The morning sun in the capital didn’t hit the windows with the same sharp, freezing brightness as it did in the North. Here, the light felt heavier somehow, dulled by the constant haze hanging over a city that apparently had no concept of rest.

Cherion stood in the middle of the drawing room, posture perfectly straight as he slowly turned in place. He wasn’t practicing his healing magic or preparing some dramatic speech.

No.

He was practicing dance steps.

Cherion couldn’t help but reflect on his routine. Despite the change of scenery, his daily life wasn’t actually that much different from his time in the North.

"Left foot back, Lord Cherion," Reiner instructed from the side of the room, arms crossed as he watched with the focus of a man supervising military training instead of ballroom dancing. "And remember to keep your chin slightly higher. Nobles take pride in looking down on others, you shouldn’t give them the angle to do so."

"Like this?" Cherion adjusted his stance, smoothly transitioning into the next sequence. He paused, exhaling a quiet sigh as he wiped a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

He paused, exhaling a quiet sigh as he wiped a stray lock of hair from his forehead. It truly was exhausting. He had been spending so much time relearning the names of the nobles he needed to know, purely because it wouldn’t be funny if he had to meet someone at the party and accidentally say, ’Who are you again?’ to a high-ranking noble.

It wasn’t about the embarrassment, it was about the immediate suspicion everyone would start throwing around afterward. The OG Cherion was supposed to know these people. A simple slip of memory like that would instantly make the sharp capital court question who he really was, a risk he couldn’t afford to take.

One wrong name and suddenly the capital nobles would start acting like they were uncovering some massive secret identity scandal.

Or he could just pretend to have terrible memory loss. Honestly, that might be worth keeping as a backup plan.

Cherion wandered over to the side table and picked up the parchment map detailing the capital’s political factions. His eyes scanned the names, though his thoughts drifted somewhere much heavier instead.

Zarius’s curse.

Though he still placed his bet that a certain person with ’Y’ as their initial was ultimately responsible for Zarius’s curse, but suspicion alone meant nothing in the capital. Acting too quickly here was basically equivalent to digging your own grave. There was always a distinct possibility that it was someone else entirely.

Who knows, really? The true culprit could be hiding behind a mask of complete innocence, letting others take the blame. Power struggles were messy like that. Until he had absolute, undeniable proof, he had to keep his suspicions guarded.

"Reiner," Cherion murmured, tapping the parchment. "Remind me again. From this specific cluster of families... who exactly are the ones who don’t like Zarius?"

"The faction led by Marquis Valmere remains the loudest in their opposition, My Lord," Ezek, who stood guard in the corner, answered smoothly, intentionally stepping into Reiner’s line of sight. "They view the Duke’s military influence as a direct threat to their administrative power."

Reiner’s eyes narrowed slightly as he stepped forward, his voice dropping an octave. "I believe the question was directed at me, Ezek. And you’re blocking the sunlight."

Ezek didn’t back down. He shifted his weight, a faint, challenging smirk playing at the edge of his lips. "I am simply performing my duties as Lord Cherion’s personal guard, Rein. Providing timely information is part of the job description. Unless, of course, your memory is slowing down with age?"

"My memory is perfectly fine," Reiner answered calmly, which somehow felt more threatening. He stepped closer, towering over Ezek with ease. "As is my ability to spot a flaw in a guard’s stance. Your left flank is entirely exposed."

Ezek tilted his head upward, refusing to back down even slightly. "Was that supposed to be a challenge?"

"It’s an observation," Reiner murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to Ezek’s tightly set jaw before returning to his eyes. "One you would do well to remember if you intend to keep your head in the capital."

Cherion watched the two of them, a highly amused, subtle smile playing on his lips. He poured himself a fresh cup of tea, perfectly content to let them bicker. Their constant, intense back-and-forth was practically a daily show at this point, filled with a strange, charged energy that neither of them seemed willing to openly acknowledge.

The sharp tension was suddenly broken by a hurried knock at the door. Flio hurried into the room, looking uncharacteristically flustered.

"Lord Cherion," Flio spoke quickly, catching his breath. "You might want to see this. We have... a situation at the front gates."

Cherion set his teacup down, his curiosity piqued. "A situation?"

"A carriage just arrived," Flio explained, gesturing toward the hallway.

Now curious, Cherion headed toward the foyer without wasting time. Reiner and Ezek instantly followed behind him. Even in their silent march down the corridor, the two men managed to subtly shoulder past each other, each trying to claim the position closest to Cherion’s side.

As they reached the front entrance of the estate, the grand double doors were already being held open. Zarius had just arrived at the front as well, having just returned from his morning military briefings. The Duke stood like a towering statue of ice, his dark cloak catching the faint capital breeze as his stoic eyes focused entirely on the courtyard.

Down below, a highly ornate, luxurious carriage bearing the unmistakable, radiant crest of the Solaric Empire was rolling to a smooth halt. Sunlight bounced off the gold trim hard enough to announce its royal status before anyone even saw the crest.

Cherion stepped up beside Zarius, his breath catching slightly in his throat as the carriage door opened.

The imperial steps were lowered, and a tall, elegant figure stepped out first. It was Prince Gillian, his expression entirely relaxed, looking as though he were merely arriving for a casual stroll rather than dropping in on the most feared warlord of the kingdom.

Right behind him, holding the edges of her heavy, immaculate gown, stepped Princess Iryna. Her cheeks were slightly pink, her expression carrying a mix of fierce regal pride and quiet composure.

Cherion’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight. They had absolutely no official appointments scheduled for today.

As the Solaric Prince and Princess began their walk up the stone steps toward the entrance, Cherion found himself completely caught off guard.

He glanced sideways at Zarius’s completely frozen expression, one chaotic thought immediately screaming through his head.

What on earth are they doing here?