Chapter 10 - Under a Unified Sky
The bells of the cathedral of Astervale rang out across the capital, their rich, bronze notes carrying far across the sunlit valleys and rolling hills.
It was the first anniversary of the new reign—a day the kingdom now celebrated not as a festival of royal vanity, but as The Feast of the Shield, a day dedicated to honoring those who protected the realm, from the common guards on the wall to the generals who led them.
The Great Hall was filled with laughter, music, and the rich, comforting aromas of roasted meats, spiced cider, and baked bread. There were no white roses forced out of season by deceitful sorcery; instead, the tables were decorated with hardy mountain wildflowers, pine boughs, and simple candles that cast a warm, honest glow over the stone walls.
At the center of the high dais sat Queen Helena, her silver crown catching the light of the torches. To her left sat General Isolde, wearing her dark blue velvet tunic and her polished silver breastplate, her broadsword resting safely within reach against the stone wall.
There was no king sitting upon a duplicate throne. Helena had decreed that the throne room would never again house a seat built on hollow promises or stolen sacrifices.
Across the hall, nobles, commoners, northern wardens, and village blacksmiths sat side by side, sharing food and drinking toasts to the future of Astervale. The rigid barriers of class and courtly pretense had been dismantled, replaced by a deep, hard-won camaraderie born from surviving the darkest winter the realm had ever known.
As the musicians struck up a lively, traditional folk melody—a tune older than the kingdom itself—Captain Vance walked up to the dais, holding a wooden goblet of spiced amber wine.
"To the general," Vance said, raising his cup toward Isolde with a respectful nod. "And to a northern border that finally stands on its own feet."
Isolde raised her cup in return, her dark eyes bright and clear. "To the wardens, Captain. May our watch remain steady."
She took a sip of the warm wine, feeling the rich, clean vitality of the room. Across the hall, through the wide, unbroken archways of the grand entrance, the night sky was visible—not torn by blue fire or shadowed by the Hollow Army, but dusted with countless brilliant stars shining down in peaceful, unhindered splendor.
Later that evening, as the feast wound down and the laughter softened into quiet conversations, Isolde slipped away from the crowded hall and stepped out into the palace courtyard.
May you like
The night air was cold, carrying the crisp promise of the coming winter. But as she looked up toward the northern peaks, she felt no dread, no phantom pain in her joints, no weight of a hidden sacrifice.
The walls were strong. The kingdom was safe. And for the first time in thirty years, the woman who had protected the world was entirely free to simply look up at the stars and breathe.
