesty, records suggest that more than a quarter of the royal treasury was siphoned over the years. Gold vanished under his seal. Lands were taxed yet never reported. Merchants bribed, papers forged—he left holes everywhere."
A wave of muttering filled the chamber.
Another voice rose, stern and sharp—the Minister of Defense. "This is not just theft, this is weakness. Word of the lost gold will spread to other kingdoms. Enemies will think us vulnerable. We need swift measures."
The King raised a hand, silencing them. "Then speak of solutions, not only problems."
The Trade Minister leaned forward. "If we enforce stricter tariffs on incoming caravans, we may recover some of the loss—"
But the General cut him off. "Tariffs? That will choke our merchants and anger the guilds. We'd be trading one fire for another."
Edward's calm voice entered the storm. "Perhaps redistribution. Take what Dwayne hoarded, seize his estates, reclaim his hidden accounts. It will not restore everything, but it will show the crown's hand is firm."
The room murmured again, but this time in agreement.
Then a younger official, eager but naive, raised the harder question. "And the empty seat, Your Majesty? The position of Royal Envoy cannot remain vacant. Who shall replace him?"
The chamber grew silent. Every eye slid toward the king.
Alexander leaned back, fingers tapping the arm of his chair. "The Royal Envoy was meant to be my voice beyond these walls. A man trusted to carry words that could start wars or end them. Tell me—" he glanced slowly across the table "—who among you would dare claim such a weight now?"
Nobody spoke. The silence was telling enough.
At last, Edward stepped forward again. "It may not be wise to rush, Your Majesty. The wrong replacement may invite the same rot. Perhaps it is better to leave the seat vacant, until the right man—or woman—proves worthy."
Alexander nodded. "Then so it shall be. Dwayne's shadow will not be replaced by another too soon. The court is dismissed."
---
An hour later, the council chamber was empty, its echoes fading. The King walked the halls with Edward at his side, both in quiet thought.
Alexander finally broke the silence. "They speak of gold and positions as if those were the true threats. But rot does not end just because you cut off one head."
Edward smirked faintly. "That's the curse of power, Your Majesty. The higher the crown, the heavier the lies that climb after it."
Alexander gave a short laugh, then fell silent again. His mind wandered until one name slipped from his lips almost unconsciously. "Kairus."
Edward glanced at him. "The Fifth Prince?"
"Yes." The King's voice softened, something rare for him. "I keep turning it over in my head. How did he find the truth? He's ten. Ten."
Edward didn't hesitate. "Because he is not like the others, sire. Forgive my honesty, but none of your other children see beyond the surface. Kairus does. When I followed his steps during the investigation, I saw it myself. The boy doesn't simply listen—he collects. He weaves whispers into patterns no one else sees."
The King raised an eyebrow. "Patterns?"
Edward nodded. "He heard the gossip of maids, the mutterings of guards, even the slips of merchants. To most, it's meaningless noise. To him? A map. He traced it back to Dwayne with such precision I had to double-check the work myself."
Alexander slowed his steps, intrigued. "And you think he's a genius?"
"More than that," Edward replied, his tone firm. "Of all your heirs, only he carries your wit, Your Majesty. The cunning, the instinct, the hunger to understand. Kairus is you, reborn younger. If not sharper."
The King smirked, a rare and dangerous curve of his lips. "Then perhaps the lion's blood is not thinned after all."
Edward bowed slightly. "It is only the beginning. Watch him closely. The Fifth Prince will be one to reckon with."
Alexander said nothing, but the smirk remained as they entered his chambers.
---
A week later, the palace was quieter. The storm of Dwayne's betrayal was fading, though rumors still scurried through the halls like restless mice.
Elizabeth and her son prepared to leave. Their carriage waited outside the marble gates, its polished wood gleaming in the morning light. Servants loaded the last of their belongings as Elizabeth checked everything twice over, motherly instinct in full force.
"Kairus, come along," she said, tugging gently at his sleeve.
Eustass—still Kairus to all eyes—looked up at the towering palace one last time. His expression was calm, unreadable. Inside his mind, though, he replayed every move that had been made, every mask that had cracked. The game board was changing, and he was at the center.
As they stepped toward the carriage, a voice rang from behind. "Leaving already?"
They turned. King Alexander emerged from the palace doors, dressed not in robes of state but a simpler cloak, though his presence was no less commanding.
Elizabeth bowed her head respectfully. "Your Majesty."
The King's eyes softened as he approached. "Both of you—take care. Do not vanish into your mansion for too long. Visit me again. This palace is not the same without your light."
Elizabeth smiled faintly. "We will, Alexander."
Then his gaze shifted downward, to the boy. For once, he did not speak as a king, but as a father. He placed a heavy hand on Kairus's head, tapping it lightly.
"Always protect your mother," he said. His voice was steady, but the weight in it was unmistakable. "Just as you always have."
Eustass met his father's eyes. There was no fear, no hesitation. Only a quiet conviction. "I will."
For a moment, King and son simply stared at each other. No court, no masks, just blood that somehow recognized itself.
Then Elizabeth stepped forward, and Alexander's expression softened further. He embraced her warmly, holding her with a tenderness few ever witnessed. "Stay safe," he whispered.
"You too," she answered, her voice barely above breath.
They pulled away, and Elizabeth climbed into the carriage. Kairus followed, giving one last glance at the palace gates. The lions carved into the stone almost seemed to watch him leave.
The driver snapped the reins, and the carriage rolled forward.
Inside, Elizabeth adjusted her son's cloak and sighed in relief. "It feels good to go home, doesn't it?"
Kairus looked out the window, his reflection mixing with the passing scenery. His lips curled into the faintest smirk.
"Home," he murmured. "Yeah… for now."