Rise of the Devourer
Book 4: Chapter 42 — The Council

The great council chamber of Drakonias had been hastily cleared of debris and corruption, but the scars of recent events were still visible in the cracked walls and hastily repaired windows. Emergency lighting crystals cast an uneven glow over the assembled military leaders and guild representatives who had gathered to address the kingdom's future.

Noah stood near the back of the chamber with his companions, right besides Vion. Vion sat in a chair that had been quickly repurposed as a throne, her bearing just as regal as it had been during the ceremony despite all the changes she’d gone through.

At the head of the chamber, King Draxius—the real one, he’d been found in a small prison cell in the depths of the basement from which he had been freed the moment Vion returned safe and sound—sat in his formal throne, but his posture spoke of defeat rather than authority. His face bore the gaunt look you would expect from someone who had endured prolonged captivity, and his eyes held a haunted quality to them.

King Draxius raised a trembling hand, and the hushed whispers through the chamber fell silent. "While I was imprisoned," he said, his voice heavy with guilt, "it was not I who saved our kingdom—it was my daughter and her companions who faced the true threat. They showed courage and wisdom that I..." He paused, struggling with the words. "That I was unable to provide when it mattered most. I have failed as a king, and I am no longer fit to rule. I must abdicate."

The chamber exploded into chaos.

"Your Majesty, you cannot!" Lord Harwick leaped to his feet, his face flushed with alarm. "The kingdom needs stability! You are and have been our rightful king!"

"Abdication would throw everything into uncertainty!" Duchess Morwyn declared, her voice shrill with panic. "The succession laws, the treaties with other kingdoms—"

General Thorne stood as well, his military bearing rigid with concern. "Sire, you were a victim of forces beyond mortal comprehension. No one could fault you for what happened under those circumstances."

"The people need continuity," Admiral Korven added. "Your Majesty has ruled wisely for decades. One crisis does not erase a lifetime of service."

Even Guildmaster Renna looked troubled. "The economic implications alone... foreign investors, trade agreements..."

King Draxius held up his hand again, and gradually the protests died down. "I understand your concerns," he said quietly. "But look at what my daughter has become. Look at the power she now wields, the wisdom she has gained. She saved us all when I could not even save myself."

He turned to look directly at Vion, his eyes filled with unmistakable pride despite his sorrow. "Princess Vion has faced forces that could end kingdoms, sacrificed herself for her people, and emerged not just as a survivor but as something greater than what I ever was. The throne should be hers."

The council members exchanged uncertain glances, clearly struggling with the unprecedented situation. Finally, Lord Harwick spoke with obvious reluctance.

Vion rose from her chair with fluid grace, her presence somehow filling the chamber despite her relatively small stature. There was something about her now that commanded respect even from those who might have dismissed her days before.

"With my father's blessing, I claim the throne of Drakonias," she declared, her voice carrying both the warmth yet authority. "Not as the last of an old bloodline, but as the first of something new.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Then Lord Harwick rose slowly from his seat.

"Your Majesty," he said, his voice having just the slightest trace of reluctant acceptance, "it is indeed true you have proven yourself in ways that cannot be denied. You saved us all when we could not save ourselves."

One by one, the other council members began to stand. Duchess Morwyn was among the last, her face slightly pale. "You carry power beyond anything we have seen in generations, Your Majesty. Perhaps... perhaps new times do call for new approaches."

General Thorne stepped forward and went down on one knee. "You have my sword and my loyalty, Princess Vion. Your courage in the face of impossible odds has earned both."

Admiral Korven followed suit. "The navy stands with you, Your Majesty."

Guildmaster Renna bowed deeply. "The merchant guilds recognize your authority and wisdom, Your Majesty."

Even Averos knelt, his weathered face showing deep respect. "You have my family's loyalty, as you have always had our friendship."

King Draxius watched the proceedings with a mixture of relief and profound sadness, but also unmistakable pride. His daughter had become everything he had hoped she could be, and more than he had ever imagined possible.

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With the succession formally acknowledged, the atmosphere in the chamber shifted to the practical matters at hand. Now they had reached the issue that everyone had been dreading—what to do about the rebellion.

"The instigators must face justice," declared Lord Harwick, his voice carrying the authority of generations of privilege as he gestured toward a list of names. "Treason is treason, regardless of their motivations. We cannot set a precedent that allows common-born rabble to challenge the crown without consequences."

"Agreed," said Duchess Morwyn, her sharp features set in disapproving lines. "These rebels destroyed property, incited violence, and undermined the stability of our realm. If not for Her Majesty’s wisdom, they could have ended our very kingdom. Mercy would only encourage future uprisings."

But General Thorne shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Your Grace, while I don't disagree with the need for consequences, we must consider why these people felt driven to such extremes. My soldiers report widespread resentment in the outer territories."

