The morning sun cast long shadows across the opulent chambers of King Henry VI's palace, painting the white marble floors with streaks of gold.

  Aven Zai stood by a vast window, his sharp golden eyes taking in the sprawling cityscape of the Sovereign Lands.

  From this vantage point, the realm's last human stronghold looked almost majestic—its soaring spires and gleaming domes a testament to mankind's resilience.

  But Aven Zai knew better.

  In the week since his arrival, he'd glimpsed the rot beneath the gilded surface.

  A soft cough drew his attention.

  King Henry VI slouched on his ornate throne, a goblet of wine already in hand despite the early hour.

  The king's eyes were bloodshot, his crown askew atop his thinning hair.

  "Well, my mysterious advisor," Henry slurred, "what wisdom do you have for us today?"

  Aven Zai turned, allowing a carefully crafted smile to play across his lips. "Your Majesty, I believe it's time I familiarized myself more intimately with your domain.

  To serve you best, I must understand the rhythms of your city, the whispers in its streets."

  Henry waved a bejeweled hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, go on then.

  But remember, you're here to solve our problems, not cavort with the rabble."

  "Of course, Your Majesty," Aven Zai bowed low, hiding the glint of contempt in his eyes. "Every observation I make will be in service to your reign."

  As Aven Zai straightened, he allowed a tendril of Lashon Kesef to infuse his next words. "You can trust that my loyalty is absolute."

  The king's eyes glazed slightly, and he nodded with sudden conviction. "Yes... yes, I do trust you, Aven Zai.

  Go, learn what you must.

  I await your insights with great anticipation."

  Aven Zai bowed once more and strode from the throne room, his mind already racing with plans.

  As he navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the palace, he nodded respectfully to passing courtiers and servants alike.

  Each interaction was a piece of data, another thread in the vast stock of information he was weaving.

  Lady Elara, the king's cousin, her eyes sharp with ambition barely concealed beneath a veneer of courtly grace.

  Sir Darius, the grizzled captain of the guard, his hand never far from his sword hilt.

  Magister Thorne, the royal librarian, his gaze distant as if perpetually lost in ancient tomes.

  Aven Zai filed away each encounter, each nuance of expression and tone.

  As he approached the palace gates, a serving girl scurried past, her arms laden with linens. Aven Zai reached out, steadying her as she stumbled.

  "Careful there," he said softly, infusing his words with just a touch of Lashon Kesef. "Tell me, what's your name?"

  "L-Lira, my lord," she stammered, her eyes wide.

  "Lira," Aven Zai repeated, smiling warmly. "A lovely name.

  Tell me, Lira, what do the people say about their king?"

  For a moment, fear flashed across her face.

  Then, almost against her will, words began to spill forth. "They... they say he feasts while we starve, my lord.

  That he cowers behind these walls while the Harbingers chip away at what's left of our lands."

  Aven Zai nodded sympathetically. "A heavy burden, to be sure.

  And what of hope?

  Do the people still believe in a brighter future?"

  Lira's brow furrowed. "There are whispers, my lord.

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  Old prophecies of a savior who will restore humanity to its rightful place.

  But..." she trailed off, shaking her head.

  "But hope is in short supply these days," Aven Zai finished for her.

  He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, Lira.

  Your words have been most illuminating."

  As the girl hurried away, Aven Zai felt the first stirrings of discomfort in his throat.

  A reminder of the price of his power.

  He pushed the sensation aside and strode through the palace gates, out into the bustling streets of the city.

  The contrast between the palace's opulence and the city's grime was stark.

  Narrow, winding streets teemed with humanity in all its messy glory.

  Merchants hawked wares from cluttered stalls, their cries mingling with the babble of a hundred conversations.

  The air was thick with the scents of unwashed bodies, cooking meat, and the ever-present tang of the sea.

  Aven Zai moved through the crowds like a shadow, his keen eyes and ears absorbing every detail.

  He paused at a fruit vendor's stall, exchanging a few coins for a ripe pear.

  "Quite the crowd today," he remarked casually, taking a bite of the fruit.

  The vendor, a weathered man with calloused hands, grunted. "Festival of the Twin Moons coming up.

  Fools think stuffing their faces for a night will make them forget their troubles."

  Aven Zai raised an eyebrow. "Troubles?

  Surely life in the last bastion of humanity can't be all bad?"

  The vendor's laugh was bitter. "Last bastion, they call it.

  More like last prison.

  We're packed in here like sardines, waiting for the Harbingers to finally finish the job."

  Aven Zai leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial. "And what if there was another way?

  A path to reclaiming what was lost?"

