The trumpets had long faded, yet the echo of the king's proclamation still lingered like smoke upon the vaulted ceilings of the royal hall. Princess Elara, now newly named Crown Princess, sat in her place of honor beneath the banners of Aldwyn, her purple eyes glowing with pride. Around her the nobles bowed, their jeweled cloaks sweeping the polished marble floor, but once the ceremony's formalities dimmed, whispers began to stir like restless crows at dusk.
"Is this what our kingdom has become?" murmured one lord, his beard flecked with silver. "To place the weight of the crown upon the shoulders of a woman? A daughter of Aldwyn, yes, but still only a woman."
Another leaned close, his voice sharp as the hiss of steel. "Aye, a woman may stitch tapestries and birth heirs, but she is not fit to sit upon the throne. Kind she may be, but kindness is no shield against war."
