Lysander's chambers remained as he'd left them—ostentatious luxury that now felt foreign after weeks at the Academy. He immediately detected the magical monitoring devices hidden throughout the room, crude compared to Elara's sophisticated technology but effective enough for basic surveillance.
"Will you require anything else, Your Highness?" asked the guard stationed outside his door.
"No, thank you. I'd like to rest after the journey." Lysander closed the door and waited until the guard's footsteps retreated before retrieving Elara's dampening device from his bag. He activated it with a subtle pulse of magic, creating a small zone of privacy near his writing desk.
Within this protected space, he removed his hidden journal and added notes about his confrontation with his siblings. Their hasty summons without the Emperor's explicit authorization revealed their growing concern—and their willingness to bend royal protocol. Most importantly, they still underestimated the extent of his recovered abilities.
A soft knock interrupted his writing. Lysander quickly concealed his journal and deactivated the dampening device before opening the door.
"Lyra," he greeted the servant girl he'd befriended before leaving for the Academy. "What a pleasant surprise."
She bowed low, her eyes carefully downcast. "Welcome back, Your Highness. I've brought fresh linens for your bed."
As she entered with her basket, she whispered, "The Broken Crown sends greetings."
Lysander maintained a neutral expression despite his surprise. "Thank you, Lyra. Please ensure the sheets are properly tucked at the corners. I've grown particular about such things at the Academy."
Once the door closed, she spoke hurriedly while making the bed. "Sera has contacts among the palace staff. We received word of your return an hour ago."
"How extensive is our network here?"
"Small but growing. Six servants, two guards, and a court physician." She glanced nervously at the door. "I don't have much time. Princess Seraphina has ordered increased surveillance on your movements."
"And the Emperor?"
"Confined to his private wing for three days now. Official word claims he's meditating on state matters, but the physician says his condition worsens." Lyra smoothed the bedcovers with practiced efficiency. "Crown Prince Darius has been hosting military leaders while the Princess entertains House Lunaris representatives."
Positioning their allies for the succession crisis—earlier than in Lysander's previous timeline.
"I need to see my father," he said decisively.
"Impossible. The royal wing is heavily guarded, with access restricted to personal physicians and the Crown Prince." Lyra finished her task and picked up her basket. "But there might be another way. The old servant passages were sealed decades ago, but not all entrances were properly secured."
"Can you map them for me?"
She shook her head. "Too dangerous to carry such information. But the palace librarian is sympathetic to our cause. The original architectural plans are in the restricted archives."
Another ally he hadn't anticipated. The pieces were moving differently this time, creating new opportunities.
"Get word to our network," Lysander instructed quietly. "I need accurate information about my father's condition and my siblings' activities."
Lyra bowed formally as she prepared to leave. "The linens are arranged to your satisfaction, Your Highness?"
"Perfectly, thank you."
After she departed, Lysander expanded his magical senses throughout his chambers, careful to avoid detection by the monitoring devices. The partial unblocking had enhanced his Anima abilities far beyond what he'd possessed at this point in his previous life. He could now sense living energy through walls, detecting the guards posted at regular intervals along the corridor.
More importantly, he could feel the subtle currents of the Covenant flowing beneath the palace—ancient magic pulsing like a heartbeat through the very foundations of the imperial seat. His brief connection during the third unblocking had established a permanent awareness of this energy.
Lysander closed his eyes, focusing on these currents. There—a stronger concentration beneath the Emperor's wing, suggesting the Covenant had anchoring points connected directly to the imperial bloodline. This aligned with Thorne's theories about the Aurelian family's special relationship with the magical pact.
A sharp knock broke his concentration.
"Enter," he called, straightening his posture to project calm authority.
Lady Celestia Blackstone stepped into the room, her midnight-black hair arranged in an elaborate court style. As daughter of the imperial spymaster, her presence was significant.
"Prince Lysander, I hope you've had time to settle in." Her amber eyes missed nothing as she surveyed his chambers.
"Lady Blackstone, to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"The Crown Prince requests your presence at dinner tonight. A small gathering of family and close advisors." Her tone remained neutral, but Lysander detected the subtle warning. "I've been asked to help you readjust to court protocols after your time away."
In other words, she would be watching him until dinner.
"How thoughtful of my brother," Lysander replied with a polite smile. "I admit Academy life has simpler customs."
"So I've heard." Celestia took a seat without waiting for invitation—a calculated move to establish her authority. "The reports of your activities there have been most interesting."
"Have they? I can't imagine my studies would fascinate court society."
"Your combat demonstration against Cassius Drakos was particularly noteworthy." Her amber eyes fixed on him with predatory focus. "As was your apparent healing ability."
So House Blackstone had its own informants at the Academy—unsurprising but useful to confirm.
"Academy training is remarkably effective," Lysander said mildly. "Though I suspect court reports exaggerate my modest progress."
"Modesty, Your Highness? That's new." Celestia leaned forward slightly. "You've changed since leaving court. The question that concerns many is how and why."
"Perhaps facing disappointment and failure provided valuable perspective." Lysander met her gaze steadily. "The failed prince had much to reconsider during his exile."
"And now the failed prince returns with unexpected abilities and allies." She rose gracefully. "My father always taught me that sudden changes in established patterns deserve the closest scrutiny."
"Wise advice from the imperial spymaster," Lysander acknowledged. "I look forward to seeing Lord Blackstone at dinner."
"Unfortunately, my father sends his regrets. Urgent matters in the eastern provinces require his attention." Something flickered in her eyes—concern, perhaps. "Awakening incidents have increased dramatically in recent weeks."
This was new information. In his previous timeline, Lord Blackstone had remained at court during this period, managing the investigation into the Awakening phenomenon personally.
"The eastern provinces?" Lysander asked carefully. "That's Drakos territory, is it not?"
"Indeed. Which makes these incidents particularly concerning to Crown Prince Darius." Celestia moved toward the door. "A formal attendant will escort you to dinner at the seventh bell. Until then, you're welcome to rest or visit the library—though certain sections remain restricted, of course."
After she departed, Lysander considered this development. Lord Blackstone's absence created an opportunity but also raised questions. Why would the spymaster leave court during such a critical time? And why would Darius allow investigations in Drakos territory to proceed without his direct oversight?
The game was growing more complex, with players moving in unexpected patterns. But complexity created opportunities for those who could navigate it skillfully.
Lysander activated Elara's dampening device once more and returned to his journal. Dinner would bring another confrontation with his siblings—a public performance where appearances would matter more than reality.
Until then, he needed to gather more information, particularly about his father's condition and the Covenant anchors beneath the palace. The library beckoned, with its architectural plans and a sympathetic librarian.
The failed prince would make his first strategic move in the heart of imperial power.