The heavy doors of the royal meeting chamber swung open with a deep, echoing creak. Every noble present rose from their seats in unison, heads bowed in reverence.
A wave of silence swept through the hall.
King Augustus entered with regal poise, each step echoing against the polished marble floor. Cloaked in deep sapphire and crowned with gold, he carried the weight of the kingdom in his presence alone.
"Greetings, Your Majesty!" the council chorused, voices blending like a ceremonial hymn.
The King paused at the head of the table, his eyes calmly scanning the faces of his gathered councilors. With a slight nod, he moved toward his ornate seat — carved from obsidian wood and marked with the crest of Obelion.
As he sat down with deliberate grace, he spoke in a firm, commanding tone:
"Be seated."
At his word, the nobles lowered themselves onto their chairs, the rustle of robes and armor the only sound breaking the silence.
One council member rose to his feet, his voice trembling with concern yet firm with protest.
"Your Majesty! We cannot simply sit idle. We cannot lose our only hope — the sun of our kingdom must not set so soon. Please, I beg you, grant us permission to search for our Crown Prince!"
Before the words could settle, the minister stood sharply, his voice clipped and stern.
"Mind your tone!" he warned. "If His Majesty has made such a decision, it is for the greater good. Do not forget your place — do not cross the line."
Yet another voice rose — that of the commander, calm but resolute.
"We understand your concern, Minister, but what shall we tell the people? What if… something unforeseen befalls the Prince on his journey? He is our last beacon of hope."
He bowed his head respectfully before continuing.
"At the very least, allow us to follow at a distance — to guard him from danger. Please, Your Majesty… reconsider."
The royal chamber erupted into a storm of clashing voices.
Some council members argued.
Some yelled, their loyalty driving their passion.
Others defended the King's silence.
A few sat in quiet protest, their faces grave and worried.
And a few more… well, they watched in silence, their eyes gleaming — always waiting for opportunity in chaos.
The grand hall trembled with noise — voices rising, tempers flaring, fears colliding with loyalty.
But then…
A single movement from the throne silenced them all.
King Augustus, robed in regal black and gold, rose slowly to his feet.
The years of war, sacrifice, and leadership sat heavy upon his shoulders — but his eyes… they still held the fire of a father, and the steel of a king.
He spoke.
"I hear your cries."
His voice was deep, commanding, yet laced with quiet sorrow.
"Not as a king… but as a father who watches the storm swallow his own flesh and blood."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep over the gathered council.
"My son did not leave in weakness. He chose the path of fire — to walk through shadow in search of light. Would you chase him, and snatch his trial away from him? Will we, in our fear, become the very chains he seeks to break?"
He stepped forward.
"Each of you speaks from the heart — and I honour that."
"But a true king is not protected by guards. He is forged by struggle. By pain. By the weight of choice."
The hall was silent.
Then, softer now:
"Still… I am not blind to danger. Let the Wind Guard follow from afar — silent shadows only if needed. No interference unless fate begins to bleed."
He turned, his voice once again becoming that of the monarch they had always followed.
"This meeting is adjourned. Hold your faith. And remember… the sun does not set."
Once again, the council members bowed their heads — not just in loyalty to the king, but in silent reverence to a father whose heart was at war with duty.
The grand doors of the royal chamber closed behind them with a solemn echo, sealing away words heavy with uncertainty.
But one man's silence held more weight than all the protests combined.
Commander Revas stood motionless, his gaze fixed — not on the king, but on Minister Edrew.
The very Edrew who once spared no effort to secure a royal future for his daughter — a future bound to Crown Prince Octavio.
And now?
Now he stood unwavering beside the king's decision… to let Octavio disappear into the unknown, alone.
Too calm. Too compliant.
Revas's brows drew together beneath his silver helm.
"He's not the type to bow without a reason… unless the winds already favor him."
His boots echoed in the corridor as he exited the hall, yet his mind raced faster than his steps.
"What would Edrew gain from this?"
The commander clenched his jaw.
He had seen this pattern before — quiet ambition hiding beneath loyal words.
His hand brushed the hilt of his blade — not in threat, but as if seeking steel to anchor thought.
"If Prince Octavio never returns… who benefits?"
His suspicions were no longer whispers — they were alarms.
And without waiting for permission or approval, Revas knew what he had to do.
He would find the truth — before Edrew found the throne.