The golden glow of dawn slithered through the stained-gss windows of the vish inn, casting fractured light across silkes and the tangled bodies strewn across them. Prince Lu stirred, not from the call of responsibility but from the insufferable pounding on the chamber door. His temples throbbed, the remnants of st night’s excesses ging to him like the lingering st of expensive perfume and sweat.

  “Yhness!” came the grating voice of Lord Valerius, his tone ced with impatience. “You’re te. The God-Emperor does not appreciate tardiness.”

  Lu groaned, rolling onto his back, his head resting against the soft thighs of a sleeping courtesah violet-hued skin and eyes that shimmered like twin moons. Another led against his chest, her meical limbs still twitg slightly from st night’s indulgehe gynoid’s syic skin was seamless, indistinguishable from the real thing unless one knew where to look.

  He reached foblet, only to find it empty. “Saints preserve me,” he muttered, pushing himself upright. “Tell me, Valerius, must you always arrive at the worst possible moment?”

  “The worst moment would be your head on a pike outside the pace gates,” Valerius shot back from the other side of the door. “The God-Emperor waits for no one.”

  Lu smirked, scratg at his bare chest. “Well, her does my cock, and I assure you, it is far more demanding.” He nudged one of the courtesans awake. “Be a dear ach me some wine, won’t you?”

  The woman—human, or at least mostly—giggled drowsily and rolled over instead. Useless.

  With a resigned sigh, Lu swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stepping onto the marble floor in a dispy of unbrandeur. He stretched, unashamed of his nakedness, and cast a gnce downward. “Magnifit as always,” he mused before reag for a discarded robe trimmed with gold and lined with the sigil of House Sorius.

  Opening the door just a sliver, he found Valerius standing stiff-backed, his robes pristihe emblem of Sorius gleaming in the m light. “Oh, how radiant you are in yhteous indignation,” Lu drawled. “Has aold you how well anger suits you? Makes you look almost... virile.”

  “Get dressed, Lu,” Valerius snapped. “Drakon is waiting.”

  “Drakon wait.”

  “No, he ot.”

  Lu sighed dramatically but stepped back, allowing Valerius inside. “Fine. But ime, at least bring me something strohan your usual droning.”

  Outside, Elyndor shimmered in the early light, its spires of gold and marble rising toward the heavens, a city of impossible beauty. The grand avenues were paved with obsidian and quartz, and noblemen paraded their wealth with garments of the fi silk, adorned with sorite jewels that captured the dimming light of Sora Prime’s dying sun. Above them, the vast celestial towers of the Astral Ministry loomed, their translut domes housing the physicists and aasked with keeping the bck-gold star in its fragile stasis.

  Yet beh the gilded facade, in the shadowed alleys that wouween the opulent structures, Elyndor’s underbelly festered. Cutthroats and bck-market alchemists lingered in the gloom, their whispered dealings masked by the city’s perfume of inse and spiced wine. Whores of every species beed from curtained balies, their eyes sharp and hungry. A priest of Sostrism—robes immacute, face serene—slipped a pouch of sorite s into the waiting hands of a masked figure, their silent transa vanishing into the m bustle.

  At the entrance of the inn, Drakon leaned against the polished limousine, arms crossed, his expression carved from stone. His armor, polished to a mirror sheen, bore the insignia of House Drais. “Took you long enough,” he muttered as Lu emerged.

  Lu smirked, stretg his arms as though he had not a care in the world. “Well if it isn't my favorite Drais. Such a pleasure to have you joioday, Lord Drakon.”

  Drakon barely blinked. "You reek of whores and wine. Get in the car."

  Lu clutched his chest dramatically. "Ah, straight to the point. No forepy? You wound me, Drakon. At least pretend you missed me."

  Drakon exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "Try not to make a se before we reach the pace."

  Lu slid into the limousih a satisfied sigh, lounging as if he were the emperor himself. “No promises.”

  —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The gates of the Imperial Paed ahead, an obse dispy of opulend power. Carved from celestial stone and inid with veins of radiant gold, they depicted the quests of House Sorius in painstakiail—ses of emperors past, their hands raised in triumph over kneeling worlds. Above the entrahe sigil of the God-Emperlowed with divine radiance, an ever-burning sun encased in an intricate web of ruhat pulsed with a energy.

  At the foot of the grand staircase, the padins of the Sorian Order stood motionless, their golden armor catg the dim light of the dying star above. Their helms were sculpted into serene visages, their faces forever frozen in an expression of divine purpose. Clutched in their hands were psma gives, ons said to burn with the Emperor’s own wrath. These were not mere guards—they were zealots, utterly devoted to their god-ruler, and willing to sughter in his hout hesitation.

  Lu smirked as he stepped out of the limousine, eyeing the pace with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "Subtle, isn’t it?"

  Drakon ignored him, already asding the stairs with his usual stoic determination. Valerius followed, his expression tightening as they he gilded doors of the throne room. They parted without a sound, revealing the hall beyond—a pce where dece had beeed to a form of worship.

