November 5th, 8:25 a.m.

“Medith!” Haidra stood to the right of the throne, eyes bright like morning dew. It felt like their first time seeing a storm break.

“Huh? Where’s Lord Draela?” Haidra glanced at the first step below the throne. Only three stood there. The king’s [Royal Authority Guard] should be four.

“Before Medith and the others arrived, Lord Draela went out with court officers. I don’t know why,” Hippo said, long spear lifted like a steel banner.

“Oh.” Haidra didn’t dwell on it. The King’s Squad moved like ghosts. If it wasn’t a grand rite, they were smoke. As long as he was safe.

In moments, tens of thousands pooled beneath the platform, a tide of people. Neighbors dropped their chores, climbed to rooftops, spilled from doorways to taste the spectacle.

Ogathas appeared in their sight with the queen, two princes, and Venus. As they passed Hippo, no one noticed Paris trade a glance with him, quick as a flicker.

“Look! His Majesty and the princes!”

“Wow! The real thing! And Princess Venus! She’s adorable...”

“Those three—are they the fabled [Royal Court Squad]?”

“What’s going on? Such a grand array...”

“Who knows? He’s the king.”

“Ogathas isn’t that sort. If he calls like this, it’s something weighty.”

The crowd started to churn with talk. Ogathas stepped to the front of the dais and raised his hand like calm over waves.

“Oooh!”

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”

The square erupted, a mountain-surge of voices. Even beyond the plaza, the roar rolled in. Medith and the others, special by status, had a premium view inside the cordon.

“Wow! His Majesty’s truly beloved... my eardrums are going to burst...” Phiby clutched her ears, face scrunched like a wrung cloth.

Even Sais pressed her ear canals with slender fingers. “This cry is terrifying...”

“Ah... this is... the sound a monarch lives on,” Medith smiled, warmed like sunlight through silk. Nothing stirs hearts like this. She couldn’t help shouting too.

“Everyone, we gather here today for an important announcement.

I ascended thirty-five years ago. Now, past sixty, by law, I must yield.”

“What! His Majesty’s reached the age?!”

“Don’t, Your Majesty!”

“Please amend the law—extend it to seventy!”

“Your Majesty!”

“Your Majesty!”

A wail swept the square, then thud-thud-thud—knees hit stone like rain on drums. In under a minute, everyone knelt, foreheads to the ground. “We beg Your Majesty to extend your reign!”

“We beg Your Majesty to extend your reign!”

Countless pleas rushed the sky, shaking loose chips of masonry. Medith and the others stared, breath caught; the scene was so vast it strangled words.

Even Lahiss might not draw such devotion.

“Everyone...” Ogathas’ eyes brimmed, tears bright as river-light. In a blink, the plaza became a sea of salt. So this is what a sage looks like.

“Rise, all of you. You are my family, my subjects. I thank you deeply for your love. But my body falters, and the princes are excellent and mature, already beyond me. I give the crown to the two princes, each to bear it for a year. Whoever wins the people’s recognition within that year will be the next king.

The overseers will be the nobles and the people. Now, I give the crown to Prince Elyu. At year’s end, if he fails the mark, the crown passes to Paris. If both fail, we’ll appoint another.

Now.”

Ogathas removed the crown and slowly placed it upon Elyu.

Paris didn’t react at all, face calm as a lake at dawn, as if he had expected it.

When the crown settled on Elyu’s brow, the crowd burst like fireworks: “Emperor Aelius! Emperor Aelius!”

“Hahaha...” Medith and the others caught the fever, clapping in bright rhythm. “Why wasn’t Prince Paris first to inherit?” Sais whispered, voice thin as thread.

Medith kept clapping, lips barely moving. “You didn’t see? They call it rotation, but it’s already set. One year—with His Highness Elyu’s skill, winning the people is child’s play.

But His Highness has a public image, not achievements. Paris is the opposite.

Ogathas used the art of balance—this excuse soothes the masses and flatters Paris’ backers. In their eyes, there’s still hope.

Next will be Prince Paris’ title.”

“A title?” The women breathed the question in windspeak.

Elyu stood with a steady gaze. His voice rang like steel on stone. “I, Elyu Ogathas, will not fail you. May Eunomia be with me!”

“May Eunomia shelter Emperor Aelius!”

The people accepted it as naturally as wind filling sails. Elyu turned, facing Paris, who remained half-kneeling, head bowed.

“Now, I formally appoint Paris Ogathas, Grand Duke, as Prime Minister of the Crown.” Elyu drew out the prepared medal, bronze gleaming like dawn.

Paris still did not rise. The crowd’s cry climbed and climbed, cresting at a peak. Disappointment flickered in Ogathas’ eyes; the queen’s face tightened. Elyu’s hand trembled on the medal. Haidra frowned, puzzled. Hippo’s grip bit the spear shaft.

Time stretched like pulled sugar. Then Paris stood, face lit with joy and respect. “Thank you, Your Majesty, for your grace. I will swear my life to aid you. I make a blood oath here: Your joy, our honor; your wrath, our shame; your blood, our guilt.

I will follow Emperor Aelius to the death!”

He dropped to one knee, forehead touching stone, sincerity solid as iron.

“We will follow Emperor Aelius to the death!” Countless knees hit again. Elyu, back to the crowd, let out a long breath, like a bowstring eased.

Ogathas smiled, pride warm as a hearth. The queen wept for joy. Hippo’s body loosened like a released coil. “Emperor Aelius! Emperor Aelius!”

“Prime Minister Paris! Prime Minister Paris!”

From below, Medith watched the brothers stand shoulder to shoulder. Paris’ face and movements showed no stain. Maybe he wasn’t the serpent she had imagined.

“Brothers in harness—one within, one without. Eunomia’s rise sits just beyond the horizon,” Medith said, smiling like sunrise.

“Mm...” The women had no words left. The sight before them would be a lifetime’s brand.