Chapter 20: Angered Nobles
The doors to the Council of State slammed shut behind Monforte with a cold finality, sealing him inside the lion’s den.
The chamber, circular and windowless, was built to echo authority—tall vaulted ceilings, thick tapestries bearing the sigils of ancient houses, and heavy iron chandeliers that dangled like the swords of Damocles. Yet today, all the grandeur did nothing to contain the fury that had gathered inside.
Voices erupted before he even reached the central floor.
"You expect us to sit still while a boy declares war on our bloodlines?" thundered Count Figueres, his scarlet robes rustling as he rose from his high-backed chair. "Monforte, this audit is a provocation!"
Duke Reynard of Castile slammed a gloved fist on the table. "The Regent insults every family in this room—my family. My sons came to me asking if we would lose our estate because the charter was damaged in a fire. A fire, mind you, in 1684!"
"And what of the guilds?" barked Don Luis Ronda of Valencia. "Merchants are being accused of extortion, of price fixing—do you realize the instability this causes? They talk of a tariff revolt!"
Monforte reached the center of the circle, still and quiet. He did not speak. Not yet.
Countess Elvira of Segovia leaned forward, eyes sharp as blades. "You’ve stood beside this boy-tyrant as he declared war on tradition. First, he mocked our rites. Then, he seized Church property under ’infrastructure reform.’ Now, he audits us as if we are smugglers and criminals."
"Enough!" Monforte finally spoke. His voice did not rise—but it cut. "This is the Council of State, not a tavern in Zaragoza. Sit. Down."