***
{Inside The Projection}
The Holy Palace had gone quiet since the coronation, but not in peace; it was fake, all of it.
Servants held their breath in hallways, and guards stood straighter, much stiffer, their hands closer to their hilts at all times.
This... 'change' wasn't something they'd get used to anytime soon.
Tension was always in the air, and it was thickest in a certain room.
One that housed its very cause.
Indeed, Malik was there, and he sat on a black-gold throne at the head of an oval table; a long one. The same men from before surrounded that table; they hadn't changed, but Malik certainly had.
Or rather, he had returned to how he previously looked, no longer dressing like a Sultan, but a man in mourning, all black and a belt of orange.
Of course, Sinbad rested quietly on his shoulder, wings slightly out, feathers faintly glowing under the windowlight.
The only movement between them was the owl's blinking; Malik didn't even do that much.
