Chapter 10 - The Sovereign’s Return
Silas turned his head slightly toward the head of security.
"Clear the hall of the excess," Silas ordered quietly. "Strip Marcus and Celeste of their credentials. They leave the estate tonight with nothing but the clothes on their backs."
Marcus opened his mouth to scream, to bargain, to fight, but two massive guards stepped up on either side of him, grabbing him under the shoulders and dragging him backward off the floor. Celeste wept hysterically as she was escorted away, her emerald dress trailing champagne and dirt across the polished floor she had sought to dominate.
The remaining elders in the room raised their glasses in silent, unanimous salute as Silas walked slowly toward the head of the long dining table—the central seat that had remained empty all evening.
He pulled back the heavy carved armchair and sat down at the head of the room, resting his gloved hands on the dark wood. The party resumed around him, but the air was fundamentally changed. The balance of power in the nation had shifted in a single evening.
As the music faded softly back into the background, a young courier in a sharp black suit approached the table, bowing low before handing Silas a thick, wax-sealed manila envelope stamped with a crest that had not been seen since 1945.
Silas picked up a silver letter opener, breaking the seal without a word. Inside was a single black-and-white photograph and a hand-written note containing only four words.
May you like
Silas’s eyes narrowed slightly as he read the message, a slow, cold smile appearing on his face. He burned the paper over a candle flame and let the ashes fall into his glass.
The world thought the war was over. In truth, it was only just beginning.
