[Imperial Palace—Eastern Reception Chamber—Late Morning—Continuation]
For several moments, neither man spoke.
The golden light filtering through the latticed windows fell across the cedarwood table, illuminating the parchment between them. Malik’s amber eyes remained fixed upon Vaerun, while the Azram sat opposite him, his expression as still as the waters of a temple basin.
At last, Malik extended his hand.
"Let me see it."
Vaerun reached beneath his dark robes and withdrew a folded parchment. He placed it upon the table without ceremony.
Malik unfolded it; his eyes travelled across the rows of cuneiform markings, the recorded figures, and the authorization inscribed near the bottom. When he reached the seal pressed into the clay, his fingers stopped.
The Imperial Seal: the seven sacred markings encircled the royal crest, each impression distinct and precise. It was the seal of the throne, entrusted to the Malik alone and guarded within the innermost chambers of the palace.
Malik’s expression did not change, but the air in the chamber grew heavier.
"Where was this recovered?"
"Among the possessions of Kassur Nabu."
"How many?"
"Three."
Malik’s gaze lifted.
"All bearing my seal?"
"All three."
He examined the parchment once more before setting it upon the table. "Who examined them?"
"The House Nabu itself."
. . .
. . .
"And their findings?"
"The impressions are genuine."
Silence followed.
Malik rested one hand upon the arm of his seat, his fingers moving once against the carved lapis. His gaze remained upon the parchment.
"I did not grant this authorization."
Vaerun regarded him without interruption. "I imagined as much."
"Then why bring it before me?"
"Because an Imperial Seal has been found upon documents concerning the unlawful use of children’s Aether Cores. I would have Malik’s answer before deciding what is to be done."
Malik’s eyes rose slowly. "Mind your words, Azram. You stand before the throne of Eshkaran, not before one of your lesser lords."
Vaerun did not lower his gaze.
"And you sit before a man whom you gave a free hand and has never mistaken a crown for proof of innocence."
The silence that followed was absolute.
A lesser noble might have trembled beneath Malik’s displeasure. Vaerun Veyrath merely reached for his cup. For a long moment, Malik studied him, then the corner of his mouth moved, though no warmth entered his eyes.
"Your tongue remains as sharp as ever."
"It has served me well."
"Indeed."
Malik returned his attention to the parchment. "These accounts were not issued through the Imperial Treasury."
Vaerun’s silver eyes narrowed slightly. "You recognize the markings?"
"The authorization numbers are false. Every decree concerning the release of such sums is recorded upon the bronze tablets of the Treasury. The figures on this parchment follow no recognized sequence."
He turned the document towards the light.
"Someone has copied the form of an Imperial authorization and placed my seal upon it."
"Yet the seal itself is genuine."
"That is what troubles me."
Malik’s fingers rested beside the impression.
The Imperial Seal was not a mere ornament pressed into clay to satisfy the vanity of scribes. It was the authority of the throne made tangible. Its use was governed by ancient law, and even the highest ministers could not command it without the Malik’s knowledge.
Someone had reached into the heart of his palace and had done so without his leave.
"Whoever prepared these documents possessed knowledge of the Imperial archives," Malik said. "They knew the form of our decrees, the manner in which the Treasury records its offerings, and the placement of the royal seal."
"Which narrows the circle."
"Or proves that the hand responsible has been within my walls for a considerable time."
Vaerun placed his cup upon the table.
"Kassur believes these parchments are proof of your involvement."
"Kassur believes what serves his purpose."
"Then you believe he knows the seal was misused?"
Malik’s gaze sharpened.
"I believe Kassur Nabu is not a man who would carry such evidence before the assembled houses without first weighing the consequences. He intended to strike at the throne, and he chose the hour when every noble and temple representative would bear witness."
"Yet his speech was interrupted." For the first time, a faint shadow of irritation crossed Malik’s face.
"An interruption I have no intention of allowing to become a habit."
Vaerun’s expression remained unchanged.
"Had he spoken, the accusation would have spread beyond the palace before the sun had crossed the western horizon and the houses would have begun choosing sides before the first temple bell sounded."
Malik leaned back.
"An accusation against the Malik is not merely an accusation against a man. It is an accusation against the order upon which the empire stands." His amber eyes returned to the parchment. "Even a false charge can set a province aflame."
"Then we should discover who intends to light the fire."
Malik’s gaze met his.
"Agreed."
A brief silence settled between them.
Beyond the chamber, the palace continued its daily rhythm. Servants carried vessels of polished bronze through the corridors, scribes hurried between the archive chambers, and the distant temple bells marked the passing of the morning.
