Aethelberg was a city carved by the sea.
The salt breeze carried the scent of distant waves, threading through the narrow streets and wide boulevards alike. Gulls wheeled above the tallest spires, their cries echoing off stone facades polished by centuries of wind and weather. The city did not merely sit beside the ocean—it breathed with it.
At the heart of Aethelberg, rising from the coastal plain like a monument to ambition itself, stood the Imperial Palace.
It was the seat of the Executive arm, the residence of House Zeppelin, and the headquarters of the Royal Enforcers. Its walls were pale stone streaked with veins of gold, its towers crowned with flags that snapped in the sea breeze. From its highest balcony, the King could look out over his domain—the city, the harbor, the endless grey expanse of the Northern Sea.
To the left of the Palace, the Council Building rose like a fortress of deliberation.
Its architecture was severe, deliberate—rows of narrow windows, buttressed walls, a grand entrance flanked by columns carved with the seals of the fifteen noble houses. This was the seat of the Legislature. It was also the seat of the Inquisition, though that particular fact was not advertised. The Inquisitors operated from within these walls, their offices hidden, their identities secret.
To the right of the Palace, the Supreme Court stood in solemn contrast.
Its design was older, heavier, its stone darkened by age. This was the seat of the Judiciary, the home of the Punishment Division. Prisoners entered through a low arch at its base. Few emerged.
Leading up to the Palace, a wide boulevard cut through the Residency—the district where lords and high officials kept their townhouses. The buildings here were stately, each one a statement of wealth and lineage. Manor walls rose behind iron gates. Gardens bloomed in carefully tended squares. Servants moved between the houses on errands that never seemed urgent but never stopped.
Behind the Palace, toward the coast, the Hunter's Bureau sprawled across a low hill. Its towers were shorter, its walls plainer. Function over form. A place of work, not worship.
And on the horizon beyond, visible through gaps between the buildings—rose the twin towers of Fazhan University. Spires of pale stone, connected by a covered bridge that arched across the sky like a frozen wave. It was a place of learning, of discovery, of the kind of ambition that built empires and destroyed them.
The Council Building swallowed them. Inside—the temperature dropped.
Not physically.
But perceptually.
Its entrance hall was vast, its ceiling lost in shadow. Light fell from high windows in pale columns, illuminating dust motes that drifted through the air like slow snow. The floor was black and white marble, polished to a mirror shine, arranged in a pattern that seemed to shift as Elias walked.
Guards lined the walls—not the cold automatons from the streets, but men in formal uniform, their faces carved from the same stone as the building. They did not move. They simply observed.
The hallways branched outward, each one leading deeper into the structure, like veins carrying purpose toward a central heart.
Their footsteps echoed.
Measured.
Controlled.
Gyan stepped closer to Alaric.
"Should I present the counter information now?" she asked quietly.
"I know you can review them instantly."
She didn't need to elaborate. Alaric shook his head.
"No. You know there is a law forbidding the use of one's Trait within the Council building."
Elias glanced at him.
"Even for something like reading?"
"Especially for something like reading," Alaric replied.
"But what if there is an emergency?"
Alaric shrugged.
Gyan nodded.
"I see, using it would give them more ammunition."
"Exactly."
"Forgive my thoughtlessness sir." Gyan said with a bow.
Alaric exhaled slowly and continued walking. "As much as I dislike entering a situation unprepared… I will have to adapt."
Gyan's gaze sharpened slightly.
"You intend to adjourn the session."
"Yes."
"In these conditions?" she asked.
There was no doubt in her voice.
Just assessment.
Alaric smiled.
Calm.
Assured.
"Who do you think you're speaking to?"
Gyan didn't respond immediately.
"Well someones confident," she said with a smirk.
Alaric's smile deepened slightly.
"Besides—I happen to have an... irresistible ally."
Elias glanced at him.
Jamie, who had been staring at the marble floor as if counting the tiles, looked up.
"Me?"
Alaric chuckled.
"We'll see." They continued walking.
Voices began to echo ahead. Not the hushed murmurs of the entrance hall, but the raised cadences of argument.
Faint at first.
Then clearer.
"—we cannot delay the proceedings indefinitely. The man has been absent for two months."
Another voice responded, calmer, measured.
"We started the Council an hour early at your insistence. The deadline has not elapsed. Protocol demands we wait for all members to be present."
"How much longer?" the first snapped. "We delayed enough."
''Patience, Lord Amberose."
"Patience," the first voice scoffed.
"You hide behind 'patience' while the kingdom's business stalls."
"I hide behind nothing. With the way you're acting, I'm tempted to believe you have an ulterior motive Amberose."
"Are you accusing me, Oberoi?"
"Now now gentlemen, lets be civilised."
"Osei..."
They reached the main hall.
