The early morning mist hung over the Magiteks training field, the vast expanse of charred earth and scattered target dummies stretching toward the horizon. A thunderous boom echoed across the grounds as one of the Magik Cannons discharged, sending a blinding blue bolt of energy into a distant target. Crown Prince Somnus Lenundis stood on the observation platform, his left eye glowing with the faint blue luminescence of his Magik Circuit while his right remained covered by a carefully arranged lock of light blue hair. His white crow-emblazoned cloak fluttered in the cool breeze as he watched the battalions below prepare the newest models of Magik Cannons for deployment. The massive weapons gleamed in the dawn light, their barrels inscribed with intricate Magik Circles that pulsed with various colors as the Magitek operators loaded standardized Mana Ore into their chambers. Another cannon fired, the concussive force rippling through the air as a target dummy was instantly vaporized. Lenundis absently traced his fingers along the smooth surface of his Illusory Orb, still in its dormant cube form, as he contemplated the bitter truth that he had never once activated it since the day it was bestowed upon him. With his Incomplete Magik Circuit, the legendary relic remained silent, unresponsive to his touch—a constant reminder of his perceived inadequacy.

"Always found it odd they're called 'Orbs' when they're clearly cubes," remarked Ardorius Cenoris, who stood beside Lenundis at the platform's edge. The Captain of the Royal Guard was a head taller than the prince, his silver armor catching the morning light and the White Crow insignia cape draped over his broad shoulders. A deafening blast shook the observation platform as three cannons fired in unison, their mana beams converging on a single point and erupting into a spectacular explosion that sent dirt and debris showering into the air. Cenoris didn't flinch, his short golden hair ruffled slightly in the breeze as his brown eyes tracked the movements of the Magitek battalions below. "Another of those mysteries from the War in Heaven, I suppose. Father says the name comes from what they become when activated, not what they are in slumber."

Lenundis tucked the cube into the folds of his royal garments as another cannon discharged with a resounding boom. "The archives say they were named after the First Mystic King's weapon," he replied, his voice carrying the polished eloquence that came from years of royal education, easily cutting through the distant shouts of Magitek operators calling out targeting coordinates. "When he activated his Magik Device during the War in Heaven, it took the form of a perfect sphere—a glowing orb that could reshape reality itself." He gestured to the sky, where High Veil, the floating palace of House Somnus, hovered majestically above Noctisveil. A barrage of smaller Magik Cannons peppered the field with rapid-fire shots, the staccato blasts reverberating across the training grounds. "No one remembers exactly what it did, only that its spherical form became the symbol of the Mystic King's lineage, passed down through the bloodline of Somnus."

He paused, a wistful expression crossing his features as he gazed at the distant silhouette of the floating palace against the morning sky, illuminated momentarily by the brilliant flash of the largest cannon yet—a prototype siege weapon that unleashed a devastating beam of concentrated mana energy, carving a trench 50 feet deep into the reinforced target area. "Father believes the Illusory Orbs were created to mimic that power—nineteen pale reflections of the original. But even those reflections are beyond the reach of most."

The heavy tread of multiple boots ascending the observation platform's stairs drew their attention. Lord Foghorn Luceronis, Master of Coins, appeared at the top of the stairs, flanked by two of his personal guards. His imposing figure, draped in expensive fabrics embroidered with the golden scales of his house's sigil, approached with purpose. The permanent scowl that seemed etched into his face only deepened when he saw the prince.

"Your Highness," he said with the barest minimum of courtesy, his bow perfunctory at best. "I see you're admiring our kingdom's resources being squandered."

Cenoris stiffened beside Lenundis, his hand instinctively moving to his sword hilt. The tension between Lord Foghorn and the Crown Prince was no secret among the court, but such open disrespect bordered on insubordination.

"Lord Foghorn," Lenundis acknowledged with a measured nod, his royal training masking whatever irritation he might have felt. "I trust the Table's meeting concluded satisfactorily?"

