The moment Maximus entered the Grand Hall, the air seemed to hold.
He walked without pageantry. No vanguard of banners. No heralds trumpeting his name. He wore a robe of deep black, trimmed not in gold but a flat steel-gray, like the edge of a whetted blade.
Each step was deliberate, echoing like a ticking clock through the marbled vastness.
The courtiers parted for him not out of reverence, but instinct—like leaves fleeing from the path of a shadow they did not see coming.
Maximus did not look to either side as he ascended the central dais. He did not pause at the foot of his throne. He simply sat, the high-backed seat of black crystal swallowing him like a sword returning to its sheath.
It was only then that the others noticed: the silence had already begun.
A heartbeat later, the true silence came.
The First Priest rose.
He did not raise his voice. He did not have to.
"Silence."
