Ben stepped out from the main building, boots crunching against the gravel. The air was already heavy and charged with an electrical taste.
"Ben!" A voice cut through the courtyard. He snapped his head toward the shout, pulled away from his own thoughts back into reality that followed.
A soldier stood near the gate, arm raised, beckoning Ben closer.
Ben quickened his pace, shoulders a bit stiff. "What's..up?"
The soldier didn't answer immediately, instead, he angled his head toward another officer standing beside him. A man with a clipboard on his hand, tapping the edge of the board in rythm with static crackle of his headset.
His eyes were locked forward. Thomas, a higher-ranking officer , finally turned his gaze toward Ben. His voice was low.
"Has Captain Khanji told you about the delay with the queen? We've got two attackers. One of them is identified as Carmen."
Ben froze. "Cody? The… queen's bodyguard?"
The officer, between Ben and Thomas, gave Ben a slow nod.
"Albert just told me about the delay, but I didn't know the attacker was Cody."
Ben's gaze lifted to Thomas. The man's expression remained strong as a rock. Thomas continued, each word deliberate.
"Fortunately, Ereck's there. The other attacker is Zack, Mertha's grandson. Apparently… he's not dead. I've spoken with Captain Khanji, Albert, and the sergeants in charge of security. There's a chance we might get invaded."
The silence that followed carried its weight in the air.
Thomas leaned closer. "Stay sharp during the execution trial. Watch the crowd, anyone blending in, anyone on stage. You understand, Ben?"
Ben swallowed hard, his body straightening. "I understand, sir."
Thomas gave a gentle nod as he closed his eyes, then turned toward the gate.
The officer, between them, looked up at Ben. Smiling with his mouth open.
"Do you have something to say to me, Charlie?" Ben's eyes watched Thomas before shifting his gaze down.
Charlie tilted his head, a sly grin carved around his mouth.
"Were you happy to see Lady Marguerite?" His tone carried the teasing lilt of a younger brother poking.
Ben gave him a firm smack between the shoulder blades, not that hard but enough to smake charlie jump. "She's an important guest," Ben muttered. "And I respect her father."
Charlie chuckled, rubbing the spot. "When will Duke Renardo De Lysandre come? Will he arrive with the High Lord?"
Ben's eyes narrowed. "Yeah."
Charlie's grin widened, eyes closing in satisfaction. "Well, you had your guest… now my guest will come."
Charlie throw his arm forward just as the iron gate groaned open. The sound was heavy, ceremonial, echoing across the courtyard. Officers straightened, boots clicking as they gather, moved to flank the entrance.
Four important figures stepped through.
Three men, tall, broad, shouldered, their presence commanding . And beside them, a single woman whose silhouette carried elegance against the stark stone backdrop.
The first to emerge was Duke Percy Norman, the Duke of Victoria City. His stride was deliberate, his bearing unmistakably noble.
He wore a deep green military suit layered beneath a trench coat trimmed with fur, medals and badges gleaming across his chest. His hair was slicked back, a neat strand falling forward to frame his temple. A grey beard, trimmed but full.
At his side walked a secretary in a sharp suit, eyes scanning the crowd with quiet vigilance. Behind him, other guests followed: men and women dressed in flamboyant bourgeois fashion, silks and jewels catching the light, their laugher and whispers a stark contrast to the ridge discipline of the soldiers present on the courtyard.
The murmurs hadn't settled from Duke Percy's arrival when another ripped stirred the crowd.
Duke Cassian O'Brien stepped through the gate, the color of flames catching the golden waves of his hair. His face was striking—youthful, clean-cut with a smile that seemed half-awayre of its own effect.
Unlike Percy's rigid formality, Cassian moved with ease, his coat swaying behind him like a cape. Two bodyguards flanked him, subtly nudging back the cluster of women who had followed him, their laughter soft, their perfume trailing like smoke.
Cassian didn't seem to notice the distance being enforced. Or perhaps he did, and simply didn't care.
He offered a nod to the offciers, then turned to flash a grin at one of the ladies whose hat dipped low over her eyes. She giggled behind her veil.
