Scene: Council Chamber — Same Moment
Amara's POV
I turned to him.
My king.
He sat beside me now—not as a passive observer, but as the throne in human form. Chris Blackwood, 01 of the Empire, whose silence could rewrite constitutions and whose nod could end bloodlines.
I faced him with poise, voice clear, deliberate.
> "My king," I said, loud enough for every trembling spine in the chamber to hear.
"Now that this room understands order again... is there any minister that should be eliminated?"
The air went cold.
No one moved.
No one blinked.
Chris didn't look at me right away. He leaned back slowly, fingers tapping against the polished armrest of his seat. His eyes swept the room like a scalpel. Measuring. Calculating. Daring.
Then he spoke.
Low. Calm. Deadly.
> "There are three names I've written down," he said. "And two of them are sitting here right now."
Murmurs.
Not loud—more like involuntary gasps trying to strangle themselves.
Chris's gaze shifted. It landed on Minister Harrow—a man known for his oil-slicked words and slippery policies. Then to Minister Taleen, whose smile had always been too practiced, her alliances too uncertain.
Chris raised a single hand.
> "Minister Taleen…"
She visibly straightened, as if bracing for the axe.
> "You're being placed under full surveillance. You will remain in office, but every move you make, every paper you touch, will be reviewed by the Empress's personal team."
Taleen nodded quickly, hiding the tremble in her lip. "Understood, Your Majesty."
Then—
> "Minister Harrow."
The man didn't even have time to rise.
Chris looked at the guard standing near the wall.
> "Remove him. Permanently. No record, no funeral, no inheritance."
> "By royal order?" the guard asked.
Chris turned his head just slightly.
> "By divine right."
Two B.A.M. soldiers immediately stepped forward. Harrow didn't argue. He stood, bowed, and walked like a man who already saw the end.
He was gone in under fifteen seconds.
Chris looked at me again. His eyes said everything.
> Your reign is not questioned. It is feared. And now, it is cleansed.
I stood tall.
> "Let it be known," I declared, "that the throne sees all. Forgiveness may come from gods. But justice comes from Blackwood."
The council didn't just obey after that.
They bowed.
One by one.
And not out of respect.
Out of survival.
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