Within the reception chamber, however, the matter before the two men had grown far darker.
"Tell me, Azram," Malik said at last. "Do you believe Kassur is the hand behind these experiments?"
"I believe he has gathered evidence concerning them. Whether he commands the operation, intends to expose it, or means to use it against the throne remains uncertain."
"And you trust him?"
"No."
"Good. It would have disappointed me had you become so easily deceived."
Vaerun’s gaze did not waver.
"Trust is not required to recognize a threat."
A faint, humorless smile touched Malik’s lips. "Spoken like the master of House Veyrath."
He reached for the second parchment.
"How long has Kassur been gathering these records?"
"I do not know, but he had more than the three parchments. His possession included references to a hidden facility beyond the eastern districts, records of children subjected to Aether Core examinations, and a trail of payments connected to the Imperial Treasury."
Malik’s expression darkened.
"Do you believe Kassur is planning something against the throne?"
Vaerun’s silver eyes shifted towards him. For a moment, he said nothing. He studied the Emperor’s face, taking in the faint tension between his brows and the cold determination in his amber eyes, then, without changing his expression, he answered.
"I will not let anything happen to you."
The words were quiet; there was no elaborate oath, no ceremonial pledge, nor any attempt to dress the promise in the language of courtly loyalty.
Yet they settled between them with a weight neither man seemed prepared for. Malik’s fingers flinched against the armrest, his heart gave an unexpected thud, and for one fleeting moment, he simply stared at the Azram.
Vaerun had said it so naturally, as though protecting him were an unquestionable matter, as though the safety of the Malik were something he had already decided to place upon his own shoulders.
Malik’s gaze lingered on him.
Yesterday’s accident had been an unfortunate occurrence. He had already resolved to put the matter behind him, to bury whatever feelings remained and continue as he always had.
He had spent too many years loving a man who had never asked for his affection; he would not force him again, and yet, after that single, careless collision, his heart had become terribly disobedient.
He looked away first.
"I... see."
The words came out quieter than intended.
Malik reached for his cup, though the tea had long since cooled. He lifted it to his lips, using the movement to conceal the faint warmth creeping across his cheeks.
Across the table, Vaerun remained silent; his gaze had not left Malik.
He had seen Malik’s fingers move. He had noticed the brief hesitation before the man looked away. And, strangely, his attention had begun to wander towards details he had never considered worth noticing before.
The slight crease between Malik’s brows.
The elegant bridge of his nose, lending a sharpness to his otherwise finely sculpted features. His amber eyes, usually so commanding that even the oldest nobles struggled to meet them, held a peculiar warmth beneath their formidable gaze. A few dark strands had fallen carelessly across his forehead, softening the severity of his appearance.
And his cheeks...rhere was still a faint flush upon them.
Vaerun’s eyes lingered; the Malik of Eshkaran was undoubtedly a beautiful man.
He had always possessed an imposing presence, but there was something particularly striking about him in the quiet of the chamber, away from the assembled court and the weight of his crown. His features were refined, his lips naturally full, and the faint color upon them seemed almost unfairly distracting.
Vaerun’s gaze lowered, his mind, quite unhelpfully, returned to yesterday. The brief collision, the startled breath, and the warmth against his lips.
He remembered it with a clarity that was beginning to irritate him and mumbled.
"They were soft..."
Malik paused.
"What?"
Vaerun blinked, and in a very long while, the Silent Tempest appeared to have misplaced his words.
"I..."
He cleared his throat. Malik’s amber eyes narrowed.
"What were you saying, Azram?"
"Nothing of importance."
Vaerun looked towards the parchment, suddenly finding the Imperial seal far more deserving of his attention.
"I was considering the matter of the eastern districts."
Malik stared at him.
"The eastern districts?"
"Yes."
A brief pause followed. Vaerun rose from his seat and straightened the folds of his dark robes. "I should see where Seyra is before she creates another disturbance within your palace."
For a moment, Malik simply regarded him, then his gaze drifted towards the closed doors.
"Oh...alright."
Vaerun inclined his head. "Then I shall take my leave, Your Majesty."
Malik nodded and Vaerun walked turned towards the doors.
The doors closed behind him and Malik remained seated, his fingers resting against the rim of his cup.
For several moments, he did not move, then he slowly raised his hand and touched his cheek, his amber gaze fixed upon the empty space where Vaerun had been sitting.
"...Seven Guardians," he murmured.
He had thought letting go would make things easier, apparently, the heavens had other intentions because...Seyra may not create a trouble, but...The Azhar, the guardian of Fire is ready to form a contract with her.