Narisva turned her eyes toward him and asked a question.
"Veneri... how do mages increase their Star Levels?"
That got a hum out of him. He lazily ran a hand through his soaked hair.
"Same way weapon masters improve with practice. You don't get better with a blade unless you swing it a million times. For mages, it's Mystic Circles, runes and spells. We train, refine, and evolve until our control and output increases."
He glanced at his hand, letting a faint runic glow spiral across his palm.
"Circlecrafters like me are a different thing, though. We don't just use Circles. We create them from scratch. That's how I improve my Star Level-by upgrading the Control Circle I invented."
Phaenora raised an eyebrow. "And what Star are you on now, Veneri?"
"Seventh. And I've been stuck there for six years now."
That got a round of surprised reactions. Even Adelasta blinked. He chuckled, stretching out again.
"Yep. Circlecraft Mages don't have it easy. My Control Circle is absurdly complex, and adjusting it without destabilizing everything else is like defusing a bomb while blindfolded."
Elyonari's serene voice drifted in. "And what's the breakthrough you need?"
"I need to change the entire feedback loop structure in the core circuit..Right now, it can't handle the energy needed for Eighth Star. I have a few ideas, but... yeah. It's a nightmare."
"You make it sound so casual, like you didn't just say 'reconstructing a mystic neural lattice core' like it was lunchtime gossip."
"When you've banged your head against the same arcane wall for six years Nari, you get weirdly knowledgeable about it."
Asenane suddenly burst out laughing. "Six years?! Darling, you've got time. I'm nearly nine thousand years old!"
He gave her a dry look. "Right, right. You don't look a day over... eight thousand."
Phaenora giggled and leaned on his shoulder.
"You're still a baby to us."
Narisva raised her hand, fingers splayed.
"I'm thirty-three, actually."
There was a full second of stunned silence. Elyonari slowly turned to look at her.
"You're what?"
"Thirty-three. Didn't I mention that?"
Vastarael blinked. "Wait. Wait, wait-what?"
Asenane sat up in the spring with a scandalized gasp.
"You're younger than him?!"
"I slept through seven thousand seven hundred years, remember? Technically speaking, I'm 7,727."
"You're ancient."
"Oh, shut it, Phae."
Vastarael rolled his eyes as he got to his feet. The water cascaded down his torso as he stepped out, grabbing a royal blue towel from the rack near the spring.
"But anyway, today's the Dynasty Meeting."
That sobered the room quickly.
"Everything's prepped. I reviewed the status reports, confirmed the city formations and such. We're ready."
He glanced at them all, pausing on Narisva.
"And you, Nari, I want you to come along."
"...Why? I'm not—"
"You're not involved. I know. You made your vow to Spheraphase, and you won't interfere with politics. I'm not asking you to. Just observe. Be a bystander. That's allowed, right?"
She crossed her arms, thinking. Then she gave a small nod.
"Yeah. I can witness things. Not interfere. That's fine."
The others nodded their approval, too.
"Good. And just a heads-up, I'll be in 'Monarch Mode' today. That means I might seem a little cold or... passive."
"You're always cold," Adelasta muttered.
"Fair. But today it'll be the official kind."
Phaenora waved it off. "We don't mind. Go full Monarch. We'll handle it."
Vastarael's tone dropped slightly, just a shade lower, a breath closer to authority.
"Alright, then. Get ready. I want everyone dressed and waiting within the hour."
He walked off down the marble pathway, steam still clinging to the air behind him, and the five women slowly began emerging from the spring.
Elyonari quietly whispered, "He really is 7,727 years old..."
Asenane chuckled softly. "He wears it well."
Narisva just looked after him for a moment and murmured.
"Monarch Mode, huh... Alright then. Let's see what that looks like."