The city pulsed with life beneath banners of deep crimson and silver. The Festival of Unity, long delayed by war and political strife, now blazed into motion, gilding the empire's capital in firelight and illusion. Dancers spun in silks that caught the torchlight like water. Musicians flooded the streets with pulsing rhythms. Crowds of nobility and citizenry alike gathered to forget—if only for a night—that the empire teetered on the edge of something dangerous.
Cassian stood on the high balcony of the palace's grand courtyard, draped in a formal cloak of midnight blue, silver-threaded embroidery glinting across his shoulders. Beside him, Riven wore obsidian armor polished to a sheen, his sword at his hip despite the occasion's supposed peace. Their presence was symbolic: the ruler and his champion, united, unbroken.
Below, a masked procession wound through the courtyard. Dancers in feathered masks of peacocks and ravens, lions and stags, moved in rhythmic harmony. But Cassian's eyes weren't on the display. They were on the nobles lining the tiered platforms, watching him. Judging. Weighing. Testing the strength of the crown.
Riven leaned in. "You're sweating."
Cassian smirked. "It's the cloak."
"It's the enemies."
Cassian's smile faded.
From the southern platform, Lord Tharos of Cindervale stepped forward. Dressed in pale violet robes and a porcelain mask, he raised a goblet high. "A toast!" he declared, his voice magically amplified. "To the peace forged in blood and kept by power!"
The crowd murmured, then clapped politely. But the tone was off. Too sharp. Too performative.
Tharos turned, staring directly at Cassian. "And to the ruler who claims loyalty while denying his oldest allies the right to their ancestral lands."
Silence fell. The music halted. All eyes turned.
Riven's fingers tensed on the hilt of his blade.
Cassian stepped forward, his voice cold and clear. "Your words walk a dangerous line, Lord Tharos."
Tharos removed his mask. "Let them. I walk it willingly."
The crowd erupted in chaos—some shouting, others backing away. Loyalists surged toward the platform, while dissenters began shouting their support. The delicate mask of the festival shattered.
In the confusion, masked figures moved toward the dais.
Riven stepped in front of Cassian just as the first blade was drawn.