Chapter 7 - March on the Capital
Word of the miracle on the river spread through Valoria like wildfire before dawn. By morning, as the storm finally broke and golden sunlight pierced the mountain mists, thousands of peasants, merchants, and even deserting members of the royal guard had gathered along the western highway.
They did not come with pitchforks and torches; they came with silence and banners bearing the three silver stars.
Elise stood at the head of the growing procession, mounted on a steady grey stallion provided by Vane—who had miraculously survived the catacomb skirmish with only a minor wound to his shoulder. She wore a simple silver-trimmed cloak over her servant's tunic, but the glowing blade strapped across her back radiated an undeniable majesty.
"The outer gates are locked," Vane reported, riding up beside her as they crested the hill overlooking the capital city. "Marcelline has barricaded herself inside the inner citadel. She has taken Aurelia and the royal guard with her."
"She won't surrender peacefully," the archbishop noted, adjusting his robes. "She believes the throne is her divine right by blood, no matter whose cradle she stole it from."
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"She is wrong," Elise said, her voice calm and steady. She looked down at the city where she had spent years scrubbing stone floors in the shadows. "The throne was never hers to keep. Open the gates."
As the massive iron gates of the capital creaked inward, the citizens did not cheer or riot; they parted like the sea, falling to their knees in quiet reverence as the true queen walked home.
