The grand ballroom of the Dianoid Palace was a sea of shimmering glass and rigid tradition. Every surface was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the sharp, geometric suits of the nobility. At the center of it all, the Prince felt the weight of his royal mantle like a lead anchor. The music was a rhythmic, mathematical hum that felt more like a clock ticking than a celebration.
He waited for the exact moment the High Archon began his toast to the Crown. As the eyes of the court turned toward the dais, the Prince stepped backward into the shadows of a heavy silk curtain. He slipped through a side door and navigated the servant corridors with practiced ease, stripping off his heavy ceremonial sash as he went.
Minutes later, he emerged into the cool, damp air of the Under-Grid. He pulled a dark, hooded cloak over his tunic to hide the diamond-crested collar of his house. Down here, the city was built of heavy stone and glowing blue conduits. It was the only place he felt he could breathe without a script.
He was cutting through a narrow alleyway near the border district when he heard it—the sharp, metallic scrape of a heavy power terminal being pried open. He stopped, his hand resting on the hilt of his ceremonial blade. A figure was hunched over a flickering junction box, their hands moving with frantic speed. They were draped in a tattered cloak patterned with overlapping circles, a style that was unmistakably Cirnoid.
"That terminal is royal property," he said, his voice calm but carrying the undeniable edge of authority.
The girl jumped, nearly dropping a handful of copper wiring. She spun around, her hood falling back to reveal soft, rounded features and wide, panicked eyes. She looked at his boots, then his cloak, and finally the sharp, polished angles of his face.
"A Facet," she whispered, her voice trembling as she backed away against the cold stone wall.
The Prince didn't call for the city guards. Instead, he reached up and pulled back his own hood, letting the dim light of a flickering streetlamp catch the signet ring on his finger.
"My name is Corvus," he said, the name sounding heavy and sharp in the quiet alley. "And as the Prince of this kingdom, I usually prefer it when people don't try to sabotage my city's power grid."
