Chapter 71: Weight Of Choices
The storm left behind by General Varn Delacroix had not yet settled when the Assembly doors opened once more.
This time, the banners that entered were not war-torn and bloodstained. They were clean. Embroidered. Quietly radiant with generational power.
The first was House Travan, its sigil a black fox under a waxing moon. The Travan Lord walked with a cane—not from weakness, but from an old battle injury earned defending the palace during the Scouring Rebellion.
A silver chain ran across his chest, connecting scrolls of law and prophecy. He was the High Magistrate of the Inner Courts.
He did not speak immediately, nor loudly.
But when he did, it was with chilling precision.
"I speak with no intent for conquest," Lord Travan said, his voice echoing cleanly off the crystalline columns. "I speak for continuity. For the spine of this Empire, the laws that bind it. I support Maximus Aregard not because he promises glory—but because he has already ensured stability."
He turned toward the gathered nobles seated along the crescent dais, where the Ritual Throne loomed above, still empty.
"While his elder brother burns the world to make men kneel, and his sister plays dice with worthless princes, Maximus secures the coin flow, controls the spy webs, and governs the trade that feeds every province. Without that? There is no Empire to speak of."
Soft murmurs began.
But more followed.
House Bellmire came next—their matriarch draped in lavender and sun-gold robes, accompanied by twin daughters in matching brand-threaded veils. They controlled the western aqueducts, wine routes, and the city’s health district.