Livius returned from the Origin Vault alone. He had left Draken in the dark, giving the man an hour to contemplate the jade sarcophagus. He needed the Inquisitor to be broken, not just defeated. A broken man could be rebuilt into a tool; a defeated man was just a corpse waiting to happen.
He walked through the palace gardens, which were overgrown with weeds and thorns. For decades, the gardeners had focused only on the central palace, leaving the outskirts to rot. Livius liked it this way. The wildness of the garden reflected the state of the empire—neglected, beautiful in a tragic way, and full of hidden dangers.
He reached a small pond, its surface covered in green duckweed. He sat on a stone bench and closed his eyes, reaching out with his mana. Since opening the vault, his connection to his mother's blood had intensified. He no longer felt just the "Solar" heat of the Argentine line; he felt a cool, moonlight-silver current flowing beneath it. It was a dual-natured power: the sun to destroy, and the moon to reveal.
"Master," a voice whispered from the branches of a willow tree.
Livius didn't look up. "Report, Raven."
A shadow dropped from the tree, landing silently on the grass. It was a young woman with a scarred face and sharp, intelligent eyes—the leader of the "Web-Walkers." "The Southern Duke's fleet has refused to dock. They are hovering five miles offshore, waiting for a signal from the Council. They have 'Mana-Cannons' aimed at the palace."
Livius opened his eyes, the gold and silver swirling in his pupils like a storm. "They think a fleet of wood and glass can intimidate a Dragon? They've forgotten that the sky belongs to me."
"Shall we activate the Nexus arrays?" she asked.
"No," Livius said, standing up. "The people need to see that their King isn't just a man who hides in rooms with ledgers. They need to see the 'Ghost' take flight. Prepare the city's defense wards, but tell our agents to stay back. I will handle the Southern Fleet personally."
He looked up at the darkening sky. The clouds were gathering, heavy with the promise of rain. The Southern Duke was a man of the sea, confident in his cannons and his numbers. He had never seen a True Dragon in its element.
Livius began to shed his silk coat, revealing the lean, corded muscle of his arms. His skin began to shimmer with a faint, iridescent light—the scales of the Silver Dragon manifesting beneath his surface. He wasn't shifting into a beast; he was becoming a conduit for something much older and much more terrifying.
"Cian!" Livius called out into his communication crystal.
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Cancel my afternoon meetings. I have a navy to sink."
As the first drop of rain hit the dry earth, Livius Mortem von Argentine didn't run. He didn't hide. His stride finding a path on the wind as if it were solid marble. With a roar that wasn't heard by the ears, but felt in the soul, he ascended into the clouds, leaving a trail of silver fire in his wake. The "Silent Reign" was about to get very, very loud.