As night fell, the high walls of Rahlian's royal capital loomed under the moonlight, cold as bronze. Since news of the great victory at Ulvar Canyon reached the court, emotions had surged—both in celebration and fear. Rumors slithered through palace corridors like invisible daggers, ready to strike at any moment.
Aveline rested beneath the inner palace trees in the imperial garden, her fingers tracing the faint scars of the Flame Mark brands of her identity as the "Snowflame Queen." Lucian stood at her side, his noble tunic and feather fan unable to mask his military bearing. He stared into the night sky, as if plotting the next move.
"They bear discontent," he whispered. "Old nobles have joined forces with the church, conspiring to dismantle our foundations before my return."
Aveline nodded, her gaze hardening as moonlight and candlelight flickered across her face. "I know they fear the new policies and the abolition of divine authority, even more so that my existence confirms the unbroken lineage of 'royal blood.' Tonight, we must seize the initiative in the council chamber."
Lucian placed his hand over hers, his tone softer than ever. "You are not alone."
Just then, a hidden door in the garden's depths opened softly, and a lithe figure hurried forward—General Eirya and several core members of the Silver Oath Shield. Their breaths were even, but tension hummed in the air.
"Your Majesty," Eirya bowed in a hushed, urgent voice. "Lord Herlo Palen has rallied old nobles and church forces in the council chamber, intending to propose a 'temporary regency' motion under the late queen's will. If we do not stop them immediately, no one in the palace can resist."
The city wall's alarm bell suddenly tolled, echoing the war drums in their hearts.
"The regency petition is already drafted," Herlo sneered. "We need only pass the interim decree before the will's seal is returned, transferring the queen's powers—Aveline is nothing but a usurping tyrant who must be reduced to a commoner for trial."
Bishop Cerian, the silver-robed church representative, nodded beside him. "If we can quell this 'Snowflame heresy,' the church will reclaim its rightful place in the court, and divine authority will be restored."
Before their words faded, a sharp whistle echoed from the depths of the corridor. The next instant, the chamber doors burst open as a squad of guards in dark gray leather armor charged in, heading straight for the hall's center. Lucian led them, his longsword unsheathed, its tip reflecting cold light from the candles. "Lord Herlo, we haven't met in days. Did you ever consider that betraying the queen is betraying the kingdom?"
The hall froze in shock. Herlo erupted in fury but had no time to respond. He waved his hand, and church attendants and old nobles drew daggers and rapiers to confront the intruding guards. Combat exploded on the granite floor, the clash of blades raining like hail.
Meanwhile, the Silver Oath Shield breached through the main doors, charging for the secret chamber. Bishop Cerian panicked, drawing a talisman, but General Eirya led the vanguard, hacking through the black-robed priests' attacks. "Don't let them finalize the decree! That seal must reach the throne safely!"
Aveline and Lucian entered side by side, passing through the secret chamber's mist. Torchlight illuminated the stone-carved text of the late queen's will, the bronze seal embedded in the central pedestal. Panting but unyielding, Herlo and Cerian chanted forbidden curses, aiming to smear seals across the seal.
Aveline's eyes chilled. Channeling her Royal Blood sigil, she leaned forward, placing both hands on the seal alongside Lucian. Instantly, a blazing red light erupted from the seal, flames igniting in the chamber to extinguish the curses' inky runes and incinerate the church-noble conspiracy.
"The oath of royal blood shall not fade tonight!" Aveline's shout thundered, making the entire council chamber seem to tremble.
As a fiery light curtain dissipated, the once-threatening nobles and clergy lay subdued by guards. Herlo and Cerian were manacled, awaiting trial. Lucian pointed his blade at Herlo, voice stern: "Traitors will face the queen's judgment."
Outside the council chamber, the night had turned to the gray-blue of predawn. Aveline and Lucian stood side by side in the doorway, her gaze sweeping the chaotic hall, warmth still lingering on her fingertips. She knew this victory was only the beginning—true reform and pacification required careful steps.
Lucian draped his cloak over her shoulders, murmuring: "You won the first battle, but they won't relent."
Aveline inhaled the cold night wind, her gaze crossing the city wall to the first light of dawn. "I know. But from now on, royal blood will stand as unshakable as the throne itself."
She raised her eyes to the east, where dawn broke, gilding the ancient palace in solemn golden light. Aveline closed her eyes slowly, embracing all political enemies, all plots, and the capital's rebirth within her heart.
As candlelight merged with morning rays, the dawn of justice and reform beneath the throne had never shone brighter.