A figure near the entrance turned—straightened—the herald at the door—a thin man in formal robes, his voice trained to carry—bellowed the announcement.
"The ruler of the Blackwood Region—Lord Alaric Auro Dukker—has arrived!"
Silence.
Instant.
Complete.
Alaric straightened his shoulders. He adjusted his cuffs and leaned slightly toward Elias and Jamie.
"Be strong," he murmured.
Then—
He walked forward with a confident smile.
"It's good to see that you're all so lively. My apologies for the delay," he said, his voice carrying easily across the hall.
"It seems my invitation was... misplaced."
All eyes turned.
Elias stepped in behind him.
And for the first time—
He saw them.
The rulers of Aerthos.
The Council Chamber was a theater of power.
Seats were arranged in a wide semicircle, each one carved from dark wood, each one marked with the seal of a noble house. The Lord of each house sat in their designated place, their advisors flanking them, their aides standing at the ready.
Each region of the kingdom was governed by a noble house—powerful offshoots of the royal lineage that had unified the kingdom centuries ago. House Zeppelin was the crown—the executive, the enforcer of laws, the ultimate authority. But the Zeppelins did not sit in this chamber.
They ruled.
They did not debate.
Their influence felt in every vote, even when their voice was absent.
Instead, the remaining fifteen houses governed through deliberation and vote. They shaped the laws that the King would maybe assent and the Courts would interpret.
A neutral individual was nominated to manage each meeting—a Speaker, a person who had no affiliation to any House not even the Zeppelins, chosen for their impartiality, who guided discussion and declared consensus.
The Inquisition was the shadowy part of the Council tasked with investigation. But its head was a mystery. Only the King knew the face of the High Inquisitor. This secrecy was intentional, a defense against manipulation. You cannot bribe what you cannot find. You cannot threaten what you cannot see.
A necessary shadow.
Elias's gaze moved across the chamber.
Banners lined the walls, each one distinct.
House Zeppelin — White. The royal house who's banner served as the flag of the nation. Its symbol was a Crown with a sword and a sceptre crossed beneath it. They were not present, but their shadow filled the room.
House Dukker — Red. His father's house. The black falcon descending, claws outstretched. Blackwood.
House Mellou—deep blue, bearing the crouching lion. Mellou.
House Amberose— orange, bearing silver tower, a blazing sun over the Amber.
House Shirogane—darksilver, bearing a crescent moon crossed by a single arrow, governing the territory of Hoshikawa.
House Nova—violet, a star exploding into fragments, representing the plains of Novaris.
House Lin Feng—jade green, a coiled dragon breathing flame, ruling over the territory of Qingyuan.
House Wunvella—emerald, a phoenix rising from flames, tied to the lush region of Verdantia.
House Vaughn—obsidian black, a mountain peak shrouded in clouds,governing the expanse of Noctis Vale.
House Osei—burnished gold, an elephant standing by a palm tree, representing the territory of Kumerica.
House Dahl—deep crimson-brown, a rose wrapped in thorns, ruling the region of Karstfall.
House Oberoi—royal purple, a peacock in full display, governing the expanse of Suryan.
House Baiden—steel blue, a ship sailing through storm clouds, tied to the territory of Ferrum Reach.
House Vancross—charcoal gray, a crossed sword and staff, ruling the plains of Gravenmoor.
House Sinclair—teal, a wolf howling at a full moon, governing the riverlands of Evershade.
House Cavendish—rose gold, a sea serpent coiled around an anchor ,tied to the fertile expanse of Valmere.
These were the pillars of Aerthos.
Ancient.
Powerful.
Unyielding.
Sixteen houses. Fifteen seats.
Fifteen ways to make an enemy.
The faces that turned toward Alaric were not uniform.
Some were curious. Some were cold. Some—a few—were almost warm.
A man sat in the front row near the center of the semicircle, his orange robes bright against the dark wood of his seat. He was a rotund man, with a comb over and beard that did not quite hide the softness of his jaw. His smile was pleasant.
His eyes were not.
"Auro," he said, his voice carrying across the chamber.
"How gracious of you to finally join us."
Alaric inclined his head.
"Kingsley. I see your sense of timing remains... flexible."
A few of the other lords shifted in their seats. Some hid smiles. Others did not bother.
The Speaker—an elderly woman in grey robes, her face lined with decades of political warfare—rapped her gavel against the arm of her chair.
"Lord Dukker, please take your seat. We have much to discuss."
Alaric walked to his designated place, the red and black of his house standing out against the sea of colors. Elias and Jamie followed, standing behind his chair as Gyan took her place among the advisors.
Jamie leaned close to Elias.
"Your dad is scary when he wants to be."
Elias did not disagree.
The Speaker raised her gavel.
"The Council is now in session."
She paused.
"Lord Dukker—there are... matters to address."
Alaric smiled.
"I imagined there would be."