Chapter 9 - The Council of the Realm
The great hall of Dartmouth Citadel had been transformed. The blood-stained stones had been scrubbed clean, the broken oak doors replaced with magnificent panels carved from ancient weirwood, inlaid with threads of pure gold that caught the sunlight streaming through the high stained-glass windows.
Representatives from every major territory—the Northern Reach, the Western Peaks, the Eastern Valleys, and even the hesitant Southern Syndicate—sat in respectful silence around the grand circular table.
At the head of the table sat Queen Rowena.
To her right stood Lord Tristan, his presence a steadfast pillar of strength and loyalty.
"The pacification of the borderlands is complete," Tristan announced, laying a parchment report before the council. "The remnants of the Blackwood forces have surrendered, and the illicit trade of Blood-Lotus has been permanently eradicated. The realm is at peace."
A murmur of approval rippled through the gathered lords. The bitterness and skepticism that had once defined the northern courts had been replaced by a deep, unwavering reverence. They had seen the power of the Solus bloodline, but more importantly, they had witnessed the absolute justice of its queen.
King Godfrey, seated among the minor delegates as a private citizen under palace protection, kept his eyes lowered, unable to meet Rowena’s gaze.
"Peace is not merely the absence of war," Rowena spoke, her voice carrying clearly across the grand hall, demanding the absolute attention of every lord and alpha present. "For centuries, our packs have been divided by pride, cruelty, and the illusion that strength gives us the right to trample the vulnerable. That era ends today."
She stood up from her seat, the golden light within her pulsing gently, filling the hall with a warm, welcoming radiance.
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"Under the Solus banner, power will no longer be measured by how many you can crush beneath your paws," Rowena declared, looking around the room. "It will be measured by how many you lift up. Strength without justice is merely tyranny. And this realm will never bow to tyrants again."
A profound silence held the room for a heartbeat—followed slowly, then thunderously, by every noble in the hall standing up and pounding their fists against their chests in the traditional salute of absolute allegiance.
