Kenneth chewed thoughtfully, watching him over the edge of his bread.
"Go on."
"The gala is a means to an end."
"What end?"
Lucien's expression remained blank. "To gather everyone who's powerful in the country in one place and level them."
Kenneth stopped chewing. He swallowed."Level them?"
"Assess them. Measure their influence. Determine who's aligned with whom, who's gained power since the last gathering, who's losing their grip, and who's become a threat to someone else's interests."
Lucien reached for another piece of bread, tearing off a small corner with his fingers.
"Life is political, Kenneth. Everything is political. Money, military authority, enhanced human rankings, the gates, even the people we choose to stand beside. A gala is simply another arena for people to exercise their power without having to draw a weapon."
He popped the bread into his mouth and chewed. "It's a power play dressed up in expensive clothes and charitable intentions."
