The Duchess did not shout.
That alone terrified the room.
Aureline stood at the head of the council chamber, hands resting lightly on the polished table, posture immaculate. Every advisor present understood the difference between her raised voice and her quiet one.
The quiet meant calculation was finished.
"Seal the outer gates," she said calmly. "Not closed. Controlled. Anyone entering or leaving is logged."
A few heads snapped up.
"Your Grace," one councilor ventured, "that will cause panic—"
"It will cause accountability," Aureline replied without looking at him. "If panic follows, that is the fault of those who manufactured it."
She turned her gaze to the Watch Commander, who straightened instinctively. "I want the names of every officer involved in tonight's attempted detainment. Cross-reference them with emergency authorization requests made this week."
The commander swallowed. "Yes, Your Grace."
"And rescind any emergency powers not signed directly by me," Aureline continued. "Immediately."
A clerk hesitated. "There will be objections."
"I expect them," Aureline said. "Log them."
She moved at last, circling the table slowly. "Someone attempted to turn my city into a hunting ground. I will not reward that behavior."
Her eyes hardened.
"And if any noble believes they can hide behind procedure while provoking bloodshed—remind them that procedure answers to sovereignty."
No one spoke.
That was the point.
---
Across the city, Varros applauded softly.
He stood in a private gallery overlooking a different square—this one filled with torches, banners, and carefully positioned witnesses. He had arranged it himself, of course. The lighting. The acoustics. The crowd density.
The narrative.
"Marvelous," he murmured. "She's sharper than I gave her credit for."
A man beside him—Lord Halvren's former deputy, pale and sweating—glanced nervously at the scene below. "My lord, are you certain this is wise? If the Duchess pushes back too hard—"
"Oh, she will," Varros said pleasantly. "That's why this works."
Below, a platform had been erected hastily. On it stood a guild mage—young, terrified, and utterly unprepared for the role he'd been assigned.
A scapegoat.
Varros leaned forward, interest bright in his eyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the herald announced, voice echoing, "we are gathered to address the misuse of magical force during the recent unrest—"
The crowd murmured. Anger simmered. Fear crackled.
Varros had not chosen a villain.
He had chosen a lesson.
The mage was made to kneel. Accusations were read—carefully worded, vague enough to implicate, specific enough to stain. No trial. No defense.
Public order required sacrifice.
Varros smiled.
"Watch," he whispered to no one in particular. "They'll beg for restraint next."
---
In the undercity, Aiden couldn't stop shaking.
Not violently. Not obviously. Just enough that he felt it in his bones.
"They're blaming someone else," he said hoarsely. "Because of me."
Seris tightened her jaw. "Because of fear."
"That doesn't make it better."
"No," she admitted. "It makes it human."
Liora paced nearby, restless, eyes flicking toward the tunnel entrance. She felt it again—that pressure, that wrongness. Like something circling overhead, waiting.
"They're not done," she said quietly.
Seris nodded. "Neither is the Duchess."
Aiden looked up. "You think she can stop this?"
Seris hesitated.
"I think she can slow it," she said honestly. "Enough for us to matter."
That terrified him more than anything else.
---
Back above, Aureline received the second report.
Her aide read it aloud with visible discomfort. "Public disciplinary action against a guild mage. No warrant. No tribunal."
Aureline's fingers curled slightly.
"Varros," she said softly.
"Yes, Your Grace."
She turned toward the window, watching torchlight flicker in the distance. "He wants me to intervene publicly. To look like I'm protecting miracles."
"Yes."
She smiled faintly. "Then I won't."
The aide blinked. "You… won't?"
"I'll protect process," Aureline said. "And in doing so, I'll expose him."
She turned back, eyes sharp.
"Draft an edict," she ordered. "Temporary suspension of public disciplinary actions without full tribunal oversight. Retroactive."
"That will invalidate—"
"Exactly."
Her gaze hardened. "And issue warrants for those who authorized tonight's spectacle."
The aide hesitated. "That includes nobles."
Aureline leaned forward, voice low. "Especially nobles."
---
Varros learned of the edict an hour later.
He laughed.
"Oh, clever girl," he said approvingly. "Very clever."
The noble beside him paled. "My lord, if she arrests—"
"Then she legitimizes herself," Varros interrupted. "And if she doesn't, she legitimizes me."
He clasped his hands behind his back, gaze distant.
"Either way," he continued, "the city watches. And watching creates loyalty."
He glanced down at the kneeling mage, now being dragged away.
"Pity," Varros said lightly. "He would have made an excellent martyr."
He turned from the balcony.
"Prepare the next act," he ordered. "If the Duchess wants law, we'll give her law. So much law it suffocates her."
---
That night, the city did not sleep.
Arguments echoed through taverns and temples alike. Some praised the Duchess for restoring order. Others whispered that she was protecting dangerous forces.
Aiden lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
"I don't want this," he whispered.
Seris sat nearby, boots off, armor loosened, just a woman now. "I know."
"But it keeps happening."
"Yes," she said. "Because you exist."
He laughed weakly. "That seems unfair."
She met his gaze. "Welcome to politics."
He turned onto his side, wings folding tight.
"Do you think Varros enjoys this?" he asked quietly.
Seris didn't hesitate. "Yes."
That chilled him.
---
Above them all, unseen, Caelum watched the city twist itself into sharper shapes.
"Oh, this is excellent," he murmured, thoroughly amused. "She strikes. He counters. And the boy trembles between them."
His smile widened.
"Now," he said softly, "let's see who bleeds first."
The game had entered its second phase.
And this time—
everyone was playing.
---