Shock.
An unprecedented amount.
The smell of a few days ago still lingered.
All sectors were still reeling....
"To think the capital would be exposed like that...."
Whispers flew as standard procedure.
It was true.
Sector 0 had been exposed....
Exposed to an attack that had left the King looking foolish.
Word travelled like wildfire, no amount of a cover-up could prevent.
A ceremony that was meant to congratulate the new generation.
The future generation, and their future endeavours....
It was now remembered as a day of humiliation.
One from an unknown source....
There were positives however, through the pile of negatives.
Nobody was reported injured, or deceased....
But that also meant the perpetrators weren't found.
"An empty attack? What were they trying to achieve?"
"You don't know? Of course it was to make Eldris look weak. Especially in front of all those foreigners."
All types of theories and opinions sprung on all sorts of media.
The news had published such news for days on end.
"
An immediate reminder for all those present of that day.
"We have to find who is responsible!"
"Mhmm. This can't be swept under. Eldris hasn't had such types of conflict since that time....50 years ago."
In those theories and opinions, with no one to point the finger at....accusations flew.
Neighbouring planets.
"It must have been those rats living on Orvane!"
"They wouldn't dare. Those cowards haven't dared to siege another in centuries."
"That new leader of theirs...I've heard rumours."
The shouts and whispers of the streets did not reach the stone depths of the inner sectors.
Nothing would.
Air tight.
Besides the news of the attack, nothing much was told further.
But there was more to hide...
A secret.
The greatest secret.
If revealed?
Immediate retribution would be demanded on any suspected.
A war.
A necessary response, but did anyone truly want that?
What the public didn't know was that---
it wasn't the attack itself, that was the biggest news.
It was the Princess that had vanished in the midst of it.
---------------------------
BANG!
The echo thundered across the grand chamber, as King Azarel Elyndor's fist slammed the marble desk centred.
Scrolls jumped, lights quaked, as every official in the room froze.
The roars of rumours and speculation were loud.
But nothing was heavier than the silence following the strike.
"How have we not found anything?" His voice lashed through the hall, carrying fury and demanding answers.
"The walls of Auric's heart has been broken, and yet you bring me nothing but silence?!"
A response didn't flow out immediately.
Some officials had their heads bowed, and eyes lowered.
Sitting alongside his father, was Prince Samuel Elyndor.
Although young, his father believed it was important for him to attend such meetings.
Especially this.
"Your Highness," a voice flowed out.
Weighty.
Clipped.
Eyes turned to the side.
"Your Highness, hesitation is poison. The people already named Orvane as the hand behind this. If we do not strike back, if we do not answer in kind. Eldris will look weaker than the rubble left behind. We must bleed them."
Every word carried the weight of command.
The person behind it, was Lord Darren Thalric.
Late sixties, yet his frame still bore the hardness of a soldier. Shoulders squared as if braced for war, even now.
Iron-grey hair cut short, and pale steel eyes that missed nothing.
No scars present across his face.
His cloak was plain, but heavy, the sigil of his house clasped in bronze at his chest.
A wolf devouring a spear.
The chamber seemed to lean into Darren Thalric's words, the weight of war heavy on each officials shoulders.
But then another voice rose, smoother, edged with restraint.
"And if Orvane is not responsible for this? You demand war with no facts?"
The person behind it was Lord Lionel Skorne, tall and broad-shouldered, his presence filled the chamber.
Burnished gold hair streaked with grey caught the light as he leaned, a cloak draped heavy around; the sigil of a beast half-hidden in shadow.
"You truly are a brute, desperate for conflict." he continued.
Darren's jaw clenched, his steel eyes twitching as he turned towards Skorne.
"Facts? You would wait for decrees and ink while our people bury their dead?"
A rough exchange, "Tell me, Lord Skorne, will hesitation shield our borders when Orvane marches again?"
His voice sharpened again, low, drawn with accuracy, "Or is it easier to sit cloaked in shadows, and call caution wisdom?"
Skorne's eyes narrowed as Darren's retort struck like a blade.
