Chapter 6 - The Broken Assembly
The news swept through the citadel like wildfire through dry pine.
By sunrise, every servant, guard, knight, and noble lord knew the truth: the dish-washer from the basement had survived the Three Marks. She was no longer an unbonded Omega. She was an elevated Sovereign—a figure of mythical authority legally recognized as equal to the reigning monarch.
In the Citadel Grand Council Chamber, the air was violent.
The chamber was a massive circular room built of black oak and carved granite. Banners representing the eight Great Packs hung from the stone walls, but today, the atmosphere felt less like a government council and more like an arena before a bloody battle.
King Callum sat at the head of the dark oval table, dressed in his black-and-silver royal regalia, his crown resting upon his brow.
To his right sat Aloan.
She wore a gown of deep emerald velvet—a gift from the royal armory weavers—embroidered with silver thread along the high collar. Her chestnut hair was pinned up in an intricate braid, revealing the glowing gold-and-silver mark on her forehead. Aster sat quietly at her right knee; Briar lay behind her chair like a coiled shadow; Sol rested his head on the table beside her elbow, his floating crown casting a warm glow over her parchment papers.
She looked every bit a queen, yet her small hands were still folded nervously in her lap.
To Callum’s left sat Duke Vane Prescott, flanked by his disgraced son, Graham, and Counselor Malcolm.
"This assembly is an insult!" Duke Vane roared, slamming his heavy fist onto the oak table so hard the inkwells rattled. "You expect the noble houses of the North to swear fealty to a peasant girl who spent last week washing grease off our silver pans?!"
"She holds the Three Marks, Duke Vane," Callum said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "The ancient law of Silver Crest is absolute. The Sovereign of the Wilds commands the High Council and holds veto power over all territorial military movements."
"The ancient law was written for Alphas!" Graham spat, his face twisted with hatred as he glared across the table at Aloan. "She is an Omega! She has no natural command aura! If we march into battle behind her, our men will laugh us off the field!"
Sol slowly lifted his bronze head from the table. The obsidian eyes locked onto Graham. The floating golden crown snapped with a sharp, warning spark.
Graham instantly flinched, shrinking back into his chair.
"It seems the Royal Spirits disagree with your assessment, Heir Prescott," Aloan said.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it was clear, steady, and held a strange, resonant ringing sound—a lingering side-effect of the Crown Mark.
The entire council room fell silent. It was the first time Aloan had spoken in an official government assembly.
She looked straight into Duke Vane’s furious black eyes. "You speak of strength as if it is only built by crushing things beneath your boots, Duke Vane. You think because I cleaned your pans, I do not understand this kingdom. But I know this kingdom better than any of you."
Vane sneered. "Is that so, little girl?"
"Yes," Aloan said, leaning forward, resting her hands on the table. "I know that the northern garrison at Iron Ridge hasn't received fresh grain supplies in two months because your house hoards thirty percent of the harvest to keep prices high. I know that the infantrymen—the Omegas and Betas who bleed on your borders—are wearing boots with worn-out soles because House Prescott skims iron from the armory funds."
Vane’s face went pale, his smug expression instantly evaporating. "You dare accuse—"
"I don't accuse. I know," Aloan cut him off coldly. "Because I was the maid who mended their uniforms when they returned from the border. I was the maid who carried the body linen when they died of winter frost because you refused to buy them wool coats."
King Callum looked at Aloan, a flash of deep, unreserved pride lighting up his silver eyes.
"The law stands," Callum announced, stepping into the breach before Vane could recover. "Aloan Hartley is recognized as Sovereign of the Wilds. Effective immediately, all military logistics, border security assignments, and agricultural distribution must be co-signed by her hand."
"And if Iron Ridge refuses to sign?" Vane growled, standing up from his chair, his tall frame looming over the table. "What if I march my twenty thousand legionnaires back to the northern pass and close the iron mines? How will your little Sovereign feed her wolves then, Your Majesty?"
"Then you will be committing treason against the Crown," Callum said, standing up to meet Vane’s gaze, his Alpha aura surging outward like a tidal wave of cold iron. "And I will personally lead the Royal Vanguard to Iron Ridge to strip your house of its title."
The tension in the room snapped like a frozen bowstring.
For ten horrifying seconds, the two most powerful Alphas in the kingdom stared at each other, their combined auras causing the heavy stone floor to vibrate.
Finally, Duke Vane spat on the black oak floor.
"We leave," Vane snarled to Graham and Malcolm. "Let us see how long Silver Crest lasts when the Frost-Blight hits the northern valley without Iron Ridge steel."
Vane turned and stormed out of the assembly chamber, Graham trailing behind him like a beaten dog. Malcolm hesitated for a brief second, looking between the King and Aloan, before hurrying after the northern lord.
When the heavy oak doors slammed shut, the remaining lords in the room exchanged uneasy, terrified glances.
"Sire..." Lord Julian of the East Marches whispered, his voice trembling. "Vane will not go back to Iron Ridge to mine iron. He will gather the northern lords. He is going to start a rebellion."
"Let him try," Callum said coldly.
He turned to Aloan, looking down at her green velvet dress, his expression softening instantly. "You did remarkably well, Sovereign."
Aloan let out a long breath she felt like she’d been holding for two days, sinking back into her chair. Aster placed his cold head on her lap, seeking affection.
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"I didn't want to threaten him," Aloan murmured, her fingers stroking Aster's soft white ears. "But he looked at me as if I were something to be swept under a rug."
"You are no longer something to be swept away, Aloan," Callum said, walking around the table to stand beside her. He extended his hand to her once more. "You are the shield of this kingdom now. And I think it’s time I showed you what you are truly protecting."
