Chapter 823: The Crown in Question ( 823 )
He leaned forward slightly, voice gaining weight.
"The burden of the crown is not a jewel to adorn the brow. It is judgment. Endurance. The unyielding will to sacrifice self for realm. A crown is no plaything for one still learning to stand upright beneath her own name."
His gaze fixed again on the council, lingering on those wavering in doubt, his tone pressing hard but wrapped in noble courtesy.
"Princess Kliatana, for all her grace, for all her lineage, has yet to prove herself in the forge of rule. Would you entrust the fate of this kingdom, pressed as it is from within and without, to hands untried? Shall we gamble the lives of our people on inexperience, when one misstep may fracture all that binds us together?"
Garius set his cup down lightly, his tone calm, every syllable sharpened with refined nobility.
"Pardon me, Your Grace. But by law, Princess Kliatana is no longer a child. She stands at the age where one is fit to inherit, the rightful heir to the throne. To dismiss her on the grounds of youth is to dismiss the law itself. And I believe none here wish to be seen as defying the very foundation of our kingdom’s order."
His gaze shifted briefly toward the princess, then back to the chamber.
"Furthermore, she does not stand alone. Around her are those most fit to advise and support. General Gilmon, who has held the line of this kingdom through war and hardship. The royal advisor, who has long been entrusted with the matters of court and governance. And others, sworn to uphold the crown, who are as much bound by duty as we are."
A ripple of nods stirred among a handful of nobles. Garius’s voice remained steady, polite, yet unyielding.
"An heir surrounded by seasoned counsel is no weakness, Your Grace, it is strength. For no crown is borne in solitude. Even kings require voices of wisdom beside them. Did not your late brother, King Edmund, keep men such as you, myself, and many here as his council? If wisdom lies only in one man, then every king in history would have failed."
Kimar’s smirk tightened, though his tone remained smooth as he leaned forward.
"Ah, indeed, Count Garius. She does have those around her. But shall we be blind to what that truly means?" His eyes flicked subtly toward Kliatana’s side of the chamber.
"They are the very same who once stood beside my late brother. The same men who, with all their counsel and all their words, could not dissuade him from seizing the Celestial. They failed in duty, failed in loyalty, failed in wisdom. And you would trust them still?"
His gaze swept the nobles now, his voice soft yet piercing.
"And if, by some motion of this council, they were stripped away and replaced... tell me, who then would take their place? Men without the knowledge of the court, without the years spent learning its weight? Would you entrust a child’s crown to strangers with neither experience nor loyalty proven?"
Kimar spread his hand, the gesture slow and deliberate, his smile sharp.
"Would that be wise?"
Kimar’s smirk lingered as he leaned back, fingers brushing the rim of his goblet. His tone was measured, but the undercurrent was sharp.
"Besides... according to the Royal Law, and the records of our kingdom’s history, never once has a girl ascended as ruler. Nor has the crown ever rested upon one still deemed underage. It is not tradition, nor precedent. It is folly."
He let his eyes sweep across the hall, pausing on several nobles whose faces stiffened under the weight of his words. Then, slowly, his gaze returned to Garius.
"And surely, you know this well, Count Garius. Am I wrong? Even you, who so often reminds us of law and order, cannot deny what is written."
His smile curved, feigned courtesy hiding the bite beneath. He lifted his goblet slightly, gesturing toward the far side of the chamber where a robed figure sat at attention.
"The remaining honorable members of this council know it too. And if their memory falters, the Keeper of the Royal Tome sits among us."
All eyes turned briefly to the old man in ceremonial robes, seated near the dais. In his hands rested the heavy tome bound in blackened leather, gilded with the seal of the crown, a book that contained the kingdom’s laws and precedents, unbroken since its founding.
"Every line, every precedent, every ruling of crown and council lies within those pages," Kimar said smoothly, his smirk widening.
"And within them, no record exists of a girl crowned king, nor of an heir crowned before their proper age. So tell me, Count Garius, shall we now discard our own laws, simply to appease sentiment?"
Garius straightened slightly, his calm composure sharpening into something weightier. His voice carried no anger, only a measured edge.
"So, Your Grace," he said evenly, eyes never leaving Kimar, "is it safe to say that your words today... point toward the throne itself? That you, among all of us, see fit to measure who may sit upon it?"
A hush rippled through the chamber. Nobles shifted in their seats, some with widened eyes, others leaning forward as if tasting blood in the air.
Kimar gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head as though dismissing the notion, though his smirk betrayed him.
"Ah, Count Garius, you wound me. I have never had eyes for the crown. I am but a humble servant of this kingdom. My only concern is stability. Order. To see the right hand raised, and the wrong hand stayed. Nothing more."
His voice was honeyed, his denial wrapped in courtesy, yet everyone in the chamber could sense the lie veiled beneath it.
Garius lifted his glass once more, letting the light catch on its polished edge before lowering it with deliberate grace.
"Then, by your wisdom, Your Grace," he said smoothly, a polite smile curving his lips.
"How do you propose we proceed? Since you seem most eager to remind us of the law, and of precedent, surely you also carry a vision of what should follow."
Kimar’s smirk flickered briefly before he veiled it beneath a calm, noble smile. His voice carried a tone of reason, smooth and deliberate, as he spread one hand toward the center of the chamber.
"Then, let us not cloud this hall with endless back-and-forth. The matter is simple enough. We should allow the council to decide, as it has always been, under the guidance of the royal law."
His eyes shifted toward the side where the Keeper of the Royal Tome sat, the ancient book of law resting upon its stand. The keeper, robed in solemn colors, inclined his head faintly in acknowledgment.
"Surely," Kimar continued, his hand still gesturing with practiced grace, "none here would dispute the will of the council, nor the judgment preserved within the law itself. Let us place the question where it belongs, into the hands of this body, before the witness of tradition and record."
( End Of Chapter )