The golden gates of Aurelia closed behind them with a sound like thunder.

  Karl sat in the carriage, unmoving, his hands folded in his lap. He could still feel the weight of those gates slamming shut—less like an entrance, more like a prison door.

  They had arrived.

  Aurelia, capital of the Empire. The golden crown of the continent. Its streets gleamed with polished stone, its towers stretched into the sky like the spears of gods. Everything here was order, symmetry, wealth. Guards marched in perfect formation. Civilians stepped aside in reverent silence. Even the air seemed to weigh more.

  But Karl didn’t feel welcome.

  ---

  They were taken not to a dungeon, nor a military compound, but to a villa.

  A sprawling estate nestled in the noble quarter, surrounded by lush hedges and silent fountains. White stone arches framed a manicured courtyard. Imperial banners fluttered from the balcony, and at least a dozen guards patrolled the grounds.

  It was beautiful.

  And inescapable.

  “This place is awesome,” one of the players muttered as they stepped inside. “It’s like an S-tier player housing unit.”

  “This couch’s texture rendering is insane,” another said, running his hand along the velvet.

  Karl didn’t respond. He was too busy watching the guards—how they moved, how they watched him.

  Not as a guest.

  As an asset.

  ---

  Tanir was nowhere to be seen. Maric had been separated at the city gates. The players were the only ones left, and they had absolutely no idea what was happening.

  “I think we triggered a major quest line,” the student said.

  “No,” the pervert countered, “this feels like a royal event arc. Like... the prince is revealed, now the empire reacts.”

  “We’re gonna meet the emperor, aren’t we?” the researcher asked, eyes wide.

  Karl said nothing.

  ---

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  By the second day, it was clear that the villa was a gilded cage.

  There were no chains. No interrogations. But the guards were everywhere. They weren’t cruel, but they were watchful. The players weren’t allowed to leave the premises without permission. Karl even tested the doors once—barely touched the handle before a guard appeared from behind a column.

  “Sir,” the man said, almost politely, “your presence is required inside.”

  Karl stepped back without a word.

  ---

  The players, of course, had other ideas.

  By the third morning, one of them had already slipped out through the servant gate.

  He returned four hours later, escorted by two city guards, covered in soot and holding a pastry.

  “What happened?” Karl asked.

  “I found a side quest,” he grinned. “Carried bricks for an old lady. Got five copper and this croissant.”

  “Did you mention who you were?”

  “Of course not. I’m incognito. Like a stealth class.”

  Karl stared at him.

  The next day, two more escaped. One of them joined a local militia training ground just to “test the combat AI.” The other got into a heated argument with a noble’s valet over whether or not potted plants could be used as weapon props.

  By the end of the week, all five players had escaped the villa at least once. Each time, they were returned by increasingly frustrated city personnel, accompanied by increasingly confused official reports.

  The guards posted around the estate were quietly doubled.

  ---

  Karl spent most of his time alone.

  He was given a study. Books lined the shelves—histories, treaties, economic reports. He read them in silence, absorbing everything he could about the Empire’s structure.

  Occasionally, a servant would bring food. Always hot. Always high quality.

  He was never mistreated.

  But he wasn’t free.

  He could feel it in the quiet. The way the guards looked at him—not with fear, but with assessment.

  He was being measured.

  Not as a prisoner.

  As a candidate.

  ---

  On the sixth evening, a raven landed on the balcony outside his study.

  It bore no message. It only watched.

  Moments later, a knock came at the door.

  A man in uniform entered—an imperial aide. Young, clean-shaven, hands gloved even indoors.

  “His Majesty is aware of your arrival,” he said, not quite meeting Karl’s eyes. “He is... in counsel with your brother.”

  Karl’s stomach turned.

  “Alven,” he said.

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  The words tasted bitter.

  “The Emperor requests you remain here until summoned. In the meantime, you are to be treated with every courtesy.”

  Karl nodded slowly.

  “And my... companions?”

  “They are under observation. Their behavior is being studied.”

  Karl raised an eyebrow. “Studied?”

  The aide shifted. “Their presence is... unusual. Their speech patterns, their behavior. His Majesty is interested in determining whether they are dangerous.”

  “They’re not,” Karl said flatly.

  The aide bowed. “That remains to be seen.”

  He left without another word.

  ---

  That night, Karl couldn’t sleep.

  He sat by the window, watching the lights of Aurelia shimmer in the distance. Somewhere beyond those spires, his brother was speaking with the Emperor. Making promises. Making deals.

  What was Karl to him now?

  A rival?

  A liability?

  A tool?

  He closed his eyes.

  ---

  The Star Key pulsed.

  He hadn’t seen it in days. Not since Rewen. Not since the ambush.

  It shimmered now in the air before him, a soft constellation of blue stars forming a quiet ring.

  > [Star Key Interface — Online]

  > [User Recognition: Thalgrenn Royal Line Confirmed]

  > [Authority Level Raised — Tier II Access Granted]

  > [Summon Capacity Increased: +10]

  > [Total Active Players: 15]

  Karl stared at it.

  The stars hovered in silence.

  He exhaled slowly.

  “Fifteen players,” he muttered.

  Outside, the raven flew away into the night.