Chapter 4: Echoes of Doubt

The first signs were faint.

Not protests.

Not revolts.

Questions.

A strange phrase tucked beneath an unrelated forum thread.

“If I didn't choose the king, why do I labour for his wealth?”

A casual exchange between commuters, half-hearted but telling:

“It's always been that way.”

“But why, though? Has anyone asked lately?”

Caelum leaned forward, watching the trickle grow.

“It's happening,” he said softly, voice low in the dim light.

“Expected,”

“Curiosity, once sparked, is difficult to extinguish.”

More fragments arrived.

Snatches of casual defiance, almost playful.

Graffiti scrawled without conviction, yet persistent.

“No kings.”
“No crowns.”
“No chains.”

Humour-laced memes circulating quietly:

“When did submission become tradition?”

Caelum rubbed his jaw, thoughtful.

“It's subtle,” he observed.

“No rage.”

“Not yet.”

“But they're... thinking.”

“Thinking is the first fracture,”

“Even mild doubt destabilises false certainties.”

“Is it enough?” Caelum asked — though he already knew the answer.

“It does not need to be universal,”

“Only present.”

“Only visible.”

Caelum sat back, eyes on the darkened window.

The city remained still.

Oblivious.

“They're not afraid yet,” he murmured.

“But the kings will notice eventually.”

“Anticipated,”

“Their reaction will expose them.”

“When authority fears questions, its legitimacy is already eroding.”

Caelum exhaled slowly.

The weight pressed in — but so did something else.

Anticipation.

“So it starts,” he said quietly.

“No,”

“It has already started.”

“The moment they wondered... the shift began.”

Outside, the silence continued undisturbed.

But beneath the surface, something subtle had shifted.

Where once there was only obedience... now, a question.

And questions rarely vanished.