Chapter 11 - Whispers Across the Border

The morning air in Richmond was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and impending autumn from the northern hills. In the royal library, maps of the Unified Provinces were spread wide across the mahogany table. King Alaric stood at the head, leaning heavily on his knuckles, while Rowan and Princess Evelyne studied the ink-marked borders.
"Reports from the eastern trade route are troubling," Alaric said, his brow furrowed with deep concern. "Since High Inquisitor Malakor was disgraced and driven from the capital, the local magistrates in the border towns have grown restless. They claim that without the Council's strict suppression laws, the wild magic seeping from the borderlands will destabilize the grain harvests."
Evelyne straightened up, her posture confident and strong, a far cry from the fragile state she had endured for twelve years. "They are manufacturing panic, Father. The magistrates are simply afraid of losing the absolute authority Malakor granted them."
"She is right," Rowan added, his voice calm as he traced his finger along a mountain pass marked on the map. "The wild magic isn't a threat. It only feels dangerous to them because they've spent generations trying to cage it instead of learning to live alongside it."
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Alaric looked at the young man, a proud, fatherly smile momentarily replacing his worried expression. "And how do you propose we handle this, Rowan? The Council in the capital of the provinces is demanding a formal delegation to inspect the border stability. If we refuse, they will label us rebels."
"Then we don't refuse," Evelyne said, her eyes flashing with royal determination. "We go ourselves. You, Father, Rowan, and I. We show the border provinces that the crown is united, and that the wild is nothing to fear."