I rubbed my eyes, bringing a cup of tea to my lips and sipping lightly while staring out a window.

  The morning sun painted everything in shades of gold and amber. Outside, potted plants hung from the balcony railing - carefully maintained flowers that added color to the otherwise austere stone architecture. A white dove landed on the rail with soft precision, head tilting as it studied me with one dark eye.

  I stared back, mind elsewhere.

  Exhaustion pressed down like a physical weight. Last night's violence replayed behind my eyes - blood, screams, the wet sound of mangled flesh. A plea cut short by a bullet. Dominic vomiting in an alley. The way Madame Monique had smiled through a mask of someone else's blood.

  I had seen worse, but I would be lying if I said it didn't affect me a little.

  No matter how hard I tried, I never really could shake off the feeling of unease from taking a life.

  The dove cocked its head the other way now, not willing to look me in the eyes.

  "Are you alright?"

  The voice was soft, feminine, concerned.

  I blinked. The dove startled and took flight, white wings catching the morning light as it disappeared over the rooftops.

  I turned with a smile, one that I hoped reached my eyes.

  "Of course. Just tired, is all."

  Mary sat across from me at the small table, her own cup of tea raised halfway to her lips. Golden eyes studied me with the kind of attention that saw through what I couldn't comprehend. Her expression carried faint concern beneath carefully maintained composure.

  She sipped her tea, the cup returning to rest near rose-colored lips.

  "You should see a médecin about your insomnia. It's getting worse."

  I shook my head. "I don't have the time."

  Her eyes rolled with the exasperation of someone who'd heard that excuse too many times. But then she smiled - gentle, almost teasing. "Maybe you should pray on it."

  I nodded, matching her tone with light exacerbation.

  "Since I am your ecclesiastical assistant, perhaps I should."

  Mary's smile widened slightly as she looked out the window herself, watching the distant activity of students crossing the Academy grounds below.

  "Maybe you should. It would do you some good."

  She finished her tea with practiced elegance, setting the cup down with barely a sound. "Since it's the weekend, I have some meetings to conduct. I'd like you to stay, which is half the reason I summoned you here."

  My eyebrows rose.

  "Me?"

  She nodded. "I'm meeting with the Duc de Valois's daughter. Isabelle de Valois." The French names rolled off her tongue with perfect pronunciation.

  "Among the High Nobility, their family is mostly unaligned in the succession race. Neutral ground, so to speak."

  "You're meeting to lobby them?"

  "No." Mary shook her head. "Not yet. Isabelle is the head of the unspoken nobility faction within the Academy - and a cousin of mine who was quite close to me as a child. I initiated this meeting of my own accord."

  I sighed, sipping the last of my tea. "So you're still bent on reshaping the Academy, aren't you?"

  Mary's expression shifted to something more serious. Determined. "Something has to change, Damian."

  She leaned forward slightly, eyes filled with a certainly that was all too foreign to most.

  "The divide between the nobility and commoners in the Academy manifests everywhere. Whether it's the alienation and isolation directed at nobles who dare associate with commoners, or the disdain and outright social bullying directed toward those of lower birth..." She paused, frustration bleeding into her voice. "No wonder the Empire's citizens have become so disillusioned in the last half-century."

  Her eyes met mine directly.

  "We are teaching the next generation of nobility to discriminate against their fellow Imperial citizens before they even enter Imperial society. And the commoners only react in kind, creating even more hatred. It becomes a cycle that feeds itself." She took a breath. "Something has to change. First here, at the Academy. Then the Empire as a whole. Or the world will force us to change - and the world will be much crueler than any reform we could implement ourselves."

  I smiled, nodding my approval. "I couldn't have said it any better myself."

  Mary returned the smile with something knowing in her eyes. "I thought you would agree if I focused on the more pragmatic aspect of it all."

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  I set down my empty cup.

  "I'm in agreement with eliminating the increasingly widening class boundaries in the Empire. But I'll be honest - my main concern is the survival of the Empire itself, not the inequality. Though fixing the inequality within the Empire is an excellent byproduct." I paused. "If the Empire falls, countless people will die. Everything else is secondary to preventing that."

  Mary's expression softened with understanding. "I know. And I'm grateful to have someone who agrees so readily, yet speaks their truth freely. Someone who I can speak my mind with in turn." Her smile turned slightly sad. "If I spoke like this in front of other nobles, I fear I'd be treated as a social outcast among my peers. Perhaps worse."

  "You would be," I agreed bluntly. "So you still believe reform is the right answer? Even knowing the resistance you'll face?"

  Mary's voice dropped to something solemn. "It's either reform or revolution, Damian. My other siblings among the royal court don't see this - or they believe they have the ability to solve it without reform. A path paved with blood and corpses." Her hands tightened around her dress, ever so slightly. "I choose the path paved with less blood. Even if I have to give mine in the process."

  My eyebrows twitched slightly.

  "It won't come to that."

  Mary smiled reassuringly.

  "Yes, I know. Only a figure of speech."

  Her eyes quickly blazed with determination.

  "I must ascend the throne. No matter the cost. And my ideals must start here, at the roots of the Empire's next generation. If I can change how nobility and commoners interact at the Academy, I can change how they interact in the Empire itself. The cure to this disease must start with the seeds of the new generation."

