The Kingmaker System

We took our seats, the soft velvet cushions sighing beneath us as we settled in. Lyall, precise and unobtrusive as ever, stepped forward and set down a tray of refreshments on the polished table between us. The glasses clinked gently as he poured the drinks—non-alcoholic, of course.

I reached for my glass, cool to the touch, and took a slow sip. "How is business these days?"

Kai—no, Ace now—swirled his drink with casual grace, the deep burgundy liquid catching the chandelier light above. "The peace treaty would open the doors to Denril’s markets as well," he said, his voice carrying a well-practiced ease. "So I suppose you could say I’m on the verge of expansion."

Good. His tone, his posture, even the glint in his eye—all of it had shifted since our little reminder earlier. He sat like a man used to dominion, legs crossed at the knee, one arm thrown over the armrest, the other handling his goblet with slow deliberation. A figure carved in composure.

I leaned back slightly, fingers absently circling the rim of my own glass. "Denril’s architecture is quite impressive—or so I’ve heard."

He gave a faint hum of agreement. "It is. They specialize in arts and crafts. Even their merchant stalls are ornate."

"Hm. I suppose I should invest in some artists from Denril, then." I said thoughtfully, watching his expression.

He smiled, a flicker of approval crossing his face.

The room dimmed slightly as the play finally began. A hush rippled through the theatre like a tide retreating, and I let my body relax into the plush seat, shifting subtly to gaze around without drawing attention.

The theatre was gilded in warm amber lights, casting a golden sheen over the audience below. I could already feel the weight of several gazes pressing toward us. Seven—no, eight. Some from the stalls below, others from the surrounding balconies. And one particularly familiar stare from the adjacent balcony.

Lord Devil.