Chapter 7: Fire Beneath the Masks
The echoes of scandal still lingered from the night before as dawn painted the Davian estate in a cold silver light. Aurelius watched from the highest terrace, mind replaying the masquerade's events—the public unmasking of a saboteur, the rigid set of Duke Wesker's jaw, and the stabbing undertones of every compliment whispered behind a mask.
In the grand hall below, his council gathered. Calista entered first, shoulders squared against exhaustion, followed by Sir Lucien and the Duchess—her eyes sharp with pride and warning both.
Aurelius spoke, his voice measured. "The masquerade was a battlefield, not a festival. Every mask concealed ambition or fear. Our next moves will echo across all of Eloria."
Reports arrived thick and fast:
The would-be traitor from Wesker's house had vanished en route to the city dungeon—a clear message that enemies moved even in the shadows of justice.
The people of Oakwood Hamlet, once victim to bandits, had rallied behind House Davian, singing Aurelius's name in the marketplaces.
New rumors began to swirl: some painted Aurelius as a hero of gold and mercy, others as a sorcerer seeking to buy the kingdom itself.
Aurelius pondered each report, noting the swirl of public opinion. He summoned his system's [World-Building Authority], reading not just the flow of gold but the intangible bonds of trust—or suspicion—linking every player in the courtly web.
He issued swift orders:
Send envoys to Oakwood, ensuring the people's gratitude became loyalty, not mere relief.
Have Calista's mages trace the vanished saboteur's magical signature—no loose ends would be tolerated.
Approve donations to orphanages in three major cities, turning the people's gossip toward House Davian's benevolence.
As they worked, a missive arrived, its seal unbroken but its parchment warm as if just conjured: an invitation from the Royal Court. The King himself demanded Aurelius's presence at council, to "clarify" the estate's sudden rise to glory.
Aurelius's mother looked at him, voice careful. "They fear what they don't control. That will never change, no matter how much gold you wield."
He smiled slightly. "Let them see what gold—guided by purpose—can accomplish."
Night fell. In his private chambers, Aurelius studied his own reflection—the youth of royal blood, the mind of a worldlier soul. He traced the edge of Sunshatter, feeling the convergence of two destinies: Kaito Ren's restless ambition, and Aurelius Davian's blazing path.
The world outside was a masquerade still. But with every mask stripped away, every false alliance unmade, he found himself growing not just stronger, but hungrier—for change, for legacy, for something no gold could buy.
He closed his eyes, planning how he would meet the King—and what truths he would dare reveal, mask or no.
To be continued...