2025-06-27 05:47:48
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Chapter 127: The Unspoken Verdict
Chapter 127: The Unspoken Verdict The Glass Chapel, moments ago a stage for triumph, was now a fractured chamber of chaos. The sight of two identical men—one raging and powerful on his feet, the other frail and unconscious on a stretcher—had completely shattered the court’s carefully maintained composure. The air, thick with perfume and panic, was now humming with an electric current of fear and burgeoning revelation. "Seize the traitor!" the imposter shrieked, his face a mask of primal fury, his voice stripped of Kairo's usual melodic charm. He lunged towards Tate and the stretcher. Lord Varrick and a handful of the most fiercely loyal guards rushed the dais. Varrick, sword drawn, was a shadow of single-minded aggression. But before they could reach them, a formidable figure stepped forward. Queen Alys, her sapphire gown shimmering, placed herself directly between the imposter and the stretcher. Her stillness was more commanding than any shout. "Stop!" Alys commanded, her voice
Chapter 126: The Shattered Mirror
Chapter 126: The Shattered Mirror The deafening scream of the crowd, attesting to the imposter's horrific success, rang through the Grand Chapel. As he raised his goblet in a final, triumphant toast, one shattering shriek, a woman's cry, echoed from the back of the chapel. A black cloud of smoke, smelling of oil burned, erupted from a nearby grille of ventilation. It was a diversion. It was a signal. It was Sheila's game. The imposter's head twitched at the sound, a glint of annoyance and then pure rage in his eyes. He was about to order his guards to dispose of it, but before he could, a fresh sound, a sound of muffled movement, echoed from the back of the throng. There was one man, a man in a scholar's robe, forcing his way through the people, a massive, black shape swathed in a cloak in his arms. He was moving with a wild, desperate urgency, his gaze fixed on the stage. He was Tate. And in his arms, the real Prince Kairo. A wave of confusion swept through the crowd. Whispers, m
Chapter 125: The Serpent's Last Speech
Chapter 125: The Serpent's Last Speech The Glass Chapel, mockery of genius, fell into a cold and silent darkness. The impersonator king, his form rendered by the shimmering, enchanting glass, was at center stage. His black attire, a contrast against the festive wear of the masses, made him look like a war god, a god of brutal order. The silence was his to command, and he relished it. He gazed out over the horde, his glance sweeping the sea of cringing, terror-stricken faces. He saw that they were afraid, that they were cowed, and a shivering, triumphant smile played on his lips. He had them. He had them all. They were a flock of cowering sheep, and he was their master, their shepherd, their butcher. "My friends, my loyal subjects," he began, his voice a low, threatening growl, "tonight we celebrate more than a ball. Tonight we celebrate an end. The end of a hard, dark, long road. We celebrate the end of a past that has overshadowed our kingdom like a pestilence." He paused, lettin
Chapter 124: The Unbearable Wait
Chapter 124: The Unbearable Wait The waiting within the palace was vibrant, a living thing, a suffocating weight upon all who were confined within its walls. The "culinary accident" in the kitchens, quickly brought to order, had burst the thin veneer of normalcy. Guards, their faces tight, hurried with greater urgency, their grumbles of "sabotage" and "uprising" cutting through the tense laughter of the gala. The guests, their smiles frozen masks of fear, clung to their companions, their eyes scanning the room, searching for a glimpse of the concealed peril. Sheila, with her task accomplished in distraction, faded back into the crowd, her own face a guise of pretense. She moved with purpose, her gaze sweeping about for the one individual who could now help them: Queen Alys. She found her standing next to a big, decorated statue of the deceased King, her own face a serene guise of peace, her eyes fixed on the ballroom doors, a silent witness to her unyielding resolve. Sheila approac
Chapter 123: The Trojan Prince
Chapter 123: The Trojan Prince The ball reached its peak, a gilded, sparkling prison of unwilling merriment, but behind the doors of its great halls, a very different game was playing itself out. Tate, in disguise as Curator Arion, and Sheila, disguised as Lady Lyra, navigated through the sea of party guests, a wave of velvet, silk, and pleading eyes. Their hearts thrummed in their chests, the weight of their outrageous plan heavy on their shoulders with each step. Tate, practical as ever, kept his sights on the task: to move the hidden stretcher containing the real Prince Kairo from its antechamber to the inner study. He moved smoothly along, his quiet, academic step, his eyes fixed ahead, his mind a steel trap of information, remembering every palace step, every security entry point, every hidden path. He dragged a large, inlaid trunk, a ceremonial tapestry case, its dark wood and deep carvings an ideal camouflage for its priceless, living burden. He wheeled it with a look of unin
Chapter 122: The Serpent's Grand Entrance
Chapter 122: The Serpent's Grand Entrance The Glass Chapel, itself an affair of light and pretension, was still silent as the chamber orchestra scaled a victorious climax. All eyes, which had been restlessly flitting about the room, were centered now on the grand staircase, where the "Crown Executor" was to make his formal appearance. He stood at its summit, a figure against a background of massive, magically illuminated glass, a figure of absolute power and invincible presence. He was no longer tonight merely "Prince Kairo". He had shed that pose, that pretence of sorrowful control, for something far more terrifying and absolute. He wore the uniform of radiant black and silver, his bodyguard a menacing phalanx of unyielding, impassive men standing at his side. The coiled, sinister serpent sigil, worked in silver across his breast, declared his new loyalty in a chill, chattering assertion. His once so carefully wrought face, so skillfully made to imitate the Prince's, now wore a mas
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