The Emperor's funeral sted seven days, as tradition demanded. Seven days of ceremonies, processions, and ritual mourning that transformed the summer pace and surrounding city into a sea of bck-cd nobility and commoners paying respects to their departed ruler.

  Throughout it all, Augustus performed fwlessly—the grieving son, the dignified heir, the reassuring presence promising stability in uncertain times. To casual observers, he and Julian presented a picture of brotherly unity in their shared loss.

  But behind this facade of familial harmony, a silent war had already begun.

  On the evening of the third day of mourning, Natalie entered Julian's chambers with news from Lady Emmeline.

  "Four members of the Imperial Council have been detained on suspicion of treason," she reported quietly as she helped Julian prepare for that evening's memorial service. "All were loyal to your father and known to favor banced governance."

  Julian nodded grimly. "Augustus moves faster than I anticipated. Has the Chancellor been approached?"

  "Not yet, though Lady Emmeline reports he's received 'invitations' to several private meetings with Augustus's advisors."

  "He must decline them all," Julian said firmly. "So long as he holds the regency document and remains free to present it at the formal succession ceremony, Augustus cannot act openly."

  On the fourth day, Julian discovered that the contents of his father's private study had been removed for "cataloging"—including, presumably, any other documents that might support the regency council.

  On the fifth day, the foreign delegations arrived to pay respects—including Princess Yvraine of Nordicia, who received notably attentive treatment from Augustus despite the presence of his wife, Crown Princess Helena, who appeared increasingly distressed and unwell.

  By the sixth day of mourning, Julian had counted seventeen key officials repced or reassigned—all movements consolidating Augustus's control of the pace, treasury, and military.

  The final funeral rites on the seventh day were conducted with solemn grandeur. The Emperor's body, preserved through ancient arts, was pced in the Imperial mausoleum alongside his ancestors. As tradition dictated, the crown was carried before the procession on a bck velvet pillow, to be pced in the Hall of Rule until the formal coronation.

  That evening, as nobles from across the Empire gathered in the great hall for the culminating banquet, the atmosphere was thick with tension barely masked by ceremonial decorousness. Everyone present understood that with the funeral complete, the question of succession would now be addressed.

  Julian sat at the high table beside Sophia, both dressed in mourning bck relieved only by the silver embroidery denoting their royal status. Augustus sat in the central position that had been their father's, the Empress to his right, with Crown Princess Helena notably absent due to "indisposition."

  As servants cleared the final course, Augustus rose, commanding immediate silence from the assembled nobility.

  "Noble lords and dies of the Empire," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly through the vast hall, "we have honored my father's memory with proper reverence. Now we must honor his legacy by ensuring the Empire's continued strength and prosperity."

  Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.

  "As is traditional, the formal coronation will occur after a thirty-day period of transition. However," Augustus continued, "the Empire cannot stand without leadership in these uncertain times. Therefore, I shall immediately assume governing authority as Regent Emperor until the coronation confirms my full ascension."

  Julian tensed, exchanging a quick gnce with Sophia. This was it—Augustus's first public move to circumvent their father's final decree.

  Lord Chancellor Voss rose slowly from his seat further down the high table. His aged face betrayed nothing as he addressed the hall.

  "Your Highness, if I may," he said, his voice thin but carrying the weight of his office. "There exists a document bearing the te Emperor's seal regarding the transition of power."

  Augustus smiled tightly. "Indeed, Chancellor. My father's will regarding the succession is well established by Imperial w and tradition. I am the Crown Prince, named heir from birth."

  "Yes, Your Highness," the Chancellor agreed carefully. "However, this specific document addresses the governance during the transition period. It establishes a Regency Council of five members to—"

  "Ah," Augustus interrupted smoothly. "You refer to a draft proposal my father considered during his illness. After further reflection, he recognized the impracticality of divided leadership and discarded the idea. I have a more recent document here."

  With perfect theatrical timing, Augustus gestured to an advisor who stepped forward with a sealed document. Augustus broke the seal and unfolded it.

  "Dated merely ten days ago, this crifies my father's final wishes: 'I hereby affirm the traditional succession and grant my heir, Crown Prince Augustus, full authority to govern immediately upon my passing as Regent Emperor until his coronation.'"

  A shocked murmur ran through the hall. The Chancellor's face had gone pale.

