The urgency in the Grand Council Hall was a physical thing, thick and suffocating, like a heavy monsoon fog. Every high-ranking official was present, arranged in their ceremonial robes, their faces a mix of manufactured grief for General Wei and genuine anxiety over the power vacuum.
Qingxue took her seat, the weight of the crown feeling heavier than usual. She caught Prime Minister Xiao's eye. He still looked haunted from what happened.
On the other hand, when she glanced at Liu Hao, he immediately glanced away, his face pale and cold. His earlier reaction to the name Fei was still ringing in her mind, a clear alarm bell of deception.
"Your Majesty," Minister Zheng, the Head of the Council, began with a deep, measured voice. "We extend our sorrow once more. But General Wei's garrison is the bedrock of the capital's defense. We must appoint a new General immediately, or the army's stability will be weak."