"Hardly," the older man scoffed, gesturing broadly at the training field below. "While you play with your toys, the real business of the kingdom continues. The Table has concerns about this... excessive commitment to the Empire."

"The Table approved the shipment of twenty cannons," Lenundis replied evenly, watching another successful test fire below. "We're merely ensuring they work properly before sending them."

"Twenty!" Lord Foghorn's voice rose sharply. "That number has mysteriously grown to thirty since yesterday. And now I hear whispers of sending Magitek operators as well?" He stepped closer, the morning light catching the gray streaks in his otherwise dark hair. "Each of these weapons costs the treasury more than funding the entire eastern garrison for a month. Each Mana Ore depleted here is one less for our own defenses."

A sudden commotion erupted below as panicked shouts rose from the third battalion. One of the Magik Cannons began to emit an alarming high-pitched whine, its inscribed circles flashing erratically between crimson and violet—colors never seen in proper operation. The Magitek operators scrambled away from the malfunctioning weapon as its barrel vibrated violently, the unstable mana reaction causing the very air around it to distort.

"Djit'ma!" Cenoris cursed, his hand instinctively moving to draw his sword. "Clear the field!" he bellowed down to the soldiers, his commanding voice carrying across the training grounds. The officers below were already evacuating their squadrons as the cannon's whine reached a fever pitch.

Lenundis's eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, his royal training giving way to decisive action. "The Mana Ore's destabilizing," he said, spotting the telltale flickering of blue light within the cannon's chamber. "If it detonates at full charge—"

Before he could finish, the cannon erupted in a blinding explosion of raw mana energy, sending a shockwave rippling across the training field. The blast knocked several nearby operators off their feet and sent a plume of debris and energy skyward in a chaotic fountain of blue fire and smoke.

"You see!" Lord Foghorn's face reddened with vindication as he pointed to the smoking crater. "Unreliable, dangerous, and wasteful! This is what you would send to defend our allies? Weapons that endanger their users as much as their targets?"

As the dust settled, Lenundis scanned the field anxiously. To his relief, the Magiteks were already picking themselves up, their enchanted armor having absorbed the worst of the blast. The standard-issue protective gear—inscribed with defensive Magik Circles designed specifically for such mishaps—glowed faintly as it dispersed the residual energy. A few soldiers sported minor cuts and bruises, but nothing serious enough to warrant immediate medical attention. The cannon itself was reduced to a twisted heap of scorched metal, the Magik Circles that once adorned its barrel now nothing more than charred etchings.

"That's why we test them here, Lord Foghorn," Lenundis replied calmly, though his fists clenched at his sides. "Better to discover flaws now than on the battlefield."

"And how many more will explode before your 'testing' is complete?" Foghorn demanded. "The Table's Exchequer recorded eight malfunctions this month alone. Eight cannons lost, each worth more than—"

"I'm well aware of their value," Lenundis cut in, a rare edge entering his voice. "Both material and strategic."

"Are you?" Foghorn's eyes narrowed. "Then perhaps Your Highness can explain why the projected expenditure for this project has doubled since its approval? Or why Captain Ardorius here—" he gestured dismissively toward Cenoris, "—has requisitioned three additional battalions of Magiteks for 'training exercises' along the western border? The very border that, coincidentally, connects directly to the Empire?"

Cenoris stepped forward, shoulders squared. "Those deployments were scheduled months ago, Lord Foghorn. Standard rotation of—"

"I wasn't addressing you, Captain," Foghorn interrupted coldly. "I'm speaking to the one who would be king." He turned back to Lenundis. "The Table deserves transparency, Your Highness. If you intend to commit Somnium blood to defending the Empire's Rift, at least have the courage to say so openly."

Lenundis stood silent for a moment, the weight of the accusation hanging in the air. Below, the Magitek officers had already begun their analysis of the explosion site, measuring instruments in hand, while engineers prepared the next cannon for testing. The routine continued despite the malfunction—adaptability in the face of danger, a quality his father had always stressed was essential in leadership.