Behind him, more guests poured in: nobles in layered silks and velvet, their outfits stitched with gold thread. Wide-brimmed hats cast shadows over their painted faces, jewels glinting like trophies.
The sergeants barked orders from left and right, their voices sharp against the hum of the crowd. Soldiers moved swiftly, escorting nobles to their seats.
Ben and Charlie stood rigid in the line of guards, eyes forward, though curiosity flickered at the edge of their gaze.
Then from the shadows beyond the gate, a massive silhouette stirred.
The flame torches caught metal first, gleaming plates, pistons, and gears. A mechanical giant stepped into the light, its frame build like a tank, each movement shook the courtyard.
On its shoulder sat a man. Duke Dosmond Grey.
He was a dwarf, old but unyielding, his pointy nose jutting like a blade beneath a pair of round spectacles. A long mustache curled downward, twitching with every breath. His velvet suit clung to his frame, rich fabric offset by the tall black top hat perched on his head.
His expression was mean, carved into permanent disdain. Eyes narrowed, lips pressed tight. Dosmond Grey surveyed the courtyard along with the soldiers lined up with superiority as though every figure present in this fortress was already beneath him.
The robot carried him alone, no entourage, no laughter trailing behind. Just the hiss of gears and heavy thud of iron feet. The crowd hushed. Even the nobles in their jeweled hats leaned back, whispers and gossip stuck in their throat.
Then from the gate, a low hiss, guttural and primal, slithered through the silence left from Dosmond Grey.
The first figure to appear was not human.
A crocodile lumbered forward, scales glinting under the torchlight. Its jaw bound with a glided clasp, and its body adorned with jeweled straps and ornamental chains, accessories that turned menace into a domestic animal.
Gasps broke from the crowd, nobles leaning back as soldiers stiffened at the sight of the crocodile.
The leash tugged, and behind the reptile came Duchess Kyrovia Selena.
She walked alone as usual. Short black hair curled at the ends in a style reminiscent of the old eras, a few delicated jewels woven into the strands. One lock fell across her hair, veiling half her eye.
Her attire was sharply tailored: a long, tight black skirt that clung with precision, paired with a top cut in the shape of a foreign fashion. Draped over her shoulders was a fur coat, its edges lined with lace mesh that fluttered faintly with each step.
She held the leash with casual grace, as if leading a lapdog rather than a predator. The crocodile's claws craped against the stone.
Whispers rising like smoke alarm inside the crowd. However, Selena Kyrovia did not look at them. Her eyes remained closed. Her chin high. Soon both of them were escorted by Thomas.
⪻────────𖤓────────⪼
[ backstage, 6:47 PM ]
Ben stared at his reflection as his watch ticked over to 6:47 PM. He adjusted the cuffs of his suits, straightened the tie at his throat, then reached for a comb resting beside the sink.
Behind him, crates and stage equipment were stacked into shadows. Charlie sat atop one of the boxes, elbows resting on his knees, watching Ben closely.
"Are you nervous to lead this execution?" He asked.
Ben didn't answer, instead he leaned closer to the sink, comb gliding through his dark brown hair with practiced ease.
Charlie exhaled sharply. "All that's left is the High Lord… and the Grand Duke of Rosette, and the prince."
"I got the report from Ereck by the way. He says they're on their way. They'll be here by 7 PM. Along with Captain Khanji."
Ben finally straightened. He set the comb down with care. "I'm an announcer, that's my role, Charlie," he said calmly. "I've always been the one in charge of conducting and hosting gatherings for the elites."
Charlie's voice raise higher. "But this isn't like the other gatherings!" He swallowed, leaning back. "Haven't you heard Captain Thomas? He told you we're going to get invaded."
Ben shook his head once.
"Everything is going to be fine." He turned fully toward Charlie. "I am the one in charge. And I will make sure that by the end of tonight—"
His hand lifted slightly, as if already holding something invisible.
"—the queen's head is in my hand."
Charlie clenched his teeth. "The
Just as Ben opened his mouth—
THUD.
The sound crashed through the backstage. Both of them froze, their eyes met for half a second. Silent and alert, then Ben reached for the curtain.
He pulled it aside.