  The vendor's eyes narrowed. "What are you on about, stranger?"

  Aven Zai smiled mysteriously. "Oh, nothing.

  Just idle speculation.

  But you know, I've heard whispers.

  Of prophecies, of a coming change.

  Who knows?

  Perhaps the tides of fate are shifting even as we speak."

  He walked away before the vendor could respond, leaving the seeds of his words to take root and grow.

  As the day wore on, Aven Zai wove his way through the city's symphony.

  He paused in marketplaces, lingered in bustling squares, and finally, as the twin moons began to rise, he found himself pushing open the door to The Broken Chalice—one of the city's most popular taverns.

  The interior was dim and smoky, packed with laborers and minor officials alike, all seeking solace at the bottom of a tankard.

  Aven Zai made his way to the bar, ordering a mug of the house ale.

  He sipped it slowly, grimacing at the bitter taste, as he surveyed the room.

  In one corner, a group of dock workers argued loudly about the latest tariffs.

  Near the hearth, a cluster of clerks huddled, their voices low as they complained about palace politics.

  And at a table near the center of the room sat a man whose bearing marked him as military, though he wore no uniform.

  Aven Zai approached, plastering an expression of mild inebriation on his face. "Mind if I join you, friend?

  It's been a long day, and I could use some company."

  The man grunted, gesturing to an empty chair.

  Up close, Aven Zai could see the scars that marked him as a veteran of many battles.

  "First time in The Chalice?" the man asked gruffly.

  Aven Zai nodded, taking another sip of his ale. "Just arrived in the city recently.

  Still finding my bearings."

  "Hmpf.

  Bad time to come to the Sovereign Lands, if you ask me.

  This place is circling the drain."

  "Oh?" Aven Zai leaned forward, interest plain on his face. "How do you mean?"

  The veteran's eyes darkened. "King's lost his spine, if he ever had one.

  We should be fortifying, preparing for the Harbingers' next push.

  Instead, he throws festivals and commissions statues of himself."

  Aven Zai nodded sympathetically, then paused as if struck by a thought.

  He glanced around conspiratorially before leaning in close.

  "You know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I've heard... things.

  Whispers of change on the wind.

  Of ancient prophecies coming to fruition."

  The veteran's eyebrows shot up. "Prophecies? What kind of prophecies?"

  Aven Zai allowed a tendril of Lashon Kesef to infuse his words, just enough to lend them a subtle, compelling resonance. "They say a savior will rise from unexpected quarters.

  One who will unite humanity, reclaim our lost lands.

  A leader to stand against the Harbingers themselves."

  The veteran's eyes widened, a spark of long-dormant hope flickering to life. "And... you believe this?"

  Aven Zai shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Who can say?

  But in times like these, sometimes hope is all we have.

  Wouldn't it be something, though? To see humanity rise again, to push back the darkness?"

  He stood, clapping the veteran on the shoulder. "Just something to think about, friend.

  Spread the word, if you're so inclined.

  Who knows? Maybe if enough of us believe, we can make it come true."

  As Aven Zai walked away, he could already hear the veteran turning to his neighbors, eager to share this tantalizing morsel of hope.

  The rest of the night passed in a blur of similar encounters.

  In each tavern, each gathering place, Aven Zai planted the seeds of his manufactured prophecy.

  Never too overt, never claiming direct knowledge. Just hints and suggestions, each one carefully crafted to spark curiosity and kindle the embers of hope.

  It was well past midnight when Aven Zai finally returned to the palace, slipping in through a servant's entrance he'd discovered during his earlier explorations.

  As he made his way towards his chambers, fatigue began to settle into his bones.

  His throat felt raw, as if he'd been gargling glass.

  The price of wielding Lashon Kesef was steep, but necessary.

  Just as he reached the door to his rooms, a wave of dizziness washed over him.

  Aven Zai stumbled, catching himself against the wall.

  He tasted copper in his mouth, and when he brought his hand to his face, his fingers came away stained with blood.

  Cursing softly, Aven Zai fumbled with the door latch and all but fell into his chambers.

  He barely made it to a basin of water before another wave of nausea hit him.

  As he retched, flecks of blood spattered the pristine white marble.

  When the spasm passed, Aven Zai slumped to the floor, his back against the cool stone wall. He closed his eyes, focusing on steadying his breathing.

  The power of Lashon Kesef was immense, but it was clear he couldn't rely on it indefinitely. He would need to be strategic, to husband his strength carefully.

  But even as these thoughts passed through his mind, a smile tugged at the corners of his bloodstained lips.

  For the seeds had been planted.

  Now, he need only wait for them to grow.