Elyu, Delaia, and the others settled in the hall of Ostos’s palace, while the old butler ran things with clockwork patience, like oil keeping a quiet machine alive. Penero’s Pers cat spotted Elyu and sprang up, then burrowed into his arms like warm snow, impossibly sweet.

Curiosity first, then motion—Venus had her eye on Tianensai, near her age; in the lull of talk, she kept trying to chat. Tianensai stood behind Elyu with his sword, face cold as frost, a sentry carved from stone.

Irritation flared, hot as pepper in the throat; her lips puffed high, unused to being snubbed. She poked and tugged at Tianensai, while he slipped past like wind through reeds, adding a chilly snort for emphasis.

Her temper blazed high as a torch; her skirt was nearly knotted to shreds. She was about to erupt when Penero caught her like a net catching a silver fish and pressed her back into her seat.

Tianensai’s look said “you had it coming,” a thorn under the skin. It almost killed Venus with rage. Resigned, she pulled a face, hugged her longtime Pers cat Aiqi like a hearth in winter, and smoldered in silence.

Aike the shepherd huffed, then sprawled at Venus’s feet, used to her uneven affections; he slid into a lazy sleep like a stone dropping into a warm pond.

Penero flicked Venus a look, then signaled Tianensai to take her out. Venus chirped a petty victory, a sparrow’s trill in a tiled hall. Tianensai, helpless, led her outside. Aike rose, tail banner swaying, padding after them like a faithful shadow.

Only then did grief rise, heavy as rain. “So... what do you plan to do?” Penero asked.

The old butler’s weathered face was a still pond; yet his eyes flickered like broken starlight, unable to hide sorrow and disappointment.

Ostos sighed, his left hand bracing his brow like a weary pillar. “It’s come to this. We have to act. If the Sya City Incident and the tsunami were his doing, then...”

He shook his head, pain clouding him like stormbanks. Elyu said nothing; his nails bit deep, red dew beading from his palm. Penero’s instinct rushed up as a whispering “no.”

But she was born of the royal line, the queen of today, and had followed Ostos for years; grief must bend into duty. In the end, it became two lines of tears, slipping like sudden rain.

Her heart ached first; the plea came after. “Father... can we leave a path to turn? Big Brother must’ve lost his head to say such things. No one even knows if he’s tied to Sia City yet, right?”

Ostos’s face was knotted, his gaze a mix of grains. “Elyu, you’re the king now. We can only advise; the final judgment is yours.

“I know it’s too heavy for your age. Power struggles aren’t as plain as those rare beasts outside. If you strike at me, I can meet blade with blade.

“This world eats men and leaves no bones; it’s mercilessly real. I can’t steer your decision, but my counsel is this—you’re king. Guard the thirty million souls of Eunomia.

“Paris being muddled—we both see it. A castle and near ten thousand elite aren’t born from mere madness.

“Make full preparations. Stop him before that last, stupid step. If we can, I don’t want blood in the Royal Capital.”

The words fell like frost; the room hardened. Cruel and cold, yes, and still the surest path. Rebellion is death in every season; even a whisper has buried princes in dungeons till their last breath, like seeds pressed into stone.

Elyu’s hands shook; he downed a cup, watching his own tremor like a leaf in wind. He’d thought himself strong enough to be king; he wasn’t.

He wasn’t ready—but he steadied fast. Three deep breaths, exhaling grief and fear like smoke. His eyes brightened again, a pinch of dawn.

“Then... I’ll render judgment. For one month, we’ll investigate and interrogate Paris for treason and city-slaughter. If it’s proven, or he denies to his grave... I’ll convict him of attempted illegal usurpation and cut off his hands and eyes myself, leaving him to live in darkness and pain, a night without stars.”

Elyu finished. Penero couldn’t hold it—she covered her mouth and sobbed, a snapped string.

Ostos’s eyes burned red; his hands settled on Penero’s shoulders, steady as stone, trying to quiet the storm in her chest.

“But if we find he’s truly uninvolved, or only caught in it passively, I’ll judge with care. It depends on whether he repents.” Elyu left himself a path to turn, a bridge over a chasm.

A hawk’s cry split the air—sharp as a blade. Elyu startled, then strode outside.

“...”

“What is it?” Ostos asked, urgency beating in his voice. The cry was familiar—the royal courier falcon. Hooked talons and broad, tough wings; a trained hawk, near-invincible in the sky. It can climb to fifteen hundred meters, a height even the Blackblood War Chariot can only envy, dust trailing far behind.

Its speed is pure lightning—up to one hundred fifty kilometers per hour. Rare and precious; they never fly unless the fire’s at the doorstep.

“What do you mean... ‘Captain Haidra has gone to the Northern Kingdom border to reinforce Princess Talant. I dare not refuse His Majesty’s request. Yet the city cannot go headless; I trust you understand. I’m deeply sorry. May Eunomia stay evergreen and ever-bright.’”

“This route... why is it drawn like this?! It adds half a month for no reason. Someone’s deliberately slowing Haidra’s advance...

“Lure the tiger from the mountain. Pin us where we stand. Talant away, Haidra away—eight sides converging, a pride of tigers to devour the dragon...” Shock hit Elyu like ice; the scroll and the map slipped from his fingers, fear written across his face.

Boom—! From afar, a gate shattered, and the thunder of impact rolled in like a storm.