Downfall -

The Chamberlain’s smile thinned. “It was deemed prudent, Sire. Caelus was old. His hands shook. He spilled a drop yesterday on the ceremonial map.”

The news arrived like a stone dropped into a still pond. Valerius dismissed the court. He walked the length of his empty throne room, his boots clicking on the polished obsidian floor. He passed the Throne of Screens, where a thousand holographic displays showed him the state of his empire: trade routes, fleet positions, public sentiment indices. Everything was green. Everything was stable. Downfall

“Replaced?” Valerius set the cup down. The tink echoed again, louder this time. “I gave no such order.” The Chamberlain’s smile thinned

Valerius felt something he hadn’t felt in forty years: a flicker of uncertainty. He had not noticed the spilled drop. He had not noticed Caelus’s shaking hands. What else had he not noticed? His hands shook

Valerius turned slowly, the weight of his purple cloak shifting like a storm cloud. The courtiers in the antechamber fell silent. Their practiced smiles faltered. They saw the slight twitch in his jaw, the way his fingers drummed once, twice on the cup’s golden handle.