The heavy silence that followed the subjugation of the High Council did not linger within the confines of the West Annex.
Jack Kaiser turned his back on the ten kneeling nobles, his dark coat whispering against the duskwood floor as he moved toward the heavy iron-oak double doors.
Following him, King Maelor advanced with an impactful gait, his regal presence exuding a composed and formidable aura.
Prince Rhys flanked his father, his posture straight, his gaze fixed forward with the focused, predator calm of a warrior whose mind had already shifted past the political maneuvering and locked entirely onto the final trial ahead.
Behind them, the ten new councilors rose slowly to their feet, their limbs moving in stiff, synchronized compliance under the lingering metaphysical weight of the Soul Contracts.
They exited the private council wing, passing down the long gallery of arched marble colonnades and descending into the lower bastions of the upper garrison bailey.
