Ivan and Lucian walked through the grand corridors of the palace, their footsteps echoing against the cold stone floors. Portraits of past rulers and noble ancestors adorned the walls, their painted eyes seeming to follow every movement, as though assessing the worth of those who walked beneath their gazes.
Banners, richly woven and alive with royal insignia, hung from the high ceilings, the symbols of power undulating in the air like silent sentinels. Each step Lucian took beside Ivan felt like a deliberate power move—an unspoken statement that he, too, belonged here, at least for now.
Ivan continued to stride ahead, his expression as cool and unreadable as ever. His eyes were fixed ahead, unflinching, as if nothing could distract him from his thoughts.
The weight of the royal halls bore down on them, but neither seemed affected. His voice broke the silence, his tone both casual and testing.
"What should be our next move?"
