William did not request the meeting.
He announced it.
A public communiqué.
A formal notice.
A legal summons.
Addressed directly to Abyss.
To Xior Wenson.
The first of its kind.
The capital held its breath.
Xior accepted within six minutes.
No negotiation.
No delay.
Location: Neutral Administrative Zone
Time: Forty-eight hours
Observers: Limited
William read the confirmation twice.
“…He’s not afraid,” he murmured.
No.
He never was.
The chamber had once been a parliamentary hall.
Its banners stripped.
Its stone reinforced with mana dampeners.
International monitors lining the perimeter.
A place designed to make power behave.
It would fail.
William arrived first.
Simple suit.
No insignia.
No entourage.
Just him.
He stood at the central table and waited.
Xior arrived alone.
Black coat.
Tablet in hand.
He nodded once.
Sat.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Silence settled.
Cameras recorded, but nothing broadcast live.
Some things were too dangerous for spectacle.
“You’ve replaced governance,” William said.
No preamble.
No courtesy.
Xior looked up calmly.
“I’ve stabilized it.”
“With fear.”
“With consequence.”
“Through Tancred.”
“Through systems,” Xior corrected.
William leaned forward.
“You decide who is punished. Who is protected. Who is erased.”
“Yes.”
“That’s tyranny.”
“No,” Xior replied. “That’s accountability without delay.”
A ripple moved through the observers.
“People didn’t vote for you,” William said.
“They didn’t vote for competence either,” Xior answered.
“That’s cynical.”
“That’s empirical.”
William’s voice rose.
“You’re teaching the world that law is optional.”
“No,” Xior said evenly. “I’m teaching them that irresponsibility is fatal.”
He gestured faintly.
“Your institutions failed.”
“You let them fail,” William shot back.
Xior’s eyes sharpened.
“I tried to fix them. You protected their pride.”
The room chilled.
“You’re building a world where only power matters,” William said.
Xior shook his head.
“No. I’m building one where power is predictable.”
“And where does someone like Elira fit?” William demanded.
A pause.
“Wherever she chooses,” Xior said.
“That’s not true,” William snapped. “You’re building a cage and calling it safety.”
Xior leaned in slightly.
“I’m building walls because the outside burns.”
“This isn’t protection,” William said. “It’s control.”
“Yes,” Xior agreed quietly. “Protection requires control.”
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
“Do you sleep?” William asked suddenly.
Xior blinked.
“Yes.”
“Do you dream?”
“No.”
William nodded slowly.
“That explains everything.”
Xior regarded him.
“You still believe people are good,” he said.
“They are,” William replied. “Weak. Afraid. Misguided. But good.”
“They are selfish,” Xior said. “Cruel. Tribal. And predictable.”
“They rise when given a chance.”
“They exploit it.”
William’s hand struck the table.
“We’re supposed to be better than that!”
Xior did not flinch.
“I am,” he said quietly.
The observers shifted in their seats.
“You’re becoming what you hate,” William said.
“No,” Xior replied. “I’m becoming what works.”
William’s voice broke.
“You’re killing hope.”
“I’m replacing it with reliability.”
They stared at each other.
Two men who once believed in the same future.
Now standing on opposite sides of necessity.
“If you continue,” William said, “there will be resistance.”
“Yes.”
“And war.”
“Eventually.”
“And you’re fine with that?”
“I’m prepared,” Xior said.
William let out a brittle laugh.
“You’ve already won, haven’t you?”
Xior hesitated.
Then answered honestly.
“Not yet.”
The chairperson cleared her throat.
“The session—”
“So is this,” Xior said, rising.
He looked at William.
“You’re still needed,” he added. “Just not like this.”
William’s eyes burned.
“I won’t join you.”
“I know.”
“That’s why I respect you.”
Xior turned and walked out.
No guards followed.
No one stopped him.
They couldn’t.
William remained standing at the table.
Alone.
Surrounded by observers who pretended neutrality.
He whispered:
“…We’re going to lose.”
And for the first time,
He didn’t know which side he meant.
