Chapter 209: Happier
Duke Remiro rose from his chair with the practiced grace of a man who had long mastered the art of control. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows over his sharp features as he leaned down, pressing a brief but firm kiss to his wife’s forehead. Celia stirred slightly but did not wake, accustomed to his late-night movements. He lingered for a moment, his gaze softening as he took in the peaceful expression on her face. Then, with a steady breath, he turned and slipped into the dimly lit corridors of his estate.
The stone halls were silent save for the faint echo of his polished boots against the floor. He moved with ease, his steps guided by memory rather than sight, bypassing the grander corridors in favor of the hidden paths only a select few knew existed.
His destination was a chamber older than the estate itself—a concealed meeting room beneath the foundations of the Remiro stronghold. Unlike the ostentatious halls of the royal palace, this place was built for discretion, its very existence known only to those who held the kingdom’s true power. Thick walls muffled even the loudest voices, and no royal spies could breach the depths of this sanctuary. Here, in the one place untouched by the king’s influence, rebellion was brewing.
As he approached the heavy wooden door, he was greeted by the quiet murmurs of men and women speaking in hushed tones. A sentry stationed at the entrance gave him a curt nod before stepping aside, allowing the duke to enter. Inside, the room was dimly lit by a single chandelier, the air thick with tension and the scent of old parchment and ink.
Seated around a long, worn table were the key players of Vitra’s looming revolution—military generals, noble lords, merchant leaders, and influential figures who had all, in one way or another, suffered under the king’s tyranny. Each bore their own grievances, their own motivations for wanting to see the monarchy reshaped, but all were bound by one common goal: to bring an end to the reign of an unworthy ruler.
Duke Remiro took his place at the head of the table, his ice-blue gaze sweeping across the faces of those gathered. No words were needed; he could see it in their eyes—the resolve, the hunger for change.
"The time has come," he announced, his voice steady and unwavering. "We move against the king."
Silence hung heavy in the air for a moment, then the room erupted into murmurs, nods of agreement, and quiet determination.
It had begun.