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Chapter 53 - Court of Thorns

The great council chamber of the Palacio Real had once been a place of ceremonial posturing—marble columns, velvet banners, and the dull drone of nobles discussing lineage and land rights. But today, it was tense with the sharp scent of ink, damp cloaks, and old fury.

Prince Lancelot sat at the head of the chamber on the Regent's elevated chair, hands folded, gaze steady. He wore his usual navy coat, but today the silver trim had been replaced by a stark red braid on one shoulder—a silent symbol of emergency authority granted to him by King Edric months ago.

Opposite him sat twenty-four members of the High Council: dukes, marquises, bishops, and lords who had once ruled their territories like miniature kings. Now, they faced a man barely in his twenties who had taken their fiefdoms and mapped sewer lines through them.

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