The throne hall smelled of incense and authority.
Marble pillars stretched toward a domed ceiling painted with the founding myths of Kollar. The crimson carpet felt heavy beneath James' boots as he walked forward.
Every step echoed.
Every gaze weighed him.
At the end of the hall, King Aldric Hader watched silently.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Crown of black iron resting like a burden rather than decoration. His eyes were not warm.
They were assessing.
"James," the King's voice rolled across the chamber. "You look well."
"I am well, Father."
A lie.
But a necessary one.
James bowed just enough to show respect — not submission.
He felt it immediately.
That burning crimson glow to the right.
The man standing three steps below the throne.
Tall. Lean. Black hair streaked with silver. Eyes like sharpened knives.
"Duke Varhen," the voice inside James whispered.
"You know him?"
"I know his desire."
James' gaze shifted subtly.
Duke Varhen's chest radiated dark red.
Not ambition for wealth.
Not ambition for love.
Power.
Control.
Throne.
That glow pulsed stronger when the King looked tired.
Interesting.
The court session began.
Petitions. Trade disputes. Border tensions.
James remained silent.
Observing.
Watching.
Measuring.
For the first time, the world felt layered.
Every noble glowed differently.
Some weak flickers.
Some strong flares.
Some corrupted, unstable.
And then—
He focused.
Not intentionally.
Just curiosity.
His vision narrowed toward a nearby minor noble.
A baron arguing about land rights.
The man's Desire Core glowed a pale orange.
Greed for status.
James inhaled slowly.
"What happens if I try?" he asked internally.
"Focus," the voice answered.
"On what?"
"On hunger."
Hunger.
He had felt that before.
In the palace corridor.
With Elia.
That pull.
He steadied his breathing.
He did not move.
He did not gesture.
He simply…
Willed.
The warmth in his chest shifted.
The Infinite Vault stirred.
The world around him dimmed slightly.
And then—
A thread.
A thin golden-orange thread extended from the baron's chest.
Invisible to everyone else.
Visible to him.
James' pulse quickened.
"I can see it."
"Yes."
The thread trembled.
Tempting.
All he had to do was—
Pull.
He resisted.
"Control first," the voice warned.
Smart.
Always control first.
He imagined grasping only a fragment.
Not all.
Just… a taste.
Carefully—
He pulled.
The thread tightened.
The baron faltered mid-sentence.
"…as I was saying—"
His confidence wavered.
His tone softened.
He seemed uncertain.
James felt it.
A small spark entered his chest.
Warm.
Sharp.
Not overwhelming.
Just a fragment.
Inside him, the Vault stored it.
"What did I take?"
"Ambition for recognition."
James' lips barely curved.
The baron bowed more quickly than before and ended his argument weakly.
The Duke noticed.
Duke Varhen's eyes narrowed.
Sharp man.
He senses shifts.
Good.
James withdrew completely.
The thread vanished.
The baron's glow dimmed slightly.
Not destroyed.
Just reduced.
"So I can take pieces," James thought.
"Yes."
"And if I pull harder?"
"You will drain them entirely."
"And?"
"They will become hollow."
James considered that.
Hollow people.
Tools without desire.
Dangerous.
Useful.
Addicting.
The King's voice cut through his thoughts.
"James."
He looked up.
"Yes, Father?"
"You've been quiet."
"Listening."
A pause.
"Do you have an opinion on the eastern border dispute?"
This was a test.
The Duke's crimson glow intensified.
He wanted James to speak foolishly.
James calculated quickly.
He had taken a fragment of ambition.
It hummed inside him.
Sharpening clarity.
He could feel the baron's desire blending slightly with his own mind.
Interesting.
"I believe," James began calmly, "that deploying additional troops would only expose weakness."
Murmurs.
He continued.
"If we reinforce trade alliances instead, we strengthen loyalty without appearing threatened."
The Duke's eyes flickered.
That was not the expected answer.
The King leaned forward slightly.
"And if they invade anyway?"
James held his father's gaze.
"Then they will believe we are unprepared."
Silence.
A few generals stiffened.
"And?"
James' voice lowered slightly.
"And that is when we strike decisively. After they overextend."
The hall grew quiet.
The Duke's crimson glow shifted.
Not weaker.
More intense.
Interest.
The King leaned back.
"Caution disguised as vulnerability."
James bowed slightly.
"Yes."
A slow smile appeared on the King's lips.
"Perhaps you have matured."
Duke Varhen stepped forward smoothly.
"Or perhaps," he said silkily, "His Highness has learned to mask recklessness more elegantly."
A direct challenge.
James met his gaze.
Their Desire Cores flickered against each other.
The Duke's was vast.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
James felt the Vault react again.
Hungry.
Not for a baron's scraps this time.
For something grand.
He resisted.
Not yet.
"You flatter me, Duke," James replied calmly.
"I am merely learning."
The Duke studied him.
Searching.
For weakness.
For instability.
For fear.
He found none.
Good.
The court session concluded shortly after.
As nobles began to leave—
James felt something strange.
The fragment he had taken earlier…
Was dissolving.
No.
Integrating.
He felt slightly more confident.
Slightly sharper.
"Temporary?" he asked internally.
"No," the voice replied.
"You have added it to your Vault."
"So I grow through theft."
"Yes."
He walked toward the exit.
And that's when he felt it.
A flicker behind him.
Crimson.
Closer now.
Duke Varhen approached.
"Your Highness."
James turned smoothly.
"Yes, Duke?"
Varhen smiled politely.
But his eyes were cold.
"You seem… different."
"So I've been told."
The Duke leaned slightly closer.
"Be careful in this palace."
James tilted his head.
"Oh?"
"Desire is dangerous."
The irony almost made him laugh.
"I'll keep that in mind."
Varhen's gaze lingered one second too long.
Then he walked away.
James watched him go.
"That man will move soon," the voice whispered.
"Yes," James agreed quietly.
He touched his chest lightly.
The Infinite Vault pulsed.
He had tasted desire.
Just a fragment.
And already—
He wanted more.