Chapter 7: The Black Crown Invitation
Three days after the quiet fall of the Galtien Empire, a black envelope arrived.
No stamp. No seal. No courier.
It was simply there — on Lucien's desk, waiting for his eyes.
The moment he touched it, a jolt of dark energy rippled up his arm.
Forbidden ink. Memory-bound.
He opened it carefully.
Inside, a single card:
> To the Young Architect of Collapse,
The Court of the Black Crown extends an invitation.
Come alone. Midnight. Fourteenth bell. The Hollow Chapel.
Refusal is not advised.
— The Eye Behind the Veil
Lucien leaned back, expression calm.
The Black Crown Court.
The name was rarely spoken, even in underground circles. A shadow council that operated outside the World Table. Neither legal nor illegal — something beyond. It was said to include cursed bloodlines, rogue emperors, fallen saints, and immortals banished from time.
An organization that ruled the void between power structures.
They didn't deal in gold or territory.
They dealt in balance — tipping global power scales in subtle, irreversible ways.
Lucien had just made them interested.
---
Midnight – The Hollow Chapel
A crumbling cathedral hidden beneath the eastern cliffs, lost to history and erased from maps. The air was thick with incense and time.
Lucien stepped inside, alone.
Twelve figures in black veils sat in a half-circle around a floating obsidian crown. Their faces were obscured, their voices layered with magic.
The one in the center spoke.
"We watched Galtien fall without a single blade drawn."
Another added, "You move like the old ones. No ego. No noise. Just results."
Lucien remained silent, studying the formation, memorizing the voice tones, the positions, the ambient magical traces.
He would remember everything.
"You've earned our attention," said the central figure. "And our offer."
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"
A scroll appeared before him — blood-red parchment.
> "We offer influence in the Court. Access to forbidden networks. Resources beyond your current reach. In exchange…"
"…You become one of us."
Lucien said nothing for a long time.
Then: "No."
A ripple of silence. Power stirred.
One of the veiled ones hissed, "Do not test us, boy."
Lucien's eyes gleamed.
"I won't join the Court," he said softly. "I'll outgrow it. And when I do, you'll work for me."
Tension snapped across the chamber like breaking glass.
But the central figure… laughed.
Low. Amused. Dangerous.
"…We like you, Lucien Valtore," the voice said. "Arrogance is common. But precision-backed arrogance? That's rare."
The obsidian crown shimmered.
> "We accept your refusal… and recognize your claim."
The crown split into twelve fragments — and one floated toward Lucien, embedding itself into the air beside him.
A token. A warning. An acknowledgment.
"You now walk the edge of the veil," the figure said. "Tread carefully, young king."
Lucien turned, walking into the night.
He now had the eyes of the most dangerous council on the planet — and their recognition.
Not as a member.
But as a rival.
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