Chapter 92 Chapter 92: The Noble Games
Kalev’s POV
The Council floor was very formal. We only used it for official meetings, not meetings that we called on the fly. As such, most meetings were not held here.
But this was one.
Because this was a very important, official meeting. The raised seating filled quickly. Every council member from every House was in attendance. Rumors traveled fast in the Capital. Especially when they involved me.
The second Games announcement had ripped through the city overnight. Launching another Slave Games barely weeks after the last one had piqued everyone’s interest. So had the fact that I’d planted seeds that this one was different. But I’d refused to explain what different was.
I was saving that for this meeting.
My mother sat three levels above me in House seating. She was immaculate as always. Her silver hair was pinned sharply back. Her expression suggested boredom to anyone who didn’t know her. But I knew her. She was watching me carefully. So was Viktor. He had a smug smile on his face.
Once everyone was seated, the chamber doors sealed behind me with a low metallic groan. The meeting began right away.
A council member from House Ardin started.
“This second event is reckless,” he snapped. He drummed his fingers sharply against the stone armrest. “What were you thinking, Kalev?”
Several council members agreed. Across the room, Viktor sat with one ankle crossed over his knee, his fingers folded loosely.
He smiled at me when our eyes met.
The council members discussed logistics first. They had sponsorship concerns. As well as resource allocation. They were also concerned about Sector unrest after Senna’s broadcast in Sector 6.
I assured them that was all fine. I had taken it all into consideration and weighed the pros and cons of having another game so quickly.
“Given Senna’s speech in Sector 6,” I told the council. “I believe it’s prudent to run another games now. To show the sectors that the we are still in control.”
My words were manipulative. But they worked. The council swung in my favor.
Finally, someone said what everyone actually wanted to say.
“What,” Lady Corvus said sharply, “does ‘different’ mean?”
The room fell quiet. Every gaze shifted toward me.
I stood up. This was the moment I’d been waiting for. A rippled of excitement ran through me. I was about to drop a bomb on the council and I couldn’t wait to see their faces when it landed.
The center platform illuminated beneath my feet, activating formal address protocols.
For a moment, I said nothing.
Then I lifted my head and said, very clearly:
“I have made an amendment to the game.” My voice was even.
Lord Ardin frowned. “What amendment?” he asked.
“I have changed the island,” I said with a sly smile. “These next games will be different. They will include participants of Noble blood. I am calling them the Noble Games.”
Ka-boom. The bomb landed hard.
Someone laughed once. Short and disbelieving. A few people frowned.
“What exactly,” someone said slowly, “does that mean?”
I looked around the chamber, at the people who had spent decades watching other people suffer while they sipped their wine and placed bets on people’s lives.
“At present,” I said, “the Games require sacrifice from only one side of society.”
Murmurs began immediately. I ignored them.
“The Sectors bleed,” I continued. “The Capital watches. We call this honor. We call this entertainment. We call this necessity.” My voice remained calm and controlled.
“I call this unfair.”
Someone swore quietly. I let the silence build. Then I delivered it cleanly.
“Every noble House will send one blood heir into the next Games.”
The chamber erupted into chaos.
“What?”
“Absolutely not…”
“Are you insane?”
“You cannot compel…”
I stood still and let them burn themselves out. Then I continued.
“Not substitutes,” I said. “No political nephews or distant cousins that have been bought into lineage. They must be blood heirs. They must have noble blood. No house is exempt. There must be one blood heir from every House.”
“This is political suicide,” Lord Ardin hissed. “We won’t abide by this.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I have changed the island,” I told them. “I’ve rewritten the code. It can not be overridden. The games will not activate if there is no noble blood on it. I’ve written the code to sense and calculate the noble blood heirs from each house.” I spread out my games dramatically. “No noble blood? No games.”
The room fell silent.
The idea had come to me while I was reworking the island for flora wolves. If I could that, then why I couldn’t I create an island that would only activate with noble blood. This was my revenge. I was forcing nobles to play in the games alongside the sectors.
I knew the council would be furious. I didn’t care. They deserved this. Once they got there and experienced it themselves, they would call to end the games. Their families would experience the sheer devastation that sector families had experienced for decades. They would experience the same fear and loss.
This was my way of ending the games.
House Vale slammed a hand against the railing. “You can’t do this, Kalev,” he said.
“I already have,” I told him. “I’ve announced the next games. Would you like to cancel them instead? Go ahead. I’ll deliver a press announcement explaining that the games were cancelled by the council after I told them they nobles must participate. How do you think the sectors will react to that?” I glared at the council. “I don’t think they’ll react very well.”
The council glared back at me.
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” I said. “I have an official statement to make to the public regarding the changes to the games. I’ll let you all consider who you’d like to nominate on behalf of your house. And naturally,” I said with a coy smile, “I nominate myself for my house.”
I turned and walked out of the room without another word. I didn’t have to say anything else. I’d done what I came to do.
I’d dropped the bomb. Nobility would play in the next games.
And in doing so, these would be the last games.
Or at least I hoped they would be.