Chapter six - Whispers at the Golden Table
"At the golden table, no one dines alone. Everyone watches—and is watched."
---
It happened just before Ayanth and Iswar left the royal dining hall. It wasn't something remarkable to those who witnessed it, but to the Emperor—it was a moment worthy of being immortalized.
The Emperor posed his question suddenly, in a calm that resembled wounds which bleed no blood:
"Ayanth, why do you behave this way?"
The table wasn't prepared for the question. In fact, no one was.
Spoons halted mid-air, the princes' glances slowed, and the warmth that had filled the room turned into a question suspended in the air.
Yet Ayanth didn't take long. With calculated slowness, he raised his hand to his hair, smoothing it as though brushing off invisible ash, then replied with a faint smile:
"Forgive me, Your Majesty… but your question is unclear. Do you mean the way I sit? Or the way I smile?"
There was something playful in his tone, but it wasn't true play.
The Emperor stared at him for a long moment, then set down his spoon and spoke with greater solemnity:
"I dislike masks... Just tell me: what has changed in you?"
It wasn't a question that called for a direct answer.
Sometimes adults ask children things, just to see if they're still children.
A short silence. Then Ayanth finally moved, as if shifting from one state to another.
He wiped his face with his hand, as though the smile had clung to his skin, then breathed slowly and said, in a voice closer to a sigh:
"A deceptive smile is not used to deceive the strong, but to shield them from the truth."
His tone shifted as he said it, then he stood with subtle poise, placing his hand on the sheath of his deep blue leather sword.
And in his eyes… cold. Not the cold of winter, but the chill carved into stone that never knew warmth.
A moment of silence.
Then those features vanished as if they had never been, and the child returned, soft-faced, simply saying:
"I'm only joking, Your Majesty. Please, enjoy your meal before it gets cold."
But something inside him… wasn't joking.
…
Then—as if the inside of his mind had opened without permission—a distant image flowed into him:
Iswar, seated on one of the stone steps in a half-forgotten corner of the palace garden, quietly reading from an old poem scroll:
> "A man is not tested when he strikes, but when he stands without trembling."
"All that stirs outside you is born of a shiver within."
Iswar had been young back then, but he recited the lines slowly, as if he understood every word.
His voice carried an unusual note, stripped of childish pride, filled with a kind of steadiness that knew no age.
Ayanth, in the present, didn't know why he remembered this now.
"What does any of this have to do with my answer? Was I trembling inside to say what I said?"
It felt as though the answer had come from his heart, not his mouth—and as if Iswar, in his absence, had shown him how to stand.
Ayanth shook his head internally, puzzled.
"Am I imitating you without knowing?"
But he didn't finish the thought. He simply sat down, and the moment passed as though it had never occurred.
The Emperor said playfully:
"Hmm... seems fine. Go on, enjoy your meal."
And the atmosphere returned to what it had been.
---
// From the Perspective of Emperor Isad //
I don't know why this lunch came to mind.
Perhaps I'd grown tired of the endless noble meetings, filled with voices swollen with empty words, and smiles unworthy even of statues.
Or maybe… I missed something far simpler than that:
Their faces.
All I did was send my servant to arrange it discreetly.
And when I returned from one of the discussions, I noticed some names were absent—Saynar among them. I thought about it for a moment, then forgot.
I don't attend these gatherings for their sake anyway.
...
When I entered the dining hall, I saw them.
My little ones. My fledglings.
Those who carry half my features and half my dreams—or perhaps nothing of me but the titles.
Even Ayanth… looked sweet.
I began the meal as usual, asked about their well-being in a tone more casual than official—a tone I hadn't used in ages.
I don't know what changed, but seeing them all before me stirred something inside.
I melted a little.
And I—a melting emperor? Ha...
I was thinking:
How do I choose one for succession?
And where do I place the rest?
Especially the two girls… I don't want them to become merchandise in some arranged marriage.
I must speak to their mothers soon.
...
But amid the softening air, I noticed something… off.
A faint tone… a barely visible movement… a very light shadow.
I showed nothing.
An emperor doesn't show that he sees.
But I knew someone was watching.
And from the corner of my eye, I saw that Iswar had noticed too. His face was far too still to be normal.
Ayanth also noticed. Perhaps… before I did.
That boy… I'm no longer certain he's still a boy.
The way he responded? No, that wasn't chance.
Even that cryptic reply—"A deceptive smile is not used to deceive the strong, but to shield them from the truth."
—was more like the hint of a hired assassin than a child smoothing his hair.
And when he stood, for a moment, I felt something like a threat—
Not toward me, but toward his very way of thinking.
Could it be I'm raising two monsters in this palace?
Smiling at the world while testing its steel?
Chewing through time slowly, as if awaiting a signal I know nothing of?
Then suddenly, everything receded.
Ayanth returned to his sweet self, the air lightened, and calm swept in as if it had never broken.
Without thinking, I said:
"Seems I've grown too old for jokes..."
I ran a hand through my hair, trying not to laugh.
But their laughter… pulled me in.
I laughed—simply—as I hadn't in a long time.
If I weren't Emperor… and these chicks were around me,
Life would've been less serious. More comforting.
...
I gazed at them in long silence.
Wondering if my fate is merely to watch them grow… without ever fully understanding them.
---
// From the Perspective of the Third Prince – Light //
Gold decorates everything around us—even the air.
Sunlight fractured over the goblets makes this lunch feel less like reality and more like a painting rendered to perfection, to the point of exaggeration.
And yet,
Tension… hovered.
I mean, no one spoke of it, no one pointed it out, but it was there.
At the edge of every plate, under every courteous joke, in the way our father watched Ayanth with a half-smile that never reached his eyes.
I didn't hear exactly what he said to him.
But I saw lips move… and saw Ayanth's face change for a second, then recover his smile as if nothing happened.
That kind of shift doesn't slip past me.
Ayanth's good at pretending? Perhaps.
But he's also good at disappearing… behind words, behind silence.
I began weighing possibilities.
Was this a test?
Was Father interrogating him?
Or… warning him? Or gauging his reaction?
I hesitated for a moment and instinctively turned to my twin, Selan.
As if she felt me.
She didn't look at me directly. Instead, she picked a small apple from her dish, turned it in her fingers, then took a calm bite before glancing at me for just a second.
Then she smiled.
A very faint smile, tilted to one side,
And everything in it said:
"I understand… I'll follow up. Relax."
I answered with a barely visible nod, then continued eating as if nothing had occurred.
…
But inside?
I'm recording everything.
Every word, every movement, every tiny inconsistency.
We are children of a king, yes,
But we are not a normal family.
Each person at this table is hiding something,
And every moment of peace… is just a pause in the war.
A gilded pause.
And just before the last dishes were cleared—
Iswar whispered into his brother's ear:
"It's time."
Ayanth didn't reply. He simply rose quietly, wiped his hands with the white linen napkin, and followed him out of the hall in silence.
No one noticed—or at least, that's how they wanted it to seem.
Only Selan, who had been peeling grape skin with care, raised her eyes and noted what she saw without a word.
The table was still full of laughter…
But behind the wooden doors,
The story had already begun to shift.