General Fallacy Elorn sat motionless among the screaming nobles, the chaos below reflected in his calm, wine-dark eyes.
He didn't flinch when the first explosion hit. He didn't move when the arena cracked open like a dying beast. He simply watched silent, poised, expression unreadable.
Exactly as expected.
The Order's strike had begun.
For months, the Empire's golden general had orchestrated this moment under the guise of loyalty, quietly feeding information to the Order of Nowhere, positioning the assassins, ensuring the perfect chaos to cripple the royal image.
The prince would die. The people would panic. And the cracks in the Empire would widen.
He had accounted for almost everything.
Almost.
So she really came after all, he thought, watching the black-haired woman standing amidst the storm.
Belle Ardent.
The Reaper of Humanity.
