Atheron lifted the coffer lid beneath the alcove lamp while Hajin kept his splint well clear of the rail.
"Royal Executioner," he said, drawing a pendant out by its chain until the carved lion faced the aisle.
"The old chronicles call it the Imperial Blade, and the chair has stood empty for nearly two centuries."
He leaned in, studying the sword clamped in the lion's jaws without reaching for it, "Wow, an empty chair with a seriously enthusiastic name."
"Who sat in it last?"
Atheron let the pendant settle on his palm, gathering the loose chain beneath it with two fingers.
"The last holder served during the Great Schism, when five ducal houses offered our southern ports to foreign armies," he said, his voice dropping low, "nine conspirator lords died in their banquet halls within twenty-four hours, and my ancestor kept the ports."
"Damn." Hajin whistled through his teeth, eyeing the steady hand beneath the lion.
