Lucian's Pov
By the time Elder Ignatius was brought into my office, I had already summoned a few of the high-ranking officials I trusted—those who knew how to keep their mouths shut but their eyes open. I didn't need rumors flying before I'd made my move, but I also couldn't confront an elder of the Council without witnesses. Not because I feared Ignatius, no. But because exposing him without proof and process would unravel half the fragile order we'd managed to maintain since the attack.
Ignatius walked in with his usual gait—measured, deliberate, cloaked in quiet authority. He was flanked by Alarick, who looked as unreadable as ever, though I noted the tightness in his jaw. The other officials, standing in the corners of the room or seated across from my desk, straightened when they saw the old man. I didn't stand. I just watched.
"Ignatius," I said with cool detachment, fingers steepled in front of me. "Thank you for making the time."
