I Got Married to a Yandere Queen
Chapter 75 - 74 - Council of Vultures

Chapter 75: Chapter 74 - Council of Vultures

Their footsteps echoed softly along the white marble corridor that stretched toward the main council chamber. On one side, tall windows reflected the gray light of Belgrave’s overcast sky, while the other wall was lined with the crests of old glories—symbols that now felt hollow, like shadows from a faded age of triumph.

Anna Hartwell walked without haste, her old purple cloak swaying lightly with each step. Beside her, Louis Havel, Supreme Commander of the Royal Army, moved with heavy, burdened strides. Not a single word passed between them, yet the silence they carried was enough to make every servant and guard they passed bow deeply.

They entered the vast rectangular hall—The Royal Council Chamber. Inside, a long table of dark wood stretched nearly to the far end of the room, surrounded by high-backed chairs, each bearing the crest of a noble family. But at the end of the room, one chair stood larger than the rest, carved with the head of a lion and two crossed swords.

It was the Queen’s throne.

As soon as Anna and Havel stepped inside, the nobles already seated turned toward them. Dozens of eyes followed their every movement, wearing expressions of unease, anger, curiosity, and in some cases, veiled, cunning smiles. Whispered voices immediately rose like a soft stream—quiet, yet piercing.

"Why are they only arriving now?"

"They’ve kept us waiting."

"What does it mean? Is she really... dead?"

"..."

Anna remained calm. Her gaze swept across the room like an invisible blade. She knew what they were thinking. These people were no patriots. They were merchants of power. And when the scent of collapse lingered in the air, they didn’t ask ’What can we save?’—they asked What can we take?’

Louis Havel moved ahead and sat in the chair prepared at the right side of the throne—the seat of the Supreme Commander.

Anna followed, taking the seat meant for only one other person in the entire kingdom besides the Queen herself: the Queen’s Right Hand. She was the chief advisor, bearer of the royal seal, and the only one authorized to represent the sovereign in legal matters during council.

No sooner had they sat down than a beautiful, bespectacled woman—Elizabeth Valmont, the Royal Head Chamberlain seated not far from Havel—leaned in and whispered, her voice like silk hiding a blade.

"You’re late."

Havel turned lazily, raising an eyebrow. "I had work to do."

Elizabeth smiled thinly. "Of course... As Supreme Commander, I’m sure you were very busy. Perhaps... withdrawing our troops from the borders and rolling out the red carpet for our enemies?"

Her tone was loud enough that several nearby nobles glanced their way.

Havel let out a low hiss, turning toward her with a sharp reply. "And as Head Chamberlain, you must be quite relaxed... arranging dinner menus and making sure the curtains are replaced, while rats run free in the walls."

Elizabeth didn’t reply, but her smile remained.

Until—

THUD!

The sound of the royal seal striking the wooden table echoed through the hall.

Silence fell.

Every eye turned to Anna Hartwell, who now stood at the head of the table, one hand still pressing down the engraved metal seal bearing the royal emblem, her cold gaze sweeping the chamber.

"I, Anna Hartwell, as the Right Hand of Her Majesty Queen Ashtoria Belmore, declare this session of the Royal Council formally opened."

A heavy stillness descended like a thick fog.

The nobles exchanged glances. Some sat straighter. Others took a deep breath. They all knew: when Anna Hartwell pressed the royal seal, it meant they were not dealing with just a highborn woman in her fifties—but with the full legal power that, for now, stood in place of the Queen herself.

Commander Havel folded his hands atop the table, his expression turning stiff. Elizabeth said nothing, but her eyes scanned the reactions of the other nobles.

Everyone in the room understood who was present. Dukes with private armies larger than royal garrisons. Marquises with fields of gold. Viscounts controlling trade routes and harbors.

And they all had one thing in common:

Their loyalty would shift to whoever emerged victorious.

Today, they would decide whether to continue supporting Belmore...

...or help dismantle it from within.

.

.

.

Several days had passed since the night Riven’s heart nearly burst from feelings he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud. The nights that followed were spent in silence—sharing a bed with Ashtoria, yet never taking a step further. He held himself back—because before he could truly move forward...

...there was one thing he had to resolve.

His sister’s future.

That morning, sunlight peeked gently through the curtains of their room, marking the start of a new day. Ashtoria had just left, saying she had important matters to discuss in the underground strategy chamber with Lord Valderacht.

It was the perfect moment.

Riven stood at the doorway of their room, eyes settling on Mira, who was seated across the room with a book in her hands, legs swinging lightly. She looked calm as always—but Riven knew. Behind her soft smile and bright eyes, Mira was far more perceptive than people assumed.

He exhaled quietly, then walked closer.

"Mira," he said gently.

His sister looked up and smiled, "Yes, Riven?"

Riven didn’t reply immediately. He pulled out a chair and sat across from her. His gaze was calm, yet deep. Seeing his expression, Mira closed her book.

"...What is it?" she asked, her tone turning more serious.

Riven paused for a moment, lowering his gaze as he gathered his words.

"I’ve been putting this off for a few days. But I know I can’t stay quiet anymore. This is about you—and your future. So, I need you to listen carefully."

Mira’s eyes sharpened with alertness.

Looking her straight in the eye, Riven said, quiet but firm:

"Mira... the Valderacht family wants to adopt you."

The room fell still.

Mira stared at her brother, blinking slowly as if trying to process what he had just said.

"...Adopt... me?" she whispered.

Riven nodded. "I know it’s sudden. But I’ll never tell you to accept or refuse. I just want you to understand the reasons and the choice will be yours."

Mira bit her lip, her expression shifting to uncertainty.

"Why... me?"

Riven leaned forward slightly, taking her small hand in his.

"You know who they are. The Valderachts are one of the most powerful noble families in the kingdom. They have influence, protection, access to the best education and most importantly, opportunity."

He paused, then locked eyes with her again.

"An opportunity for you to grow... and become someone great."

Mira looked at their joined hands. Her face paled slightly.

"But... why me, brother? I’m just an orphan... I’m no one..."

Riven smiled softly, raising her chin with a gentle hand.

"Don’t ever say you’re no one, Mira. You’re my sister. And... they see the potential in you. You have three elemental affinities and a Chosen-level Talent. So don’t tell me you’re not someone special."

Mira’s eyes slowly filled with tears.