Chapter 129: The Decision That Was Already Moving
Chapter 128: The Decision That Was Already Moving
Alaric Veyne did not yield.
Not in posture. Not in tone. Not in the steady way his gaze remained fixed across the table, as though he could press reason itself into the room and force it to obey.
He exhaled once, a controlled sound.
"I have not forgotten myself, Your Majesty," he said.
The Queen did not respond.
Neither did the King.
So he continued.
"I am stating fact. And fact alone suggests that refusing Princess Lyria entry into the competition will do more harm to the Royal Family than her inclusion ever could."
There was a faint pause.
"This matter, though," he added, "was not accounted for when the competition was first established."
A subtle shift passed through the hall.
Alaric turned then, his attention moving deliberately.
To the High Priestess.
Lady Seraphine Vael met his gaze without hesitation, her pale robes catching faint light from the chandeliers above.
"High Priestess," Alaric said evenly, "tell me this—how is it that you did not see there were two Moon candidates?"
A brief silence followed.
Seraphine’s expression remained unchanged.
"I am not the one who foretold the prophecy," she replied calmly.
Alaric’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"That is true, but you are a priestess all the same," he said. "You stand within the temple’s sight. You interpret what others cannot. You represent the Goddess. Are we to believe this was entirely unseen?"
Seraphine did not flinch.
"Not everything is shown," she said. "And it is not my fault the Goddess did not choose to reveal it to me."
A faint stillness followed.
Alaric studied her for a moment longer than necessary.
Then, slowly, he exhaled.
And shook his head once.
Seraphine had always hated the way he questioned her, as though she were not legitimate. Sometimes she wondered if he could see through her—though she doubted he could.
He turned then and focused on Durnham.
The Voice of Nobility sat with visible displeasure already forming across his face, as though he had been waiting for the conversation to return to something he could properly object to.
Alaric did not soften.
"Princess Lyria must partake in the competition," he said.
Durnham’s expression twisted instantly, disgust plain on his features.
He leaned back as though the very suggestion offended him physically.
But before he could speak, Lord Halverton interjected.
"Then we refute the matter entirely," he said. "We declare the rumours false. We state clearly that the girl is not the King’s daughter. The matter ends there."
A pause followed, and Alaric rolled his eyes, mirroring Durnham’s expression. He was about to speak when Lady Mirelle cleared her throat softly.
All attention shifted to her at once.
She did not appear unsettled by it.
Instead, she adjusted the parchments before her with careful precision, aligning edges that did not need aligning.
"That is not possible," she said.
Halverton frowned slightly.
Mirelle did not look at him; instead, she continued.
"Requests have come in from across the kingdom."
She paused.
"Formal petitions," she added, "requesting that the competition be restarted entirely—with Princess Lyria included as a candidate."
A faint silence settled over the table.
The Queen hummed softly, as though she had anticipated this long before it arrived.
"That is not surprising," she said.
Halverton did not relent.
"That girl should not be involved in this process at all," he said firmly.
Durnham nodded immediately.
"Yes," he agreed. "The competition is for nobles. That has always been its purpose."
Mirelle finally lifted her gaze.
"If the competition were for nobles alone," she said calmly, "then the Moon would lose all credibility as the Moon of the Empire."
She paused, taking a measured look at those gathered before she spoke again.
"She did not descend just for nobility," she continued. "She descended for the kingdom at large."
Her gaze swept the table.
"Commoners make the kingdom," she said. "Without them, the nobility is nothing more than decoration."
The reaction was immediate.
Durnham struck his hand against the table, hard.
"Know your place," he snapped.
Mirelle turned her head slowly toward him.
Her expression did not change.
"I know my place," she said quietly, then tilted her head, observing him. "It seems you are the one who does not understand yours."
The room tightened.
Stillness pressed in from every side.
Then Mirelle shifted her attention away from him entirely, returning it to the Queen.
"Your Majesty," she said, "I was informed that Princess Lyria has been assigned new chambers?"
The Queen tilted her head slightly.
A long moment passed.
Then she nodded.
"Yes."
Mirelle regarded her carefully.
"That is a good beginning," she said.
Her tone remained steady.
"Because at this stage, there is no returning to concealment. The matter has already escalated beyond containment, after all. And it cannot be undone."
The Queen watched her quietly without saying a word.
Mirelle tapped the parchment once.
"I vote that the competition begin again. Though," she said with a pause, "I see little need for a vote at all."
She locked eyes with the Queen at that point.
"Your Majesties have, after all, already decided what should happen... right?"
Silence followed again.
The Queen did not look away.
Neither did the King.
They both observed her quietly for a while.
Then, at last, the Queen gave a small, composed nod.
"Yes," she said simply. "It is as you say."
Her gaze sharpened faintly.
"Princess Lyria will join the competition." she said calmly.
"The truth is no longer contained," she continued. "It has been seen by the entire kingdom. There is no returning to what was hidden. And so she will partake as a candidate for the competition."
Halverton’s jaw tightened.
Durnham’s expression darkened further. "Your Majesties, this is—"
Before he could finish his words, Mirelle spoke up. "That is the correct decision, Your Majesty," she said calmly. "But perhaps that will not be enough, because there is something more the commoners are beginning to ask for."
"Oh?" the Queen asked. "And what could that be?"
