Seven Days Later - Arclight Estate Council Chamber
"The answer is no."
Marcus sat at the head of the table. The Duke's seat. His father's seat. He'd moved in the day after the funeral. Changed the locks. Hung his own portrait.
Twenty days until his coronation. Twenty days of provisional authority. And he was making the most of it.
"My lord," Baron Torren said carefully. "The grain shipments to the southern villages are critical. Winter is coming. If we don't—"
"I said no." Marcus leaned back. "Those villages didn't support my father adequately during the harvest tax negotiations. They can manage on their own reserves."
"But the reserves are depleted. The drought—"
"Not my problem. Next issue."
Draven sat in the corner. Observing. Taking mental notes. He'd been attending these council meetings for a week now—Marcus couldn't legally bar him, since he was still family. Still technically an heir, albeit secondary.
And every meeting, Marcus made another mistake.
