The air in the courtroom grew heavy as Regina's offer hung in the silence. The idea of living shadows acting as the eyes and ears of the Empire was both a tactical dream and a political nightmare.
"I offer you the invisible," Regina continued, her voice cutting through the tension. "My shadows move where your spies cannot. They do not eat, they do not sleep, and they cannot be bribed by gold or flesh."
A low murmur rippled through the rows of seated nobles. Viscount Leopold Starling, a man known for his skepticism and his vast network of traditional informants, stood up with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.
"A bold claim, Sovereign," Leopold remarked, adjusting his silk cravat. "But the Empire does not trade seats of power for ghost stories. If your shadows are as useful as you claim, perhaps you should display their worth here and now."
Draven watched from his father's side, his chest tightening. Beside him, Eliosa leaned forward, her eyes narrowed with a desperate hope that this mysterious woman had finally overplayed her hand.
They were both waiting for her confidence to falter. They expected her to hesitate, to offer excuses, or to fail the test in front of the highest court in the land.
Regina did none of those things. She did not even turn to look at the Viscount. Instead, she raised her hand and snapped her fingers once—a sharp, crisp sound that echoed like a whip-crack against the marble.
The shadows beneath the massive mahogany council table suddenly surged. They pooled together, swirling into a thick, ink-like vortex that chilled the feet of every noble sitting nearby.
From the darkness, three amorphous figures rose. They were holding a massive pile of leather-bound documents and sealed scrolls, their forms flickering like candlelight in a storm.
With a coordinated, silent grace, the shadows placed the documents on the table directly in front of King Maltherion. The parchment looked aged, stamped with seals that made the Minister of Intelligence turn ashen.
"Check the contents, Viscount," Regina said softly. "I believe you will find the ink is still fresh on the treason of your neighbors."
The King reached out, his trembling fingers breaking the wax seal of the top scroll. As he read, his eyes widened, and his grip on the paper tightened until the edges crinkled.
The nobles crowded around, their skepticism turning into a frantic, suffocating dread. The documents contained discreet information about rival nations—their troop movements, their hidden grain reserves, and the specific weaknesses of their fortifications.
More importantly, there were transcripts of private conversations held only hours ago in the heart of enemy capitals. Secrets that should have taken years of blood and gold to uncover were now sitting in a neat pile on a table.
"This... this is impossible," Duke Hektor breathed, staring at a map that detailed a planned ambush by the Southern Coalition. "This meeting only happened last night in Veridia."
Regina stood in the center of the hall, her veiled face tilted toward the throne. She looked not like a petitioner, but like a merchant who had just demonstrated that she owned the market.
Draven stared at the shadows as they dissolved back into the floor. The coldness he felt wasn't just magic; it was the realization that the woman behind the veil held the world in her hand.