"Get out of that seat."
Crimson's voice cut across the chamber like a drawn blade.
Hatzia Apoty looked up from where he'd casually lowered himself into one of the Leywin chairs — not hers, but close enough to spark something ancient in her blood.
He tilted his head. "I wasn't aware this table still had rules."
"It does," she replied coldly, stepping forward. "And one of them is strangers don't sit among blood."
Hatzia's smile didn't fade. "You're assuming I'm a stranger."
"I don't know you," Crimson said, her voice low, tight. "And that's enough for me."
Raphael tensed. "Crimson…."
She raised a hand, silencing him. Her eyes stayed locked on Hatzia.
"Stand," she ordered.
Hatzia met her stare. "Or what?"
The air shifted.
A faint shimmer ignited around her, heat and cold at once, Ice and fire crackling to life. The shadows near her feet distorted, twisting outward like claws. Her coat lifted slightly from the force of the energy pouring off her body.
"You don't belong here," she said.
"I never claimed I did," Hatzia replied evenly.
Crimson stepped forward then froze.
Every fiber of her body screamed at her to stop. Her abilities, once flaring in pride, now recoiled. The flame bent inward. The ice trembled.
A pulse of… something wrapped around her ribs. Not physical. Not visible.
But real.
Her next breath was shallow.
And the realization struck her all at once…
If I move, I die.
It wasn't fear. She'd faced death before. But this was different.
This was certainty.
She looked at Hatzia again.
Still seated and smiling.
But now she saw it, beneath the stillness. Control. Like he was allowing the moment to continue just long enough to make a point.
Hatzia leaned back in the chair slightly.
"Now," he said softly, "should we discuss the kingdom?"
Crimson stepped back slowly. Her energy faded like a match snuffed mid-burn.
She didn't sit.
But she didn't strike again either.
The room remained silent as Hatzia adjusted his collar and rested one arm on the table.
"Again with the silence," Hatzia said, leaning back in his chair. "You people really do know how to brood."
Velia's eyes didn't rise from her wine. "We're thinking."
"Are you?" Hatzia mused. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like every Leywin here is stuck in the past, trying to decide whether I'm an insult or a prophecy."
Raphael sighed from the far end of the table. "You're definitely the first."
"Good," Hatzia replied. "I'd hate to be obvious."
Lord Alaric tapped his cane once, silencing the room.
"You were going to speak of the kingdom," he said.
Hatzia's eyes gleamed. "Ah yes. Your precious Lunaris."
He stood slowly, stepping toward the wide glass window behind the head of the chamber. Outside, the cliffs overlooked the sharp division of the land, one side bathed in perpetual golden light, the other blanketed in violet dusk.
"A kingdom born from division," Hatzia said, hands clasped behind his back. "It was once said that Lunaria, the eternal being, not the land, carved this kingdom as a trial. A test of balance."
No one interrupted him.
"Two cities, one throne," he continued. "Daylight, the city that never sleeps… because its people are always watching, always consuming. Power and polish. Gold-laced corruption with a sun-kissed grin."
His gaze shifted slightly.
"And Twilight, the sleeping city. The hidden one. Where machines breathe and ideas rot slowly in the dark. Where those without power huddle beneath the moon and call it freedom."
Crimson's eyes narrowed. "That's a romantic way of describing poverty."
Hatzia smirked. "Romance and rebellion are the same thing in Twilight."
He turned now, walking toward the center of the room.
"Lunaris Kingdom. A medieval world caught between swords and steam. Only one thing made it different than the others that came before…"
"Abilities," Raphael finished.
"Exactly," Hatzia said. "Gifts. Blessings. Curses. Call them what you like. Some are born with them. Most are not."
"And those who aren't," Velia said flatly, "are left to rot in Twilight."
"Or to serve in Daylight," Crimson added.
"A harsh truth," Hatzia agreed, with no remorse in his tone. "But truth nonetheless."
He began pacing around the chamber's long table now, slowly.
"Mechanics in Twilight have begun to change. They build things now. Things that bite. That shoot. That even shield. It's primitive… but it's clever. Survival always is."
"And what of Aerenthal?" Alaric asked quietly.
Hatzia's smile widened. "Ah, Aerenthal. The Capital. The eye of the kingdom. It pretends to unify both cities, but even the bricks on its border are laid in gold on one side and soot on the other."
He stopped behind Crimson.
"The capital stands where both cities meet, but it bends toward Daylight. Because that's where the power lives."
"No," Crimson corrected, coldly. "That's where the throne hides."
Hatzia chuckled. "Semantics."
"And what of the Enforcers?" Raphael asked, voice tighter now. "What of the ones still loyal to the Crown?"
"Enforcers…" Hatzia mused. "The sword of the royal family. Feared. Obeyed. Revered."
He circled behind Raphael now.
"They're the kingdom's perfect hounds. Untouchable by barons, above governors. Pure in duty. But the leash is tight — and the rules are cruel."
He looked at Raphael directly. "No love. No ambition. Break the code, and you're given to the one who caught you. Bound. Eternally."
Crimson muttered, "Slavery in gold armor."
"No," Hatzia corrected. "Slavery in loyalty. Which is worse, depending on the heart."
The room grew quiet.
Alaric, still seated at the head, finally broke the silence.
"And where do you stand in all this, Hatzia Apoty?"
Hatzia's smirk didn't falter. But his voice lost its playfulness.
"I don't stand," he said. "I watch. And when the walls start to fall, I'll be standing where the last bricks don't land."
Velia leaned forward, fingers steepled.
"So you believe this kingdom will fall?"
"No," Hatzia said.
"I know it will."