For a long moment, the only sound in the throne room was the faint, magical hum of the fortress and Kaen's own frantic heartbeat. The silence was a physical weight. He had done it. He had opened his big, stupid, reincarnated mouth and broken reality more effectively than any forbidden spell.
Commander Drevan Holt was the first to break the stillness. He slammed his steel fist over his heart in a salute, his scarred face a mask of profound understanding. "A declaration of war… on the self," he boomed, his voice resonating with awe. "To purge the kingdom of its past sins, one must first conquer the weaknesses within! It is a war against stagnation! My king, your wisdom is a beacon!"
The court erupted in a wave of murmurs, a chaotic swarm of voices trying to outdo each other. "A master stroke—he challenges his own legend—my god, he's a genius!"
Kaen felt light-headed. They were buying it. He felt a hysterical laugh bubble in his chest but forced it down, molding his terrified expression into what he hoped was a look of cold, regal authority. It probably looked more like he had a bad case of gas.
His gaze snapped to the heroine, Seris Dawnveil. She hadn't moved, but the killing intent in her emerald eyes had been replaced by sheer, unadulterated confusion. The prophecy had said nothing about the Archmage King pre-emptively declaring war on himself.
"You…" she began, her voice tight with suspicion. "What is this game, tyrant?"
"It is no game, hero," Kaen said, praying his voice wouldn't crack. He leaned forward on the throne, which was, to his dismay, still incredibly comfortable. "It is… a necessary crucible. Before I turn my gaze to the disloyal kingdoms, I must first burn away my own impurities."
The words just tumbled out, polished phrases borrowed from the real Rael's echoing memories.
"Crucible? Impurities? Darling, you sound like a bad sermon," Mimic whispered from his shoulder. "You should have gone with fashion. A declaration of war on last season's drab colors. Much more panache."
Seris's expression softened, just a fraction. She hated tyrants… but the man in front of her was now speaking of redemption, however bizarrely. It felt wrong, but her divine prophecy was starting to feel wrong, too.
"You're lying. I know it," she said, though her voice lacked its earlier conviction. "And yet… I want to believe you."
Kaen's heart did a painful little flip. Oh, no. That was empathy. The last thing he needed from the woman prophesied to kill him.
He needed to get out of here.
"The declaration is made," Kaen announced, rising from the throne. "The war council will convene at dawn to discuss strategy. Against… me." He cleared his throat. "Dismissed."
He turned and swept from the room, Mimic billowing behind him. Commander Drevan fell into step beside him, his steel arm whirring softly.
"A bold move, my king," Drevan said, his tone low and protective. "But it has put your enemies off-balance. They came for a tyrant. They found a philosopher."
"Indeed," Kaen said weakly, wanting nothing more than a dark room and a map of the world with a giant "YOU ARE HERE" arrow pointing at a dumpster fire.
"You're not the man I followed," Drevan continued, his voice unexpectedly gentle. "But maybe… maybe that's a good thing."
They reached the doors to the Archmage's private chambers. He pushed them open, and the heavy doors boomed shut behind him, plunging him into an unnerving silence. The air was cold, and the walls hummed with residual spells. Everything was too neat, untouched, like a museum exhibit for a man who had already died. He was an intruder here.
He was Kaen Vale. A nobody. Now trapped in the body of the world's greatest threat, faking his way through a deadly magical opera with a talking cloak, a confused general, and a heroine who was starting to look at him with something other than righteous hatred.
He was in over his head.
As he caught his reflection in a dark, ornate mirror, he saw it again—just for a second. The cold, calculating smile of Rael Ithos, a ghost in the glass, a silent master watching his double's first, clumsy performance.
The smile seemed to say, "Not bad for a beginner."