The chamber remained frozen, every breath drawn with care, every heartbeat louder than it should have been. Kael's words—spoken with effortless authority—hung in the air like an executioner's blade.
A traitor among them.
Empress Selene's fingers tapped against the armrest of her obsidian throne, the sound sharp and methodical. It was a measured rhythm, each strike a reminder that time was moving, even if the rest of the chamber felt trapped in stillness.
Kael allowed silence to bloom. It was his element. Fear didn't need shouting—it needed precision.
Selene's voice broke the stillness, calm but laced with a razor's edge. "You propose we do nothing, while a traitor walks free among us?"
Kael tilted his head slightly, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "I propose we do not flinch. If we act now, they scatter into the dark. But if they believe their deception remains unseen, they will make a mistake."
She studied him. "And if their next mistake kills?"
Kael met her gaze without hesitation. "Then we make sure it's the last thing they ever do."
A flicker of approval flashed in her violet eyes—but it passed quickly, replaced by imperial poise.
A voice rose from the far side of the table—Duke Alvar, clad in military regalia polished enough to reflect his insecurity.
"This is arrogance," he snapped. "You speak of strategy as if this court were your war table. We cannot let some shadow plot grow unchecked—"
Kael didn't even look at him. "And yet, you already have."
Alvar bristled. "What did you say?"
Kael finally turned, his eyes cold. "You speak of danger while you sit in velvet and feast on fear. Tell me, Duke, are you more outraged by the presence of a traitor... or by the thought that I might be the one to find them first?"
A low murmur swept through the nobles. Alvar's face darkened.
Selene watched, silent. She wanted to see how far Kael would push.
"I offer a solution," Kael continued, voice steady. "We force the traitor's hand. Present a threat they cannot ignore—a shift in power that tips the scales out of their control."
Selene leaned forward. "And what form would this 'shift' take?"
Kael's smile was ice.
"Make me Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces."
The room exploded.
Shouts, gasps, denials. Some stood. Others leaned forward, their eyes glittering with interest or dread.
Selene's expression barely changed, but a sharp glint of intrigue appeared. "You do not ask for small favors, Lord Kael."
"I don't ask," Kael replied. "I offer results."
Alvar rose, furious. "This is madness! You want to hand him control of our entire military machine?"
Kael turned slowly, his voice smooth as poison. "Worried your men would prefer loyalty to competence?"
Selene raised a hand. The room fell silent.
Kael stepped closer to the throne, his tone now deliberate and intimate. "The traitor believes the game belongs to them. Let them think I am their greatest threat. Let them fear me more than they fear exposure. That's how we find them."
Selene regarded him for a long moment. Then: "The Frostveil Highlands burn. If you subdue them within one month, the title is yours."
Kael inclined his head. "Consider them quiet."
She turned to the court. "Objections?"
Alvar opened his mouth—but closed it. His face was carved from fury.
Selene's voice turned to silk. "Then it is decided. Lord Kael departs at dawn."
As the nobles filtered from the chamber, Kael paused at the base of Selene's dais. Their eyes locked.
"You enjoy this game far too much," she said softly.
Kael's smirk returned. "And you enjoy watching me win it."
Selene's eyes glittered. "Perhaps."
Kael turned and left, boots echoing against marble.
Behind him, Selene remained seated—still, serene.
But she was smiling.
And somewhere in the chamber… the traitor clenched their fists.
Their war had already begun.
To be continued…