  Marble pilrs lihe chamber, each carved with the celestial myths of Sorius’s divine lihe flleamed with mirrored obsidian, refleg the golden deliers overhead that dripped with alchemical fire. The God-Emperor’s court was gathered in full splendor—nobles dressed in flowing robes of sor-thread, courtesans lounging among silk-draped divans, and high priests adorned with sunburst s murmuring prayers of devotion.

  And there, seated upon the Sor Throne, was the Emperor himself, draped in gold and arrogance. A living god amongst men. The throne room fell into a reverent silence as Prince Lu approached the Sor Throne, his every step eg against the polished obsidian floor. The God-Emperor sat unmoving, his expression unreadable beh the golden mask of his station. The air shimmered with raw power, a palpable reminder of the divihority he wielded—or what little remained of it.

  Lu offered a nguid bow, his smirk never quite fading. “Your Radiance,” he drawled, “a pleasure, as always.”

  The Emperor did not aowledge the jest. His silence was heavier than words, an absehat sent unease rippling through those gathered. It was the court that filled the void, their ughter and murmurs slithering through the gilded chamber like bloated, self-satisfied serpents.

  “The campaign against House Auroxa. Report,” the Emperor i st, his voice resonant and hollow, as though it came from somewhere distant.

  Drakon stepped forward, his posture rigid, his voice ironcd. “House Auroxa’s forces were routed at the Battle of Veridian Reach. Their strongholds on Karthos and Dain-7 have been reduced to rubble, their fleet scattered. The house is extinct. Their heir did not survive.”

  Laughter rippled through the court, dismissive and smug.

  “Is this what we have been summoned for?” scoffed a corpulent noble draped in sor-thread finery. “To hear of the fall of an insignifit house?”

  “An insignifit house that held against the Imperial Fleet lohan it should have,” Drakon tered coldly, his gaze like a bde. “Their resistance was not mere desperation. They fought with precision, with strategy. It should have been a swift execution, but it was not.”

  Another lord, his face ruddy with years of excess, waved a dismissive hand. “e now, Lord Drakon. You speak as if House Auroxa was a threat. They were vermin awaitiermination.”

  Lu chuckled, feigning amusement, though there was something sharp in his eyes. “A, dear lords, those ‘vermin’ forced us into a prolonged e. One must wonder—are the great lions of Sorius losing their teeth?”

  Murmurs of offeirred, but no one dared voice them ht.

  “The minor houses grow bolder,” Drakon pressed. “They rally, they resist, and they hold lohan they ever should. If a lesser house like Auroxa force our hand so, what of the others? How long before one rises with true strength?”

  Mog ughter followed him, rolling through the court like thunderclouds swollen with arrogance. “Paranoia does not suit you, Lord Drakon,” one of the elder statesmen chortled. “No power rivals Sorius. The God-Emperor’s will is absolute.”

  The Emperor remained silent.

  Before Drakon could respond, Lord Valerius stepped forward, his tone calm, measured. “What my esteemed colleagues mean to say, my lords, is that while the campaign was ultimately victorious, the length of the e is a matter worth noting. It is not a question of Sorius' strength, but of efficy. If even minor houses are f our hand, then perhaps it is time to refine our strategies rather than dismiss these es ht.”

  He turned smoothly toward the gathered nobles, them a smile of polished civility. “Surely, it is not weako anticipate greater challenges, but wisdom to prepare for them.”

  The ughter died down somewhat, repced by murmurs ing sideration.

  Lu exhaled through his houghtful. “A reasonable point, Valerius. How fortunate we are to have you to remind us of the virtues of fht.”

  A sharp voice cut through the chamber. “And what of the methods used?”

  All eyes turo a thin, hawk-nosed noble in emerald robes, his expression twisted with distaste. “There are… troubling rumors, Lord Drakon. That your house resorted to nean the final battle.”

  The murmurs swelled, some sdalized, others intrigued.

  Drakon did not flinch. “House Drais is well within its rights. The Imperial Decree of War-Time Reinfort allows exemptions where additional troops are required.”

  Another lord scoffed. “A ve loophole. The w exists for dire times, not for a minor campaign against a lesser house. Are we to believe that House Drais, with all its vaurength, was so desperate that it o field the dead? The noble sneered. “Neancy is illegal for a reason. Raising the dead is an affront to the Emperor’s divine w.”

  Drakon’s voice was a bde drawn in the quiet. “The Emperor himself has not spoken against it.”

  Silence fell over the court like a weighted shroud. The nobles cast furtive goward the Sor Throne, seeking some sign of e, of nation.

  But the God-Emperor remained unmoving, his expression unreadable, his silence damning in its own way.

  Valerius, ever the diplomat, interjected smoothly, “The real here should not be a legal teicality, but rather what this means for our military doe. If the minor houses are f us to make such decisions, then it is clear we must reevaluate our approach.”

  Drakon said nothing more. The silence was more damning than any argument.

  The Emperor raised a hand. The room sile once. “Ensure no remnants of Auroxa remain. The campaign is finished.”

  Then, for the first time, his gaze settled on Lu. “And you, my rince—see that your talents are put to proper use. I grow weary of indulgehout purpose.”

  Lu ined his head, his smirk never quite reag his eyes. “As you and, Your Radiance.”