  A small silence followed, before I starting clapping lightly, smiling in encouragement.

  "I will follow you for as long as I draw breath. And for as long as you maintain such ideals."

  Mary's face lit up with genuine happiness, her eyes gleaming with newfound confidence.

  "Thank you, Damian. You still remain one of my closest confidants."

  "So..." I shifted the subject. "When is Isabelle arriving?"

  Mary glanced toward the window, gauging the sun's position. "What time is it?"

  I pulled out my pocket watch, checking the hands. "Ten forty-three."

  "Around eleven, then. But expect her five minutes early - it's proper courtesy among nobility." She turned her attention back to me. "Did you bring your ceremonial ecclesiastical clothing?"

  "Yes."

  Marys smile turned mischievous, an expression I rarely saw on her usually docile or happy face.

  "Good. Put it on before she arrives. I'll be using you as leverage. Isabelle is very religious, you see. Devout in that particular way high nobles are when it benefits their image."

  Her mischievous smile widened even more. "I may even get you to use scripture. Backing someone like her into a religious compromise would be quite entertaining, non?"

  I stood, moving toward the adjacent room where I'd left my things with a strained smile. "Mary, you've truly became worthy to be called your Uncles niece. You're cunning expression unfortunately matches his almost perfectly." I said with some difficulty.

  Mary's laugh followed me through the doorway.

  The ecclesiastical robes were simple but elegant - black fabric that fell to mid-calf, marked with subtle silver threading along the hems. A silver necklace bearing a small mask pendant completed the ensemble. Unlike the elaborate vestments of higher clergy, an assistant's attire was deliberately understated.

  I emerged back into the main room.

  Mary looked up, and something like amusement and lingering mischievousness danced in her golden eyes.

  "You look good, Brother Damian."

  I placed a hand over my necklace and bowed deeply.

  "Thank you, Sister Mary."

  Her smile remained as she gestured to the space behind her chair. "She should be arriving any minute. I am sorry for making you do this, but could you please stand behind me?"

  I nodded, moving into position. "Don't apologize. I'm used to Imperial customs by now."

  I settled into a formal stance.

  It shows how much power those of the Church truly possess, To stand in the same room as a princess and a future duchess.

  Though, I guess my social standing is still a bit... unique.

  "I know little about Isabelle," Mary said quietly. "We haven't met since we were children. But from what I could gather, she's as cunning as she is pleasant. In any sense, do not mistake pleasant for kind."

  She paused, organizing her thoughts.

  "Most likely, she is here to relinquish her position as head of the nobility faction - or at least discuss succession. But if she has done her research and found out about my... sympathies, she'll probably try to influence my opinions. Possibly gain some leverage for herself in the process." Mary's shoulders straightened. "I can handle this on my own. But I'd like your backup when necessary."

  A light knock sounded at the door.

  Three precise taps. Perfectly spaced.

  Mary stood, hands clasped behind her back in a posture of authority tempered with openness. "Let her in."

  The door slowly opened.

  Two elite guards flanked the outside entrance - rifles held at parade rest, uniforms pristine, faces locked in expressions of professional vigilance. They didn't enter, just created a corridor of military precision through which their charge could pass.

  A young woman stepped through.

  Blonde hair arranged in an elaborate style that probably took an hour to achieve. Green eyes sharp with intelligence. Same height as Mary, same pale complexion, same bearing that came from generations of noble breeding. She wore a dress that managed to be both modest and expensive - white fabric with gold embroidery, cut to emphasize elegance over provocation.

  The door closed behind her.

  She immediately dropped to one knee, hand over heart. "Your Highness."

  Mary nodded with a small smile. "Please, rise, cousin."

  Isabelle stood with fluid grace, then turned her attention to me. She bowed - not as deeply as she had to Mary, but with clear respect.

  "Brother Damian, I presume?"

  I returned the bow with equal measure. "Yes. It's an honor to be present."

  Her smile shifted - halfway between sly and polite, like someone playing a game. "Considering how favored you are by the Lord Regent, it's not inappropriate at all. May I add..." Her eyes glinted as she glanced at my uniform. "I am also glad you've taken to the clergy. In times of great strife, tradition is what keeps us afloat."

  Ah, there it is.

  She was already positioning herself. Aligning with tradition and established order. Subtly suggesting that reform - Mary's entire agenda - went against the stability the Empire needed.

  A warning shot across the bow, delivered with a smile.

  I kept my expression neutral, offering a small nod. "Of course, Lady Isabelle. The Church provides foundation when all else shifts beneath our feet."

  Deliberately vague. Could mean anything. Committed to nothing.

  Mary gestured to the chair across from her.

  "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

  Isabelle settled into the offered seat with practiced elegance, arranging her dress precisely.

  Mary resumed her own seat, and the real negotiation began.

  I stood behind Mary's chair, hands clasped, face serene, smile pristine.

  The perfect image of ecclesiastical assistance.

  This is annoying.

  I only hoped my face wouldn't get stuck this way.

  For now, I would cataloged every word, every gesture, every subtle shift in this chess game between cousins.

  One fighting for reform.

  One defending tradition.

  Both intelligent enough to smile while maneuvering for advantage.

  This was going to be interesting.