Chapter 8: The Crumbling Throne

Desperation makes men reckless.

And Lord Gregor was running out of time.

---

A Man on the Edge

Gregor was crumbling.

I could see it in the way his shoulders tensed whenever he entered court, in the restless tapping of his fingers against the wooden armrest of his chair.

He had once been a man of absolute control, a powerful figure in Aurelia’s court.

But now?

He was cornered.

The political support he had taken for granted was fracturing. Lord Reynard had begun gathering his own allies, whispering about Gregor’s incompetence.

And Gregor knew it.

That’s why, tonight, I was watching. Waiting.

Because when powerful men begin to fall, they will do anything to climb back up.

And Gregor was about to make his next mistake.

---

A Desperate Gamble

The court gathering was lively that evening, but beneath the surface, tensions ran high.

Gregor stood near the King’s council, speaking in hushed, hurried tones to several nobles. His body was stiff, controlled—but his eyes gave him away.

Desperation.

He was trying to secure support, to prevent more lords from defecting to Reynard’s growing faction.

I took a sip of my wine, watching. He was too late.

Then, he made his move.

I watched as he stepped forward, his voice ringing through the court.

“The military must remain strong,” Gregor declared, addressing the gathered nobles. “And for that, we need leaders who understand discipline. Stability. Experience.”

A murmur of approval swept through the court. Good. He was playing to his strengths.

Then he turned to King Aldric.

“I propose a restructuring of the military’s leadership,” Gregor continued. “There are too many new commanders, too many voices pulling in different directions. We need a firm hand to guide them.”

Ah. A power grab.

He was trying to force the King’s hand, securing a stronger hold over the army before Reynard could strip him of his influence.

Clever.

But flawed.

I looked toward Lord Reynard, who stood at the edge of the court. His face was unreadable—but his fingers curled into a fist.

Good. He had taken the bait.

This was the push I needed.

Now, it was time to pull the thread.

---

The Silent Strike

I rose from my seat, stepping toward the nearest noble—a minor lord who had long admired Reynard.

“Interesting,” I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

The lord turned to me, raising a brow. “What is, Your Highness?”

I smiled slightly, watching Gregor continue his speech.

“It seems Lord Gregor doesn’t trust his own officers,” I mused. “Restructuring the military? That sounds like a purge of power, not stability.”

The noble frowned. “You think he means to remove commanders?”

I let my gaze flicker toward Reynard. “If I were in his position? I would be concerned.”

The noble’s expression darkened as doubt took root.

He wouldn’t be the only one.

I stepped away, disappearing back into the crowd.

I had planted the thought. Now, I just had to wait.

---

Gregor’s Plan Backfires

By the time Gregor had finished speaking, the shift had already begun.

Whispers spread like wildfire. Doubt. Suspicion. Concern.

Lord Reynard, already on edge, took Gregor’s words as a direct attack.

And as I expected, he reacted.

The very next day, rumors surfaced. That Gregor was planning to remove Reynard’s allies. That his bid for power was a desperate attempt to cling to control.

By the end of the week, more nobles had stepped away from Gregor.

He had tried to gain strength.

Instead, he had lost it.

And the best part?

No one suspected I was behind it.

---

Evelyn's Suspicion Grows

I was just finishing breakfast when I sensed her presence.

I didn’t need to look up to know who had just entered the room.

Evelyn.

She moved with quiet grace, her steps measured as she approached.

She took the seat across from me, pouring herself a cup of tea. Unhurried. Watching.

“You’re in a good mood,” she murmured.

I smiled. “Am I?”

She stirred her tea slowly. “You are. Strange, considering how chaotic the court has been.”

Ah. So we were doing this again.

I leaned back in my chair, tilting my head. “Isn’t court always chaotic?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she studied me, her violet eyes sharp. Hunting for cracks.

After a long pause, she set her teacup down.

“I spoke to Lord Reynard this morning,” she said. “He seems… motivated.”

I arched a brow. “Motivated?”

She smiled faintly. “And Lord Gregor? He seems… less so.”

I hummed thoughtfully. “It must be difficult, trying to maintain power.”

She exhaled softly, watching me for a moment before speaking again.

“You know,” she murmured, “when we first met, I assumed you were harmless.”

I smiled. “And now?”

Her lips curled slightly.

“Now, I’m not so sure.”

Ah. She was getting closer.

I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice.

“You sound almost… impressed.”

She studied me, her expression unreadable. “Do I?”

I smirked. “A little.”

For the first time, she looked amused.

She picked up her teacup, taking a slow sip.

Then, as she rose from her seat, she spoke softly—just enough for me to hear.

“I wonder how much longer you’ll be able to keep your mask on, Prince Lucian.”

And with that, she walked away.

I exhaled, watching her disappear into the halls.

Clever, clever girl.

She was testing me. Watching me.

But she had no idea that I was watching her, too.

---

The Game Continues

By nightfall, Lord Gregor had already made another mistake.

Panicked, he began pressuring nobles to swear loyalty to him.

A foolish move. It made him look desperate.

And Lord Reynard?

He was gathering more allies.

The court was shifting. The balance of power was tilting.

And no one suspected that I was the one pulling the strings.

Not yet.

But Evelyn?

She was getting closer.

And that only made the game more interesting.

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