The lords of the Table argued fiercely in the grand council chamber of High Veil. Light from floating mana orbs cast long shadows across the ornate marble floor as voices rose and fell. At the center of the dispute was Lord Foghorn Luceronis, his face flushed crimson beneath his neatly trimmed beard as he pounded his fist on the polished table.

"The Empire clearly cannot use our resources effectively!" he declared, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling adorned with frescoes depicting The War in Heaven. "Three battalions of Magitek weapons, five hundred standardized Mana Ore pieces—and that is for one month. ONE! MONTH!" He swept his gaze across the chamber, his silk robes rustling as he gestured dramatically. "And still they nearly lost the northern garrison! The Empire's days are numbered, my lords. We should strengthen Somnium's defenses instead. Think of our people—our precious citizens whose taxes fund these... generous donations." His voice softened with practiced concern that didn't quite reach his calculating eyes. "How can we justify such expense when our own people might need those resources? The prosperity of Somnium must come first, as I'm sure we all agree." Several lords nodded in agreement, but Lord Ardorius Fabius rose to his feet, his golden hair catching the blue glow of the chamber's mana lights. The Commander of the Order of the Swords stood tall, his lone eye fixed on Luceronis with intensity that made even the outspoken lord pause. An ornate eye patch covered where his left eye had once been, a badge of honor from a battle decades ago when he had saved the king's life.

"This incursion was larger and more dangerous than anything we've seen in years," Fabius countered, his deep voice commanding attention. "We have reports of red daemons leading the charge—not just the common black ones. By O Mother's heart, if we abandon the Empire now, we invite destruction to our very doorstep." He adjusted the golden insignia on his coat, his eye narrowing at Luceronis. "And while Lord Foghorn speaks so movingly of our citizens' prosperity, I wonder if he's considered how prosperous they'll be with daemons at their gates? Or perhaps some lords are more concerned with the prosperity of their personal coffers than with the security of the realm." Several gasps echoed through the chamber, and Luceronis's face darkened further. The tension in the chamber thickened as other lords began to rise, voices overlapping in heated debate. Accusations flew across the table like arrows, and the mana lights overhead flickered with the rising emotions in the room.

King Somnus Sylvaris sat silently upon the White Throne, his weathered face betraying nothing as he observed the discord among his lords. The throne, carved from the gleaming hull of an ancient airship from The War in Heaven, seemed to amplify his presence despite his stillness. Both his eyes glowed with the faint blue light of his Complete Magik Circuit, the mark of his pure Somnus bloodline. Finally, as the argument threatened to devolve further, he raised one hand—a simple gesture that immediately froze the chamber in silence. Lords who had been standing sat back down as if puppets whose strings had been cut; those who had been shouting found their voices suddenly trapped in their throats.

The air in the chamber grew heavy with unseen power. Sylvaris rose from his throne, and to the astonishment of even the most seasoned lords, his feet lifted several inches from the marble floor. The blue glow of his eyes intensified, casting eerie shadows across his face as he descended the steps with supernatural grace, hovering just above the ground. Patterns of light traced themselves across his exposed skin—the intricate web of his Complete Magik Circuit briefly visible through his flesh. No Mana Ore powered this display; this was True Magik, drawn from the king's own life force.

Sylvaris glided toward the Table, passing between Lord Foghorn and Lord Ardorius. Both men remained perfectly still, not even their eyes daring to follow the king's movement. The only sound in the chamber was the soft rustle of the king's robes and the almost imperceptible hum of power that surrounded him. He completed a slow circuit of the Table, studying each lord's face as if memorizing their expressions for later contemplation, before returning to the center of the chamber. Only then did he allow his feet to touch the floor, the glow of his Circuit fading to its usual subtle luminescence.

"My lords," he spoke finally, his voice soft yet carrying effortlessly to every corner of the room, "such passion speaks well of your concern for our kingdom." He turned, facing the tall, composed figure standing at the right of the now-empty throne. "Prince Lenundis, you have been quiet. What say you on this matter?"

All eyes turned to the Crown Prince of Somnium, whose left eye mirrored his father's with its ethereal blue glow, his right eye—hazel and ordinary—visible beneath his carefully arranged light blue hair that seemed to capture the essence of the mana lights above.

Lenundis stepped forward, his movements graceful and measured. Unlike his father's impressive display of power, the prince carried himself with quiet authority. When he spoke, his voice was clear and unwavering.

