Scene: Private Wing, The Blackwood Castle — Classic 😎's POV
I was summoned without a time.
No official letter.
No guard knocking.
Just a quiet encrypted message on my personal terminal:
> "Come alone. I need you. – C."
I didn't hesitate.
I wore no robe of rank. No crest. Just black.
Not mourning black.
Neutral black.
When I reached the private wing—one of the only places in the entire empire where no surveillance feeds existed—the guards let me through without a word. Their eyes flicked over me like they knew something was shifting… something delicate.
I pushed open the heavy mahogany door to the chamber.
And there he was.
Chris Blackwood.
The King.
The man the world hadn't seen in weeks.
The man whose silence nearly broke the Empire.
Sitting alone, no crown, no council, no camera.
Just him.
And two tumblers of Blackwood reserve whiskey already poured.
> "Sit," he said.
His voice was steady, but not commanding.
Not quite.
I didn't sit immediately. I studied him. The sharp jaw now shadowed with exhaustion. The once-piercing eyes now heavy, but not broken. Just calculating. Watching me.
I took the seat. But I didn't touch the glass.
He did.
He took a long sip.
Then looked at me for the first time not as his son, but like I was a man he needed to read.
> "You've changed," he said.
I didn't blink. "You disappeared."
He smirked faintly. "Fair enough."
There was silence.
Then he said:
> "You challenged Amara. In front of the entire empire. You quoted the Blackwood Code to the letter. You stirred the air just enough without breaking rank."
> "You were watching," I said, surprised—but not really.
> "I always watch," he murmured.
He stood up, walked to the glass window. The city glowed far beneath us.
> "You have your mother's edge," he said quietly. "But you've got my instinct for war."
I didn't say anything.
Then he turned.
> "So tell me the truth… Did you want to break her? Or were you testing me?"
I finally picked up the glass.
Held it. Didn't sip.
> "Neither," I replied.
> "I was testing the people."
That made him pause.
I stood, now facing him.
> "They needed to hear that their empire wasn't perfect. That power comes with blood. They needed to feel fear… and then see it answered by strength."
> "And you think Amara showed them that strength?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Enough to keep them loyal."
He nodded slowly. "You're thinking like a king now."
I raised an eyebrow.
> "Am I?"
He stepped closer, suddenly serious.
> "You're not just my son anymore. You're Blackwood 04. You're the next hammer—or the next sword. And I need to know…"
He leaned in slightly, voice low.
> "Are you with me, Classic… or are you watching me too?"
I stared into his eyes.
Not as a son.
Not as a subject.
As a player in the game.
And I said—
> "I'm not with you or her.
I'm with the Empire."
He laughed once under his breath. Then sipped the rest of his drink.
> "Good," he said. "Because the Empire may need a new voice soon."
He looked at me again.
> "And if it's going to be you…
Let's make sure you don't just survive the fire."
> "Let's make sure you own it."