The People's Choice
The silence lingered, heavy and suffocating, as if the courtyard itself was holding its breath.
The question Leon had posed hung over the gathered citizens of Vellore like a sword suspended by a single thread.
"Can you accept a sincere ruler?"
For a heartbeat, no one moved. No one spoke. Then, a timid murmur began at the back of the crowd, soft and wavering like a breeze over dry leaves.
A man—older, hunched slightly from years of labor—stepped forward. His voice trembled as he spoke, carrying both doubt and defiance.
"Sire…" he began, hesitant. "We… we don't know you. How can we trust that your words are not another trick?"
A ripple of agreement moved through the crowd. Mothers pressed children closer to their chests; merchants leaned on stalls, their eyes wary; soldiers shifted uneasily, some gripping weapons as though uncertain whether to defend their city or flee.