Two soldiers were forcing a man forward, spears raised and pressed close to his neck to keep him down. Chains rattled as the man was driven to his knees. His hands bound tightly behind his back.
The officers shouted over one another, voices sharp with anger.
Ben stepped forward, descending slowly, shock flickering across his face for the first time that night.
From behind the soldiers, another figure emerged. It was Captain Thomas.
"No way…"
His voice cracked. The man on his knees barely moved. Chains clinked faintly as Captain thomas stood firmly, his hands wrapped around his arms.
Thomas nudged him with the side of his boot, not hard at first, just enough to force his face up.
"Victor Kane," Thomas said coldy. "The most trusted man on the
His boot came down harder.
"You have failed us all."
Victor grunted as he collapsed sideways. Thomas didn't stop.
"Fool!"
A kick to the ribs.
"Traitor!"
Another.
Ben dropped to his knees before he even realized it, hands digging into the sand-dusted floor. He leaned forward, head lowered just enough to meet Victor's gaze.
Victor's nose was broken. Blood smeared his mouth. Bruised bloomed dark across his cheekbone and jaw.
"Victor!" Ben shouted, disbelief tearing through his voice. "What the hell are you doing man?! I never thought, never… that you'd turn your back on us!"
Victor didn't answer.
Ben swallowed hard. "If the High Lord hears about this, he won't forgive you—"
"The High Lord has known," Thomas cut in sharply.
Ben froze.
Thomas stepped closer, voice rising so everyone nearby could hear. "Everyone knows now that he is a traitor to his clan and his kingdom."
Ben's breath caught. "What…?"
"The High Lord has sent his word," thomas continued, fury trembling beneath each syllable. "He will be executed alongside the queen. Anyone who dares stand against the High Lord's orders shall suffer the consequences."
He turned back to Victor, shaking in rage.
"And he—" Thomas snarled, nearly spitting the words, "—he, who was praised for his excellence in combat, intelligence, and loyalty…"
His boot slammed down again.
"… to try and ambush us alone. By himself. With a move so pathetic even a mere trainee could pull it off."
Thomas spat on Victor's bloodied face.
"At least you could've put up a fight," he muttered. "Shame on you."
Then he turned away.
"Chain him next to the torch on the stage," he ordered without looking back. "He'll be executed before the queen's late arrival."
Thomas sneered. "This should help ease the guests boredom."
Ben slowly stood as two officers hauled victory upright. The chains scraped loudly as they dragged him away, disappearing behind the stage curtain.
Ben didn't follow, instead he just stood there, hands trembling at his sides, staring at the dust where Victor's blood still stained the ground.
Bootsteps thundered into the backstage's courtyard. Ben barely had time to steady himself before a group of soldiers rushed in. Their sudden arrivall snapped Thomas's attention away.
The soldiers dropped to one knee before him, bowing deeply.
"Sir!" One of them reported. "The queen is here. Albert has ordered one of the units to place her in the second building cell for now—until the execution begins."
Ben stepped forward, only a few inches away from Thomas.
For a moment, the air went cold. The soldiers glance between them. Then from beyond the crew, movement erupted. Three officers emerged. Dragging the unconsious Cody.
His body hung limp, boots scraping against the ground as they force him forward.
"We've managed to capture the traitor," one officer announed. "Unfortunately… Zack was left free by Ereck."
Another soldier shouted from behind, "But he was badly injured. I doubt he'll make it out alive this time."
Thomas looked down at Cody, eyes cold. "Take him," he said. "Chain him next to Victor Kane."
"He will also be executed," Thomas continued, unmoved, "for defending a fugitive and plotting against the High Lord."
The three soldiers nodded and dragged Cody away, disappearing inside.
The first guard stepped forward again. "Also—Ereck left us mid-journey. He said he would meet Captain Khanji and arrive here alongside him."
Thomas nodded once, satisfied. He placed a firm hand on the soldier's shoulder.
"Well done," he said. "The execution will begin soon." Then he turned his gaze toward Ben.
"Ben," Thomas said smoothly, a grin slowly spreading across his face. "I got the message from Albert, the last guests has arrived and settled in. Go and start the final act of this soirée."