66Please respect copyright.PENANAKrIClOuf7iGREAT CITY- COURTROOM- FELIX OFFICE-
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Traeven’s black boots strike the navy‑blue and white marble with a crisp, echoing rhythm as he crosses the Great Court Hall. Banners of white sun bursts on midnight flags that hang from towering pillars, swaying gently.
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He slips through the archway into Felix’s private chamber—a sanctum of immaculate white stone trimmed with celestial gold. Navy rugs with purple and gold threading soften the floor like constellations woven underfoot.
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Felix sits behind his desk hunched over, quill blazing across parchment, the feather trembles with speed. He doesn’t look up.
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Traeven advances. Each step echoes, announcing his presence.
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Traeven:
“Thank you for granting this appointment. I bring dire information—something that may protect you and your son. As you know, I’ve served him for many years now.”
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Felix finally lifts his eyes, unimpressed. Traeven sits down in front of him.
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Felix:
“No theatrics Traeven. What’s your aim? I know my son is off the rails currently. I know of this Metro—who has spared my life and somehow converted my son. I’ve given Metro access to my state. Everyone's blasting me for it. Theron is in hiding, last I heard. Have you come to interrogate me like the others?”
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Traeven:
“Not at all. I only seek information. If I can prevent unnecessary war or bloodshed… I must try.”
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Felix stares, weighing him.
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Traeven:
“Serving Theron hasn't been easy.”
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Felix scoffs, a dry exhale.
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Traeven:
“We’ve suffered loss because of his stubbornness—his refusal to see reason. I’ve kept our state afloat by threads. With Metro sparking a war, we may finally have time to gather ourselves before Hasan brings havoc. He doesn’t care about our conflict with Cat. Rumor says The Council supplies that same bandit leader—his generals, his assassins—giving them advantage over our forces.”
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Felix nods, impressed despite himself.
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Traeven:
“I’ve distanced myself from Theron so that, he might clear his head.’
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(a beat)
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‘I’ve spoken my peace. He's denied it. That is why I’ve come to you.”
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Felix studies him long and slow.
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Felix:
“Theron is your jurisdiction. You were in the Great North City, weren’t you?”
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Traeven swallows.
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Traeven:
“Yes. For a short time.”
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Felix leans forward, smiling faintly.
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Felix:
“Short is wise.”
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Traeven crosses one leg over the other, posture composed, eyes unreadable.
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Traeven:
“What do you suggest?”
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Felix folds his hands and leans back in his chair.
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Felix:
“You truly want my opinion?”
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Traeven:
“I wouldn’t have traveled this far if I didn’t trust your judgment.”
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Felix pulls a fresh parchment and signs it with a flourish, not looking up.
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Felix:
“Go to the Council directly. I can schedule you—in two weeks. They’ve been searching for minds like yours.”
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Traeven’s fingers tighten on the chair. His face remains masked.
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Traeven:
“What would I say?”
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Felix sets the parchment down, finally meeting his eyes.
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Felix:
“I’m not stupid, Traeven. You are the hand behind the king. You’ve run the entire operation for years, and no one given you credit. Do you know why?”
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Traeven blinks, chin and eyes slightly down, as if searching inwardly.
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(silence)
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Felix:
“Because you never sought credit. That is why someone, as yourself, from our culture has climbed the ranks so fast.”
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(beat)
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Felix slides the signed parchment toward him.
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Felix:
“Here. A formal summons to the High Council. Don’t ruin this. If you get nervous, pretend you’re speaking with me. Tell them your concerns. Be honest—no less than you’ve been with me and my son. We honor your efforts to keep the animals over the wall.”
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He presses his seal to the parchment.
A hiss of hot wax fills the chamber.
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Scene ends.
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