  "If I may examine this document, Your Highness?" he requested.

  "Of course," Augustus replied magnanimously, handing it to a guard who delivered it to the Chancellor.

  Julian watched the elderly man's face as he studied the parchment. The Imperial seal was genuine—it would be, as Augustus had access to it. The signature... Julian couldn't see from his position, but the Chancellor's deepening frown suggested it was convincing enough.

  "This appears to be in order," the Chancellor finally said, his voice betraying the slightest tremor. "Though I find it curious that His Majesty never mentioned this change to me."

  "My father's final days were filled with many concerns," Augustus replied. "Fortunately, we have this document to guide us."

  Julian knew then that the battle was lost before it had truly begun. Augustus had produced a forgery that would be nearly impossible to disprove, especially with witnesses to the original document either removed or intimidated.

  "If there are no further administrative matters," Augustus continued smoothly, "I wish to share my vision for our Empire's future."

  What followed was a masterfully crafted speech promising prosperity, security, and glory—everything the nobles wanted to hear. Augustus outlined pns for expanded trade, strengthened borders, and internal improvements, skillfully avoiding any mention of his private army or Northern exploitation.

  As Augustus spoke, Julian felt Natalie slip quietly behind his chair.

  "Captain Laurent reports Augustus's personal guards are surrounding the Chancellor's quarters," she whispered, barely audible. "And there are men at our wing as well."

  Julian nodded almost imperceptibly, maintaining his composed expression. The pieces were falling into pce. By morning, the Chancellor would likely be detained, the original document seized or destroyed, and Julian himself... well, that remained to be seen.

  When Augustus finished his speech to enthusiastic appuse, Julian rose and did the only thing he could—he publicly pledged his loyalty to his brother and the Empire.

  "In our father's memory, I offer my service to the realm and to you, Regent Emperor," he said, the courtly nguage masking the bitter taste of defeat.

  Augustus's smile was triumphant as he embraced Julian before the assembled nobility. "Together, we shall honor our father's legacy," he decred. "Family united in purpose."

  The feasting and celebrations continued te into the night, but Julian and Sophia withdrew early, citing grief. As they walked through the corridors toward the East Wing, fnked by Julian's personal guards, they maintained perfect composure—a royal couple in mourning, nothing more.

  Only when they reached their private chambers, with Natalie ensuring no servants remained to overhear, did Julian allow his mask to slip.

  "He's won this round completely," he said, pacing the room. "The Chancellor will be removed by morning, the document repced with Augustus's forgery."

  "Not completely," Sophia corrected, her political mind already working. "He has the pace and the capital, but not the provinces. Your allies still hold significant territories."

  "For now," Julian said grimly. "But without legal standing to challenge Augustus, those allies will face a choice between submission or open rebellion."

  "Then we must give them a third option," Sophia suggested. "A legitimate alternative that doesn't require immediate war."

  Julian looked at her thoughtfully. "You have something specific in mind?"

  "The Western territories," she said. "Your uncle Lord Marcus controls them, and he's no friend to Augustus."

  "Marcus and my father were estranged for years," Julian reminded her.

  "But Marcus might support his nephew against Augustus, especially if you frame it as honoring your father's true final wishes."

  Julian considered this. "Augustus would view any contact with Marcus as treasonous."

  "Which is why we must move carefully," Sophia agreed. "First, we need to secure our position here while establishing discreet communications with the West."

  Natalie, who had been listening silently, stepped forward. "Augustus will almost certainly restrict your movements and communications, Your Highness. We must prepare for that reality."

  Julian nodded grimly. "House arrest disguised as protection. I've been expecting it."

  "Then we need someone who can move freely between you and your allies," Sophia said. "Someone Augustus won't suspect or closely monitor."

  All three exchanged knowing gnces. There was really only one option.

  "Natalie," Julian said softly. "You would be at tremendous risk."

  "Less than you," she replied simply. "To Augustus, I am merely your loyal attendant—useful for monitoring your activities, perhaps, but not a threat in my own right."

  The irony wasn't lost on her—her disguise, maintained for so long to protect herself, might now be the only thing that could protect Julian.

  As midnight bells tolled across the pace, marking the official end of mourning and the beginning of Augustus's reign, the three conspirators pnned in hushed voices, fully aware that by morning, everything would change.