THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR-Chapter 353: THE HIDDEN PLAYER

Duke Ephesians's lips curved in a cold smile that never reached his eyes. "Your cunning won't save you, Minister. You may believe you're cleverly reading the room, but I suggest you read it more carefully before my patience expires."

The Duke's fingers drummed once against the table—a gesture that might have seemed casual but caused Lord Veralis to subtly lean away, suggesting its significance as a warning.

"What we want is simple," the Duke continued, his voice deceptively gentle. "Where is the Archon of Lysora?"

Salomonis straightened, his demeanor shifting slightly as he visibly gathered himself. Though his expression remained neutral, those with magical sensitivity might have detected a subtle readjustment of energies around him—like a swordsman loosening his blade in its scabbard.

"As I have already stated," he replied, his voice now precise and measured, "Archon Elara va Ironblade has chosen to attend to private matters. In her absence, she appointed her sister Mariana as temporary head of Lysora County, with myself as administrative oversight."

Lady Seriphel's eyes narrowed as she studied him with unnerving intensity. "There is no record of her departure in any logbook," she stated flatly. "No witness observed her leaving the county seat. No funds were withdrawn from her treasury for travel expenses. No official notification was filed with the Imperial Registry as required by law for any Archon leaving their assigned territory."

"I believe," Salomonis countered smoothly, "that I specifically mentioned private matters. The word 'private' rather speaks for itself, does it not?"

The Duke sighed, the sound carrying theatrical disappointment. "This interrogation progresses nowhere." He rose from his chair with fluid grace that belied his imposing size, approaching Salomonis with measured steps that echoed against the ritual circle's metallic inlays.

"Minister Salomonis va Ferrum," he intoned formally, raising the golden medallion that hung at his chest. The Solaris Sigil flared to life, bathing the chamber in momentary brilliance that cast stark shadows across the ancient stones. "By the authority vested in me by Her Radiance, Empress Solmaria Aurealis Solaria, I hereby command you to reveal the whereabouts of Archon Elara va Ironblade."

Magic surged through the chamber, concentrated by the ritual circle's arcane patterns into a compelling force that pressed against Salomonis's mental defenses. The air itself seemed to thicken with imperial will, demanding compliance.

Salomonis met the Duke's gaze without flinching, his voice steady despite the magical pressure bearing down upon him. "I do not know."

For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then, with shocking speed, the Duke's boot connected with Salomonis's chest, sending him sprawling across the ritual circle. The attack came with such unexpected force and from such an unlikely source that even Salomonis's reflexes failed him.

As he struck the ground, however, a translucent barrier materialized around him—a defensive shield conjured without gesture or incantation. He rose to one knee, eyes blazing with barely controlled fury as he addressed the Duke.

"What," he demanded, "is the meaning of this?"

The Duke merely grinned, a predatory expression that transformed his aristocratic features into something altogether more dangerous. "All I need is time, Minister. If you continue to obstruct our investigation, we will march on Lysora County and seize it directly."

Salomonis began to rise, arcane energy visibly gathering around his hands. Before he could act, the chamber doors burst open with explosive force. Death Sun materialized beside the Duke with impossible speed, one gauntleted hand closing around Salomonis's throat while the other drew his massive blade halfway from its scabbard.

"I suggest," Death Sun hissed, his voice carrying harmonic undertones that made the very air vibrate, "that you reconsider whatever action you were contemplating."

The Duke laughed—a sound of genuine amusement that echoed through the chamber like breaking glass. "I was merely joking, Minister. Partially, at least." His smile vanished, replaced by cold authority. "But if you wish to avoid further unpleasantness, I suggest you reconsider your position. We will speak again tomorrow, after you've had time to reflect on my offer."

With a dismissive gesture, he signaled Death Sun. "Return him to his cell. Ensure he has adequate time to consider the consequences of continued obstruction."

Death Sun's grip tightened momentarily before he released Salomonis's throat, gesturing toward the door with exaggerated courtesy. "After you, Minister."

As they exited, the Duke returned to his seat, watching thoughtfully until the massive doors closed once more.

"The Council is dismissed until our next session," he announced, his tone suggesting the other members' presence was now superfluous.

Commander Tallix and Lord Veralis exchanged brief glances before rising without comment, while Lady Seriphel lingered a moment longer, her shrewd eyes studying the Duke with unreadable intensity. Without a word, she too departed, her footsteps fading into silence as the chamber emptied.

Alone at last, Duke Ephesians remained seated, one finger absently tracing patterns on the black marble table. The braziers' flames, no longer maintained by imperial magic, began to flicker and dance naturally, casting shifting shadows across his contemplative features.

"You can emerge now," he said without turning. "They've gone."

From behind one of the massive pillars stepped a woman of otherworldly grace, her presence commanding attention without effort. Half her face remained eternally concealed behind an elegant mask of silver filigree and sapphires, the intricate metalwork catching light in hypnotic patterns. The visible portion of her countenance displayed beauty beyond mortal measure—high cheekbones, flawless skin, and a single visible eye that seemed to hold ancient secrets within its depths.

Vaesha approached the Duke with fluid movements that suggested both intimacy and predatory intent. Her hand—too pale to be entirely human—came to rest on his shoulder with possessive familiarity.

"You're being too direct," she observed, her voice carrying musical undertones that resonated strangely in the ancient chamber. "He'll never reveal what he knows through such crude methods."

The Duke reached up, covering her hand with his own in a gesture that might have seemed affectionate if not for the subtle tension in his fingers. "Perhaps. But we need only keep him occupied while our agents search Lysora. Time is the one advantage we cannot surrender."

Vaesha's free hand caressed the Duke's cheek, turning his face toward her masked visage. "Come to bed, husband," she murmured, the title carrying strange emphasis. "I've missed you these past days."

The Duke rose, allowing her to guide him toward a concealed entrance behind the dais. As they departed, the flames in the braziers dimmed, as if responding to some unspoken command.

Left in darkness, the ancient chamber stood silent witness to plots that would soon reshape the empire itself.