"Father, my lords," he began, inclining his head respectfully to each. "The Empire has stood as our shield against the Hel Portal for generations. Their warriors fight and die daily so that we might enjoy peace and prosperity."

He turned slightly toward Lord Foghorn, whose face remained carefully neutral. "Lord Foghorn's concerns are not without merit. As Master of Coins, his stewardship of our treasury has brought unprecedented prosperity to Somnium. The flourishing markets of Low Noctis and the full royal coffers stand as testament to his skill." The tension in Lord Foghorn's shoulders eased slightly at the acknowledgment, and several other lords nodded in agreement.

"It is precisely because of this prosperity—which Lord Foghorn has helped create—that we find ourselves in a position of strength to aid our allies," Lenundis continued smoothly. "The incursion we speak of was not a mere border skirmish. Our scouts report it was a tier-three breach, with a single red daemon leading the horde—the first of its kind seen in a hundred years."

A murmur broke through the silence as lords exchanged alarmed glances. The appearance of even a single red daemon was cause for grave concern—these powerful entities were thought to have vanished from the Rift. For one to appear now, after a century of absence, signaled a disturbing shift in the daemon incursions.

"I propose we not only continue our support but increase it," Lenundis stated firmly. "Five more battalions of Magitek weapons, and one thousand standardized Mana Ore pieces." He held up a hand as several lords began to protest. "I understand the cost, but consider the alternative. If Fort Dauntless falls, if the Empire's line breaks—how many more resources would we spend defending our own borders? How many Somnium lives would be lost?"

The prince's left eye seemed to glow more intensely as he spoke, his conviction clear. "We do not merely aid the Empire out of charity—we do so out of foresight. Their struggle is our struggle. Their survival ensures ours."

Lord Foghorn Luceronis's face darkened. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emerged—the king's spell still held him in check. Beside him, Lord Ardorius Fabius's lone eye gleamed with approval. When the king finally released his hold with a subtle gesture, Fabius was the first to respond.

"The prince speaks wisdom beyond his years," he declared, rising to his feet and bringing his hands together in the shape of the Embrace—fingers extended upward, then curving down to form a circle before meeting at the center and rising to his chest. "O Father who fights to protect, O Mother who nurtures our courage, guide our actions in this time of need."

Several lords followed his example, performing the Embrace and murmuring prayers of agreement. Even those who had sided with Lord Foghorn found themselves nodding reluctantly—the prince's logic was sound. Somnium's safety depended on the Empire's survival.

"You show wisdom, my son," King Sylvaris said, pride evident in his voice as he returned to his throne—this time walking rather than floating. "Not only in your decision but in understanding that sometimes, to protect what we value most, we must look beyond our borders." He gestured to the royal scribe. "Let it be recorded that the Crown has approved additional support for our allies in the Crimson Plain Empire."

Lord Foghorn Luceronis rose from his seat, his earlier displeasure masterfully concealed behind a courtier's practiced smile. He performed the Embrace with elegant precision, his expensive rings catching the light of the mana orbs overhead.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness," he said, voice smooth as silk, "while I had concerns about our treasury, I bow to your wisdom in this matter." He inclined his head, the gesture just deep enough to show respect without subservience. "Somnium is blessed by O Father and O Mother to have such foresighted rulers in these uncertain times. As Master of Coins, I shall ensure the required resources are allocated without delay." Only those who knew him well might notice the slight tightness around his eyes that betrayed his true feelings, but in court politics, appearances were what mattered most.

King Sylvaris nodded, acknowledging Lord Foghorn's words with a slight inclination of his head. His gaze swept across the assembled lords, the blue glow of his eyes reflecting off the polished marble floor.

"The Table has served its purpose for today," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of finality. "Let the scribes record our decision, and let messengers be dispatched to Fort Dauntless with news of our continued support." With a gesture, he dispersed the magic that had held the lords in check. "We shall reconvene at the next scheduled meeting. For now, you are dismissed."

The lords rose and bowed in unison, performing the Embrace once more before filing out of the grand chamber. Guards in silver and white livery opened the ornate doors, their Magitek armor humming faintly in the quiet room. As the last of the nobles departed, King Sylvaris remained seated on the White Throne, his expression unreadable.

"Lenundis," he said softly when they were finally alone, save for the two Royal Guards standing at the far corners of the room. "Stay a moment. There are matters we must discuss."