CHAPTER 103
The palace gates opened wide that morning, and a wave of people pressed against the iron bars, desperate to glimpse the King who had promised them hope. Flowers were scattered on the stone steps, and baskets of grain were laid down as offerings.
Trumpets blared. A herald raised his staff and shouted, "Rejoice! Our King has spoken, and an heir is promised! The kingdom will rejoice for generations to come!"
The crowd erupted. Men raised their sons onto their shoulders, women clasped their daughters to their chests, and old men wiped tears from their eyes. For them, it was more than just a child, it was safety, a future, something to bind the kingdom after years of fracture.
In taverns, wine was poured freely. Songs were sung late into the night, with verses hastily crafted about the unborn heir. Even the poorest peasants, their bellies half-empty, found reason to smile.
But within the palace walls, the air was different.
