The following morning, when the pale light of yellow kissed the palace grounds, still drenched dew and blood, the palace's council hall was already open and under heavy guard. No servants were permitted inside.
General Turik, watched as the highest nobles and ministers filed in, one by one. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the chamber, a rhythm of unease.
The great hall of the palace had never felt so heavy. The throne of King Roman stood draped in black silk, the royal banners replaced with mourning veils. The air smelled of incense, blood, and fear.
Around the long obsidian table, ministers, nobles, and generals gathered—faces pale, voices sharp and trembling.
"The royal family is gone," cried the Minister of Finance, slamming his trembling hand upon the table. "The bloodline of Roman Soderna is ended! What are we to tell the people? The kingdom will collapse before the week is out!"