"The Rift threatens us all, Lord Foghorn," Lenundis finally said, his voice lower but firm. "If it fails, the daemons won't recognize our borders or respect our sovereignty. The red daemon that breached last month was the first in a century. Something is changing."

"So we've heard," Foghorn replied skeptically. "Convenient timing, isn't it? Just as the Empire's trade delegation arrives to negotiate lower prices for our Mana Ore exports."

"You think they'd fabricate a daemon breach?" Cenoris asked incredulously.

"I think," Foghorn replied carefully, "that fear is a powerful negotiating tool. And these weapons—" he gestured to the field below, "—represent an unprecedented commitment to a foreign power."

Lenundis stepped closer to Foghorn, close enough to speak without being overheard by the guards. "I increased the number from twenty to thirty because the reports from Fort Dauntless indicated the breach was larger than initially reported. Not twenty daemons, but nearly a hundred. The Rift is growing unstable." His mismatched eyes bore into Foghorn's. "Would you have me ignore this intelligence? Wait until the threat is at our doorstep?"

Foghorn held his gaze for a long moment, then exhaled sharply. "The treasury cannot sustain this level of expenditure indefinitely, Your Highness. The Table expects a full accounting at tomorrow's session." He glanced down at the training field where another cannon was being readied. "And a plan to address these... technical issues."

"You'll have it," Lenundis replied. "The safety of all Erath's people remains my priority, Lord Foghorn. Including the Empire's."

Foghorn's lip curled slightly, but he offered a stiff bow. "Until tomorrow, then." He turned and descended the stairs, his guards following closely.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Cenoris released a long breath. "That man would count the cost of rope while drowning."

"He's doing his job," Lenundis said quietly, watching Foghorn's retreating figure. "The treasury isn't bottomless, and these cannons are expensive." He turned to Cenoris. "Were those deployments really scheduled months ago?"

Cenoris's expression remained carefully neutral. "The rotations were. The specific battalions... might have been adjusted recently."

Lenundis frowned. "You should have told me."

"You have enough to worry about without every minor troop movement crossing your desk," Cenoris replied, then added more softly, "and plausible deniability if questioned directly by the Table."

"I don't need protection from my own decisions, Cen," Lenundis said sharply, then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck—a gesture his tutors had spent years trying to train out of him. "I need to know what's happening, especially if it involves potential military support for the Empire."

Cenoris nodded, accepting the rebuke. "It was my father's suggestion. He thought—"

"I know what Commander Ardorius thought," Lenundis interrupted. "But the decision is mine to make, not his." He looked out over the training field, where another cannon was being prepared for testing.

Cenoris followed his gaze, his expression growing more serious. "About that malfunction earlier—it wasn't just a random occurrence." He pointed to where the Magitek officers were still examining the charred remains. "Those cannons require precise calibration before every deployment. The oscillation patterns in the tertiary Magik Circles must align perfectly with the resonance frequency of the Mana Ore. If they're even slightly misaligned..."

He traced a spiral in the air with his finger. "The energy feedback creates a cascading reaction. The primary Circles try to compensate, drawing more power from the Ore, which only accelerates the destabilization." He gestured to the twisted metal remains. "That's why the colors shifted to crimson and violet—the containment matrices were failing, trying to rechannel the excess energy through auxiliary pathways."

Cenoris shook his head grimly. "Our Magiteks train for years to recognize the early warning signs. Empire operators would miss them until it's too late." He turned back to Lenundis. "The Mana Ore housing, calibration tools, resonance monitors—these aren't just accessories. They're essential safeguards that require specialized knowledge."

Lenundis nodded slowly, the weight of the decision evident in his expression. "I need to decide today. Thirty cannons with operators who don't fully understand them, or twenty with Magitek crews who do."

"The Empire won't accept our soldiers," Cenoris said quietly. "Not officially."

"And the Table won't approve sending them," Lenundis added, "not even unofficially."