Friday dawned grey and tense. The palace felt like a held breath. Hadrian dressed with extra care, choosing a jacket of unadorned, dark wool—the uniform of a man attending a trial, not a debate. Seraphina wore a severe dress of deep blue, the color of the ocean at depth, with no jewels save her wedding band and the empty vial necklace she had not worn in months. Today, she told herself, she would either reclaim it or bury it for good.
They parted at the commission chamber doors with a look, not a touch. A look that said: The blueprint is set. Follow the plan.
The chamber was full, the air thick with anticipation. Lord Berrick had a poorly concealed gleam in his eye. Lords Corso and Vayne avoided Seraphina's gaze. Lady Thorne gave her a sharp, encouraging nod.
The meeting began with dry reports. Then, as the wetland allocation item was called, Berrick stood. His speech was a masterpiece of insidious damage. He spoke of "the need for steady, unemotional leadership in times of crisis." He praised Seraphina's "passion" but worried it had tipped into "fixation." He referenced the "curious, almost juvenile focus on model-building" as evidence of a "distraction from hard fiscal realities." He didn't mention the voyage or Rian directly; he didn't need to. The ghost of those rumors hung over every coded word.
"Therefore," he concluded, "I move that the chairmanship of this commission be temporarily reviewed, and that the wetland allocation vote be postponed until such a review is complete."
A silence fell. It was the moment.
Seraphina did not stand to defend herself. She remained seated, her posture regal and calm. She looked to the back of the room, where the doors opened.
Hadrian entered. He was not alone. He was accompanied by Sultan Argenthelm, whose presence caused a visible stir, and by Prince Rian, whose face was a careful blank.
"Forgive the interruption," Hadrian said, his voice carrying easily in the hushed room. "But as the special advisor on infrastructural integration, and as the principal architect of the Aria of the Tides project, I have pertinent information that bears directly on Lord Berrick's concerns about leadership and fiscal responsibility."
He walked to the front, not taking Seraphina's chair, but standing beside it, a united front. "Lord Berrick questions the chair's focus. He cites the model created by the Princess and myself as evidence of frivolity." Hadrian allowed a small, cold smile. "What he calls a 'juvenile focus,' His Excellency Sultan Argenthelm calls 'visionary prototyping.' In fact, the Sultan was so impressed by the integrated design principles embodied in that model—principles of biomimicry and resilience—that he has, this morning, signed a binding agreement not only to fund the tidal turbine pilot, but to jointly develop and patent the reactive cladding system, with royalties flowing to the Lysterin-Aquillian treasury."
He placed the signed document on the table. The room erupted into murmurs. Argenthelm gave a regal nod of confirmation.
Berrick looked stunned. The financial cornerstone of his attack had just been turned to gold.
Hadrian continued. "As for leadership…" He turned his gaze to Rian. "Prince Rian, as the primary liaison for this commission with the treasury, can you confirm the status of the project's finances?"
Rian stepped forward, his diplomat's mask flawless. "The wetland allocation budget has been audited and approved by three independent offices. It is not only sound, but cost-effective compared to post-disaster reconstruction. Any suggestion of fiscal negligence is… factually incorrect." He didn't look at Berrick, but the dismissal was total.
Berrick spluttered. "This is a diversion! A theatrical display!"
"No,Lord Berrick," Seraphina said, rising now, her voice clear as a bell. "This is evidence. You sought to question my judgment by mocking a creative process you cannot understand. You have been answered by the market and by the treasury. But your concerns run deeper, don't they? To the personal. To the 'unprofessional intimacies.'" She used his own phrase from the terrace, and saw the first flicker of real fear in his eyes.
She didn't elaborate. She didn't need to. The display of unity—Hadrian's decisive action, Argenthelm's investment, Rian's calm corroboration—had utterly dismantled the narrative of a distracted, emotionally compromised leader. The pincer movement had been met with a fortress.
"The motion for review is out of order," Lady Thorne said, seizing the moment. "We have a full agenda. I call the question on the wetland allocation."
The vote was called. The "Ayes" were strong and clear. Berrick's "Nay" was a sullen, defeated whisper. Corso and Vayne voted "Aye."
The funding was secured. Seraphina's chairmanship was not just intact; it was impregnable. The first part of the reckoning was complete.