Valmont Series - Inheritance Code

Chapter 6.5 - Unscripted

"Panel of House delegates. A few Sovereigns. The scenario's revealed on entry. Your response is timed, ONYX-tracked, and analyzed for both verbal influence and Prestige resonance."

She added, almost as an afterthought:

"There's no public voting. Not officially. But the room watches. And the Gallery—especially the Gallery—feeds the outcome into real-time Prestige calibration."

Aria's fingers tightened ever so slightly around her glass. She didn't say anything at first, but Allegra caught it—the way confidence stiffened into calculation, the kind of silence that wasn't apathy, but panic dressed in poise.

Then, quietly—

"So I can lose everything... over a single answer?"

Allegra didn't answer. Not directly.

Allegra leaned forward, elbows barely brushing the edge of the hover-table.

"Just be yourself," she said, then added without blinking,

"Unless being yourself gets you flagged."

Aria's lip twitched. "In that case?"

Allegra smiled like it was obvious. "Be better."

Across the table, Aurora didn't speak, but the way her gaze lingered—steadier than usual, just a touch more alert—said enough. Even she could tell—Allegra's silence meant something. And Aria, suddenly, felt the weight of it settle.

Aurora finally spoke then, voice soft but certain.

"So they're either waiting to see if you fail or they're watching to see what kind of threat you might become if you don't."

That quiet sentence hung in the air.

Heavy. Accurate. Avalon.

Aria leaned back, expression unreadable.

"So who exactly summoned me? AVNX itself, or the Solara kings and queens in ceremonial despair?"

Allegra didn't flinch. She stirred her drink with idle elegance.

"Technically? AVNX flagged the signal. But signals don't manifest into meetings without someone pushing. Someone watching."

She let that settle before continuing.

"Most likely, it was Solara President Vesaria. She holds the seat this year. Think high court elegance meets political scalpel—if she called you, it wasn't casual."

Aria's tone turned cooler, eyes narrowing.

"And who exactly's in the audience?"

Allegra lifted her gaze, unamused.

"You'll be watched," Allegra said, tone serene—but precise. "But not by strangers. Solara Subcouncil sessions are held in the Solara Atrium—. Glass-layered. Acoustically sealed. Designed for maximum observation... and minimum interference."

She didn't need to explain further. Everyone knew what that meant: visibility without protection. A spotlight masquerading as civility.

"Usually there'll be Luminary delegates. A few Meridiens. Possibly a Sovereign or two. Just enough rank to ignite whispers if you fail—and just enough prestige to deny they were ever there if you don't."

She lifted her glass, the shimmer in her Starblossom Crème catching the ambient light like a veiled caution.

"Most of the time, it's ceremonial," she continued, effortlessly smooth. "A gesture. Elegantly staged irrelevance. But every so often—"

Her voice dipped, velvet-edged.

"—it isn't."

A pause. Controlled. Measured.

She didn't fill it with reassurance.

"Most of the time, the outcome changes nothing. It's just observation — elegant, clinical, archived.

But on rare occasions, when the response is exceptional, it does more than register.

It elevates.

Solara's currency has always been resonance and visibility.

Influence.

And in Avalon, a single well-timed moment can tilt the entire room in your favor."

Another sip. Another warning disguised as elegance.

"Of course... it can also tilt the other way."

That hung there—weightless, then suddenly not.

And then, with the kind of calm that only Allegra could turn into quiet pressure:

"Let's make sure you answer it like someone they never should've underestimated."

Aria looked at them.

Two girls bred for this. Threaded with legacy. Wearing scrutiny like silk — elegant, effortless, inherited.

And then there was her.

Recognized — but not revered.

A name with weight back home, but in Avalon, it didn't echo loud enough to part the room.

Meridien-tier. Present, but peripheral.

No legacy seal. No inherited path.

Just instinct, sharp observation, and a pulse she couldn't quite steady.

She rose. Controlled. Almost convincing.

She didn't rise to impress them — or lead them. She rose like someone who no longer asked permission to exist.

Her voice came out steadier than she felt.

"Let's make the miscalculation hurt."

They didn't answer.

They didn't need to.

They simply moved with her.

The system had already adjusted.

Even if she hadn't.

She exhaled — quiet, sharp.

"Let's make them regret summoning the wrong girl."

Next Chapter: Recognized. Not Defined.
They summoned her for spectacle.
But Avalon didn't respond to them.
It responded to her.

Watch closely. One answer can fracture the room.
Tap ⭐ to cast your silent vote, or leave your verdict below.
In Avalon, nothing is ever just performance.