The atmosphere within the Conclave's Great Hall was heavy not with the scent of magical ozone or disciplined austerity, but with icy fury. The destruction of the Altar of Memories had dealt a direct blow to Aethelgard's morale and historical heritage.
Ren stood before Grand Commander Valerius, whose marble-like countenance was, for the first time, contorted by unbridled anger. Beside him, the Council of Inquisitors and the High Arcanist awaited the impending verdict.
"It is an act of war, Commander!" Valerius thundered. "The Altar has been destroyed, and the magical signature... the signature does not belong to the Shadow. It belongs to the Free Elemental Mages! How did they infiltrate the heart of our capital?"
The political chaos was palpable. Ren's plan, meticulously executed through Lyra, had functioned with flawless precision: the Conclave was now fixated upon the wrong enemy, precipitating a schism among the factions aligned with the Light.
Ren maintained an aura of composed equanimity. His golden armor gleamed beneath the hall's luminescent fixtures, epitomizing the quintessential Paladin.
"The evidence furnished by the Archives Custody is irrefutable, Grand Commander," Ren enunciated, his voice calibrated to convey measured deception. "The terrorism perpetrated by the Elemental Mages has long been underestimated. They have capitalized on our preoccupation with the Ash Queen to assault our cultural patrimony."
Lyra, the Elf, flanked by two Paladins, presented herself before the Council. Though her heart raced with terror, her newly acquired stature and fear of Ren compelled her to project absolute froideur.
"We have scrutinized the protocols," Lyra explained, articulating the half-truth Ren had dictated. "The elemental signature could not have breached the Exterior Barrier. My analysis indicates that the magic was internally injected into the Altar by an arcanist sympathizer of the rebels, who subsequently escaped."
The High Arcanist, long suspicious of Ren, interposed himself.
"And who furnished you this intelligence, Commander? The same individual who failed to secure the capture of the specter?"
"The information was provided by Custodian Lyra, Arcanist," Ren countered swiftly, leveraging his military authority. "And the specter's leakage was demonstrably caused by the individual treachery of Inquisitor Vane." Ren adroitly curtailed further rebuttal.
"Nonetheless, this incident unveils a graver truth: our internal security apparatus is antiquated. We have over-focused on dark magic, neglecting the insidious venom festering within our own walls."
Ren played his ultimate card – the true objective underlying his mission: ascension to paramount power.
"I propose that the Arcanist Security Command be consolidated under the singular authority of an individual empowered to enact swift, unencumbered decisions. A position guaranteeing unwavering loyalty and eradicating infiltration."
Valerius leaned back in his seat. The Grand Commander was ensnared. The sole means of quelling the crisis and restoring confidence lay in vesting control in the most popular, and ostensibly efficacious, Paladin.
"Commander Ren," Valerius pronounced, his voice harsh. "You are hereby elevated to the position of Master of Shields of Aethelgard. You shall wield absolute authority over all barriers, security protocols, and internal archives. Should such chaos recur, I shall hold you personally accountable."
Ren inclined his head, his triumph complete. He had ascended to supreme power within the Conclave, under the aegis of the very Ash Queen who had enslaved him.
Lyra had elevated him, and now he shielded her, consolidating his web of influence.
The Shadow's Tug
Hours later, Ren found himself solitary in his Commander quarters, savoring the cold solitude of his victory. He divested himself of the Paladin's mask.
Now he was the Master of Shields – the paramount figure charged with defending the capital's security.
He occupied the ideal position to further the Queen's sabotage, all while contemplating strategies to usurp his brother.
He focused upon the Ash Bond. The Queen's silent tug no longer conveyed mere satisfaction to Ren. He sensed something more – a sensation that chilled his very marrow.
The Bond vibrated with a dual energy. It was not merely the Queen's cold Shadow or the unstable Chaos he had encountered.
It was a puissant pulse of Forged Light, yet imbued with a subtle, toxic distortion perceptible only to an Elite Paladin.
Kaito.
The pulse was strong, proximate. It was not a mere mental linkage; it was the signature of one utilizing Forged Light Magic, albeit with a malignant, aberrant intent.
Kaito's Infiltration Cloak was not engineered to deceive sensors, but to penetrate his brother's very.
Ren approached the window, gazing upon the capital's expansive vista.
Kaito was not far distant.
He was returning – not as a captive, but as a weapon forged within the crucible of darkness.
Ren's political machinations had reached their terminus.
The fraternal war was poised to assume a personal dimension, unfolding within the very territory he had sworn to protect.
Ren has ascended.
Kaito has arrived.
The stage is set.