"Resentment born of ingratitude," Lord Harwick scoffed. "The crown provides protection, infrastructure, trade opportunities. What more do they want?"

Guildmaster Renna cleared her throat delicately. "If I may, my lord, restrictions based on bloodline status have indeed created... tensions. Many talented individuals find themselves unable to advance despite their capabilities."

"As the gods intended," Duchess Morwyn snapped. "Order exists for a reason. Remove the natural hierarchies, and chaos follows."

Before anyone could respond, Noah felt compelled to speak. "If I may," he said, stepping forward despite the hostile glances from several nobles, "the events that preceded this rebellion cannot be ignored. There were legitimate grievances that drove people to desperation."

Lord Harwick's face darkened. "Outsider, we are grateful for your assistance in our time of crisis, but this is an internal matter of the kingdom. Your opinions on our domestic policies are neither requested nor welcome."

"Those policies nearly got everyone killed," Aurelia shot back, bristling at the dismissive tone. "Maybe you should listen to people who aren't so invested in maintaining a broken system."

Duchess Morwyn rose from her seat, her voice ice-cold. "How dare you? We have maintained order and prosperity in this kingdom for centuries with our so-called broken system. Don’t you dare forget yourselves. This is not your kingdom, and these are not your people. We will handle our own affairs."

"Perhaps we should hear them out," Guildmaster Renna said cautiously. "They did save our capital, after all."

"They are heroes, certainly," said Admiral Korven, speaking thoughtfully. "But heroism in battle does not grant wisdom in governance. These matters require delicate consideration."

But before the situation could escalate further, Vion's voice cut through the growing tension like a blade through silk. When she spoke, it was with an authority that made even the most arrogant nobles pause.

"Enough," she said, and the single word seemed to resonate with power. "My friends raise valid points, but you are all correct that this is ultimately our decision to make."

"The rebels will face justice," she declared, her tone brooking no argument. "Treason, vandalism, and the violence that claimed innocent lives cannot be ignored or forgiven simply because their cause had merit. Those who took up arms against the crown will be punished according to the law."

Lord Harwick smiled with satisfaction, and Duchess Morwyn nodded approvingly. But their expressions quickly changed as Vion continued.

"However," she said, her voice growing stronger, "I will not perpetuate the systems that drove them to such desperate measures in the first place. The bloodline restrictions that have defined advancement and opportunity in this kingdom end with me. Merit, not birth, will determine a person's place in our society."

The chamber erupted in protests from the noble quarter.

"Preposterous!" Lord Harwick sputtered. "The natural order—"

"Will lead to chaos!" Duchess Morwyn declared. "Your Majesty, you speak from emotion, not reason!"

But Guildmaster Renna leaned forward with obvious interest. "Such changes could boost trade significantly. Merit-based advancement would unlock considerable economic potential."

Admiral Korven stroked his beard thoughtfully. "The naval academies have long struggled with the restrictions. Some of our most promising candidates are held back by bloodline requirements."

Vion raised her hand and the very air seemed to still around her.

"This is not a negotiation," she stated with finality. "This is an order.”

A tense silence spread through the room. It was Averos who broke it, with the measured caution necessary. "Your Majesty," he said respectfully, "such sweeping changes cannot be implemented overnight. You will need time to build support, to consolidate your position, to prove that these new policies can work without destabilizing everything we have built."

Vion nodded graciously. "You speak wisely, Lord Averos. Change will come gradually, thoughtfully, with proper consideration for the complexities involved. But it will come. That is not a promise—it is a certainty."

The silence that followed was just as tense as before. Noah could see the wheels turning in every mind present as they grappled with the implications of what Vion was proposing. Some faces were outright blank, while others let a hint of nervousness slip—but there were still others who had the calculating look of those already trying to determine how to profit from the coming changes.

"This kingdom will thrive," Vion continued, her words carrying the weight of prophecy. "But it will thrive because we choose to build something better than what came before. Because we recognize that true strength comes not from excluding others, but from lifting them up alongside us."

She paused, her gaze sweeping across the assembled leaders before settling on Noah and his companions. "And because we understand that the challenges ahead are too great for any single person or group to face alone. We will need allies, friends, and partners who share our vision of what this world can become."

Discussions gradually began once more, this time about more mundane stuff such as reconstruction and the plans for that. Once they’d discussed everything they needed to, the throne room gradually emptied as the various factions went off to digest what they had heard and plan their next moves.

But Noah remained, watching as Vion sat quietly directly opposite her father’s empty throne—Draxius had retired to his personal chambers to rest—that would soon officially be hers, her expression thoughtful and determined.

Just like her mother and father had wanted, she was beginning a new era for the kingdom. As the first member of a Great Race and a wonderful and wise woman, Noah couldn’t help but believe Vion would make this kingdom thrive, when she was at the helm.