Dawn in Obsidiana brought no peace. This morning's atmosphere felt heavier. Elara had just finished her cleansing ritual under Martha's efficient and expressionless supervision. Martha's movements were always measured, as if every second she used had been calculated into the imperial schedule. This morning, a new order came: Elara must appear in the Black Circle Hall, Valerion's highest political decision-making center.
"Wear this," Martha handed her a dark gray silk robe. "The Emperor does not tolerate lateness. Today you are required to provide analysis, not merely examine documents."
Elara donned the robe with steady fingers. Kaelen was no longer placing her behind stacks of archives. She was being pulled into the public arena, forced to stand in the center of a circle of power that could destroy her at any moment if she misspoke.
The Black Circle Hall was designed to intimidate anyone who entered. Its high ceiling created deep echoes. In the center of the room, a giant round table was surrounded by ministers, generals, and high nobles. When Elara entered with an escort of four soldiers, conversation ceased. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared at her with a mixture of contempt and cold curiosity. At the head of the table, Kaelen waited.
Kaelen pointed to a backless chair placed directly behind his position. That position physically affirmed Elara's status: at the center of power, yet still the emperor's property.
"We are discussing the food crisis in the Eastern territories, specifically Astapura," Kaelen's voice cut through the silence. "Military reports state that the fields there were destroyed by residents before the annexation was completed. Grain supplies are dwindling, and this threatens the stability of our forces at the border."
Lord Vane stood. A thin smirk appeared on his face. "The problem is simple, Your Majesty. The people of Astapura are rebels. If they destroyed their own food sources, let them bear the consequences. Take the remaining grain in their warehouses for military supplies. We don't need to feed an uncooperative population."
Kaelen did not respond. He turned his chair, looking at Elara who sat upright. "Princess Elara, you managed the distribution system there previously. What is your technical analysis of Lord Vane's proposal?"
Elara stood slowly. She recognized the logical trap behind this question. If she defended her people based on sentiment, she would be deemed disloyal. If she supported Vane, she would help slaughter her own nation.
"Lord Vane's suggestion is very effective if the Empire's goal is to control territory without a productive population," Elara said, her voice clear. "Send all grain to the troops, and you gain obedience from dead residents. However, within one quarter, your logistics routes will collapse because there's no workforce for the next planting cycle. Your troops may be full today, but will face a greater food crisis in the coming season."
Elara took a deep breath. She had to use logic acceptable to Valerion's war machine.
"My proposal is to convert aid into forced labor wages. Don't give grain as charity. Give it as compensation for every family that sends male labor to repair dams and irrigation systems. Those who work will receive food rations sufficient to survive. Those who refuse will be punished as a public warning. Hunger will force them to work more efficiently than the threat of whips."
As Elara presented this calculation of stomachs, Kaelen straightened his back. He observed Elara's face with intellectual interest. He saw a woman capable of suppressing her moral emotions for a pragmatic solution.
"The decision is made," Kaelen said flatly. "Implement Princess Elara's plan. Lord Vane, you bear full responsibility for technical execution in the field. If within thirty days the dam is not functional, that failure will be considered sabotage against the military."
Lord Vane's face paled. He now bore heavy responsibility for a strategy formulated by the woman he wanted to eliminate.
After the session, Elara walked back to her room. She felt the weight on her shoulders. She had become part of the mechanism oppressing her own nation. However, she realized one thing: to survive in Obsidiana, she had to think as cruelly as her opponents.
Kaelen caught up to her in the corridor, signaling the guards to keep their distance.
"Sharp analysis," Kaelen said quietly.
"I only provided the solution you wanted to hear, Your Majesty," Elara answered without turning. "You threw me in there to see if I would collapse or start using your power logic."
Kaelen stopped, forcing Elara to stop as well. He observed Elara's face under the corridor's minimal lighting. "You used logic sharper than I predicted. But remember, those nobles will not accept today's humiliation quietly. They will search for every gap in your every step."
"I'm aware of that," Elara looked directly into Kaelen's eyes. "Including the fact that you are the first person who will execute me if my usefulness ends."
Kaelen curved a thin smile. "I don't want you to fail as long as you remain profitable. However, if your intelligence begins to damage the imperial structure, I will not hesitate to stop you permanently."
Kaelen turned toward the military wing, leaving Elara alone.
That night, Elara sat in her darkened room. Martha remained standing in the corner like a static surveillance instrument. Elara touched the small dagger hidden beneath the bed's lining fabric. Its metal felt cold, in harmony with her decision now fully focused on survival logic. She had entered Valerion's political vortex, and there was no way back.
In his study, Kaelen stared at the map of the Eastern territories. He realized he had not merely brought a prisoner; he had introduced an unexpected intellectual variable into his system. Elara was a force that could strengthen his throne or become the crack that would collapse the stability of his power from within.
Kaelen extinguished the candle on his desk. In that darkness, the Emperor realized he had found the only opponent who had the capacity to truly threaten his position.