The chamber thickened with tension....
"Enough."
The word cracked across the hall as they all observed.
Lady Caelborne sat with measured grace, her dark robes flowing, carved from midnight.
The silver-embroidered crest of her house glinted in the torchlight.
Her hair, raven-dark and drawn back in precise elegance, revealed a face born in calm restraint; neither young nor worn, but sharpened by years of judgement.
She carried the weight of written law, steady and unblinking.
Her fingers rested lightly on the table; a quiet gesture.
As she spoke, her voice didn't rise, but it bent the room.
"This is not a battlefield, Lord Thalric. Neither is it a pit for beasts to bear fangs. This is a crown council. Please act like it."
A silence spread, before Darren grunted.
'Cowards.'
His vision turned to his right.
Sitting with a blank expression was Drevon Voss. That same ashen bronze hair sparkling in the light.
"And what of you, Lord Voss? Will you stay silent while Eldris bleeds? Or do you believe hesitation is wisdom as well?" Darren Thalric asked.
Drevon lifted his chin slightly.
Those dark eyes stared into the air, before his voice relayed.
Calm.
Almost detached.
"Wisdom is knowing which battles are worth fighting. Something I fear you have forgotten, Darren."
A simple response.
Various expressions were born from it.
Nods.
Pressed lips.
A mixture.
Darren's lip curled into a humourless smile.
'Their all the same.'
His next words, followed with venom.
"Bold words for a man whose son is spoken of more as a burden than a blade."
The air sharpened.
What had been debates a beat before, had turned into a silence that could have been snapped in an instant....
Several lords and attenders averted their eyes, as even the torchlight seemed to waver....
Drevon's eyes slowly turned, meeting Darren's.
A grin sported his face.
"Tell me, will you send your son off to---"
The words were cut.
Interjected sharply.
Five words ran through, replaying through multiple ears.
"I don't have a son."
A chill washed over.
Darren almost chuckled.
The scene was indescribable....
But before the chuckle could escape.
BANGG!!
The king's hand slammed the table once more, harder than before.
His crimson eyes burned, sweeping the hall.
"You dare make this a joke?! While my daughter is missing?"
His voice thundered, silencing even the air.
"You sit here clawing at one another, while the Kingdom bleeds..."
"I am the King! Do you not respect me as such?!"
All eyes turned away.
None meeting his.
All but one.
His son, Samuel.
He sat with an indescribable expression, as his pair of red eyes narrowed.
Thoughts hidden.
A silence washed.
The King drew a long, searing breath.
It was then he turned to his adviser.
"Tell me. What do we know?"
The advisor rose, voice steady.
"Only fragments, Your Majesty. During the assault, the princess was last seen within the east wing. She was escorted within the safety of multiple guards.....guards who have since vanished as well. Not one has been accounted for since."
Murmurs flickered through the chamber as unease mounted.
The advisor froze, hesitating before forcing the words:
"Their way out remains unknown. No further breach was found along the palace walls, and none was recorded eluding. The use of advanced magic has been suspected; the likes of teleportation or spatial distortion through talisman use or standard procedure. This was precise. Planned, Your Highness."
The words trailed off as tension hung in the air.
'Planned?'
From the far side of the table, Lady Caelborne's voice cut through, cool and precise.
"Besides the escorts and the Princess, was anyone else unaccounted for?"
An observant question.
The advisor hesitated as eyes turned, intrigued.
He cleared his throat before forcing out, "...Yes, my lady. One student."
"A student?"
Voices spoke out.
"A noble?"
'An insider?'
The murmurs ran and thoughts ran hot.
To cause an attack of this magnitude, it was already deduced it was an inside act.
The disappearance of the guards was a start.
But this?
A student?
The King's gaze darkened, before turning.
"Who?"
The echoes died down as thoughts waited.
A wash of air passed through the room as flames sparked.
Feeling all of the gazes, the advisor quickly glanced down at his parchment.
The words came slow.
"His name is Riven. Riven Brown."