The day of the public ceremony dawned with an air of anticipation and unease. The palace grounds were alive with activity as servants and guards prepared for the event, a grand display meant to reinforce the emperor’s strength and authority. Nobles in their finest attire milled about the courtyard, their laughter and chatter a thin veneer over the tension that hung in the air.

Soren stood near the edge of the crowd, watching the scene unfold. His presence at the ceremony had been mandated, though he was relegated to the periphery, where the lower-ranking courtiers gathered. He didn’t mind the distance; in fact, he preferred it. It allowed him to observe without being under constant scrutiny.

The dais where Emperor Kairos would speak was a towering structure draped in crimson and gold banners. Behind it, the palace loomed like a fortress, its marble walls gleaming in the midday sun. A contingent of guards stood at attention on either side of the dais, their expressions stoic as they scanned the crowd.

Soren tugged at the collar of his formal tunic, the heavy fabric stiff and uncomfortable. He tried to focus on the proceedings, but the murmurs and shifting bodies around him made it difficult. It wasn’t until a slight commotion near the edge of the crowd caught his attention that he felt the first prick of unease.

A man dressed in plain, nondescript clothing moved through the crowd, his posture too deliberate to be natural. He didn’t jostle like the other spectators, nor did he seem interested in the ceremony. Instead, his movements were precise, his gaze fixed on the dais where Kairos now stood, addressing the crowd with his usual commanding presence.

Soren’s brow furrowed as he watched the man weave closer to the front. Something about him felt wrong. The way he kept his hands concealed beneath his cloak, the subtle tension in his shoulders—it all set Soren’s nerves on edge.

“Excuse me,” Soren murmured to a nearby guard, who gave him a dismissive glance.

“Stay where you are,” the guard replied curtly.

Frustration flared in Soren’s chest, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he shifted his position, craning his neck to keep the suspicious figure in sight.

Kairos’s voice rang out over the crowd, firm and unyielding. He spoke of strength, unity, and the empire’s unwavering resolve. The audience responded with polite applause, though the undercurrent of tension was unmistakable.

As the speech continued, the man in the cloak moved again, his hand slipping beneath the folds of fabric. Soren’s heart leapt into his throat.

He has a weapon.

Without thinking, Soren shoved his way through the gathered courtiers, ignoring their startled protests. His pulse thundered in his ears as he closed the distance, his eyes locked on the assassin’s hand.

“Stop!” Soren shouted, his voice breaking through the crowd’s murmurs.

Several heads turned toward him, including the guards stationed near the dais. Soren pointed toward the cloaked man, who froze for a split second before lunging forward.

The guards reacted swiftly, their training kicking in as they intercepted the assassin mere feet from the dais. The man struggled against them, his movements frantic as he tried to draw a concealed dagger. The crowd erupted into chaos, gasps and screams filling the air as people pushed and shoved in their attempts to back away.

Kairos remained on the dais, his expression a mask of cold fury as he watched the scene unfold. The guards wrestled the would-be assassin to the ground, pinning him there as the dagger clattered from his grasp.

Soren stood frozen, his chest heaving as he tried to process what had just happened. The guards hauled the man to his feet, dragging him toward the palace for questioning.

Kairos descended from the dais, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before landing on Soren. For a moment, their eyes met, and something unreadable flickered in the emperor’s icy blue gaze. Then he turned and followed the guards inside, his crimson cloak billowing behind him.

The chaos eventually subsided, though the ceremony was cut short. Soren returned to his quarters, his mind spinning. He had acted on instinct, but now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had overstepped. What if Kairos saw his actions as interference rather than assistance?

He didn’t have to wait long to find out.

That evening, a guard appeared at his door, summoning him to the emperor’s private chambers. Soren’s heart sank, but he nodded and followed, his stomach churning with nerves.

Kairos’s chambers were as imposing as Soren remembered—dark wood paneling, sparse decor, and an air of authority that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. The emperor stood near the fireplace, his back to the door as Soren entered.

“Your Majesty,” Soren said, his voice steady despite his nerves.

Kairos turned slowly, his expression unreadable. He regarded Soren in silence for a moment before speaking.

“You acted boldly today,” he said, his tone neutral.

Soren swallowed hard. “I thought I saw something suspicious. I wasn’t sure, but—”

“You were right,” Kairos interrupted. He stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “But I want to know why. Why did you involve yourself? Why not stay silent and let the guards handle it?”

Soren hesitated, unsure how to answer. He knew the truth would sound foolish, but he also knew lying would be pointless.

“I didn’t think the guards saw him,” Soren admitted. “And if I was wrong, no harm would have come of it. But if I was right...” He met Kairos’s gaze, his voice firm despite the emperor’s scrutiny. “If I was right, I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.”

Kairos studied him, his expression unreadable. “You could have been wrong. You could have endangered yourself and others for nothing.”

“Maybe,” Soren said, his chest tightening. “But I wasn’t wrong.”

The silence between them stretched, heavy and charged. Finally, Kairos spoke, his voice quieter now.

“Most would have looked away. Self-preservation is the natural response to danger.”

“I’ve already lost everything, Your Majesty,” Soren said, his voice soft but resolute. “What else do I have to lose?”

Kairos’s gaze flickered, the faintest hint of something—respect, perhaps?—crossing his features before it vanished.

“You are an anomaly, Soren,” he said finally. “A farmer’s son with no training, no power, and yet you continue to involve yourself in matters that are far beyond you.”

Soren’s jaw tightened. “Because I want to survive. And I think... maybe you do too.”

Kairos’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, though it held no warmth. “Careful, Soren. Your boldness borders on arrogance.”

“And yet, I’m still standing here,” Soren countered.

Kairos’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turned back to the fireplace, his posture tense. “Your actions today saved lives. That much is undeniable. But do not mistake that for favor.”

Soren inclined his head, though his heart felt strangely lighter. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

Kairos waved a hand, dismissing him. As Soren turned to leave, he couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted between them. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there—a crack in the emperor’s icy facade, a flicker of acknowledgment.

Back in his chambers, Soren sat by the window, staring out at the moonlit gardens. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with danger and uncertainty, but for the first time since arriving at the palace, he felt a spark of hope.

Perhaps, just perhaps, he was beginning to be seen.