[color=lightgray][color=DDB775][center][h1]꧁༺ 𝓘𝓰𝓷𝓲𝓼 3 𝓜𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 ༻꧂[/h1] 
[img]https://i.ibb.co/DfM3ssw4/8bcffeea-b7a8-44d3-9866-1d7dbfde80f6.png[/img][/center][/color]

[color=DDB775]Time: [/color]Ignis 3 (Morning)  

[color=DDB775]Location: [/color]Danrose Castle — Council Chamber  

[color=DDB775]Characters Present (MUST READ):[/color] [@Tae] Torvi, [@Oso] Kilian, [@FunnyGuy] Alexander Deacon, Lorenzo Vikena  

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The Council Chamber of Danrose Castle sat in the back of the second floor of the castle, behind two guarded corridors and a final set of doors. Inside, there was a note of incense that did not belong to the castle at all. Someone from the Church had brought it. Someone from the Church had decided the room needed sanctifying before a king spoke in it.

The chamber was gilded. Long dark tables occupied the center in neat lines, while the perimeter of the chamber rose into a continuous spectator gallery: tiered benches set behind a carved wooden balustrade, wrapping the walls so that the entire council floor sat under observation from every side. Carved lions watched from the chair backs below, while above them the gallery’s woodwork framed the seated nobility like a ring of witnesses. The dukes usually sat in thrones smaller than the king’s, but close enough that he could speak to them eye to eye if he chose. There were nameplates on each Duke’s table. 

Duke Lorenzo Vikena, Duke Gideon Edwards, and Duke Laurent Petit, were all required to be present.

And the Church’s higher-ups had their own section, deliberately marked. They were dressed uniformly: pale gloves, dark robes, a bank of figures arranged so neatly it looked less like seating and more like an extension of law. On one wall, a raised map of Caesonia had been pinned up.

At the table’s head, King Edin Danrose waited as if he had been carved there. He wore the Caesonian colors, and he was dressed even more extravagantly than usual, the fabric rich enough to make a statement all on its own, the golden crown set above his brow. A folder of vellum lay open near his hand, but he did not look down at it. He did not need to.

To his right sat Alexander Deacon. To Edin’s left sat his children. Wulfric’s expression was smooth enough to pass as calm to anyone who did not know him. Auguste held himself with stillness. Anastasia had been dressed for purity; pale fabric with lace going high up her neck, hair restrained into a neat braid down her back.

She should not have been invited, by the Church’s logic. A princess did not belong here. But Edin had put her there anyway, not because he wished to hear her speak, but because he wanted every person in the room to remember that he still had a bloodline to defend, still had something unburnt to show.

At the center of those from the Church sat High Justicar of Imperis Julius Marrowe, his countenance severe. Beside him was Canon Advocate Father Mathieu Cresson, whose expression carried faint warmth. A veiled Confessor sat near them with her hands folded around a small book bound in leather. The Archivist, Emery Hawthorne, looked almost mundane beside them until one noticed the way his eyes moved. Ash Marshal Garrick Voss sat with two Lantern Wardens near the edge of the Church’s section, his hand resting close to the ceremonial mace at his belt as naturally as another man might rest it on a sword.

The Varian delegation entered last. They were not dressed like Churchmen; their coats were cut for movement, their gloves for handling what decent people pretended did not exist, their boots marked with old soot. Each bore the badge of the Vanguard Society—Argent Bastion’s sigil rendered in metal.

At their center was Grandmaster Eryndor Vainholt, an elder with a thick beard and eyes more intense than many had ever seen.

Edin let the silence stretch, because he understood silence as a weapon. Then he rose slowly.

[color=DDB775]“You all know why you are here,”[/color] he said. [color=DDB775]“The capital has suffered an attack in one of its taverns. The streets have tasted sorcery and panic in equal measure. My court has suffered scandal. My household has been exposed to contamination.”[/color]

[color=DDB775]“So hear me plainly,”[/color] Edin continued, voice steady. [color=DDB775]“We will not allow a single street to believe that the Crown hides sin behind closed doors. If the Church must look upon my house, then they will see a king who carves rot from the tree with his own hand.”[/color]

He turned his head slightly toward the Varian hunters. [color=DDB775]“You have been brought here because you understand what we face,”[/color] he said, [color=DDB775]“and because you have proven you can act without trembling,your authority expands. You will have access to sites, suspects, and records without delay. You will have my enforcers to open doors, my jailers to hold bodies, and my stamp to make it lawful.”[/color] Many of the church’s people wore scowls on their faces in reaction to such a declaration.

The King’s eyes swept the room, taking in the nobility behind their nameplates, the Church behind their gloves, his children behind their obedience.

[color=DDB775]“Masks come off,”[/color] he said firmly. [color=DDB775]“Citywide. Anyone hidden is either a coward or a conspirator, and I will treat them accordingly. Patrols double. Taverns are routinely searched. And anyone found harboring magical items will be taken. Searches begin at dawn and do not end until the city remembers what it begged for.”[/color]

The High Justicar did not flinch at the brutality. [color=#7d8bb3]“Your Majesty,”[/color] he began curtly,. [color=#7d8bb3]“Force will scatter them.This is not merely a civic threat. It is a doctrinal emergency.”[/color] His eyes did not soften. [color=#7d8bb3]“You must contain the story, or it will contain you.”[/color]

Father Mathieu’s voice slid in after. [color=#c48f6a]“Visible discipline satisfies the crowd,”[/color] he said gently. [color=#c48f6a]“But sealed discipline becomes truth. The realm cannot be cleansed by spectacle alone; it must be cleansed by certainty.”[/color]

Edin glanced, almost absentmindedly, at the brass pins on the map, and for a moment it was easy to imagine him striking names off the kingdom.

The pause that followed was not disagreement so much as appetite. The Justicar’s gaze followed Edin’s gaze where it lingered on the raised map and its brass pins, then returned to Edin.

[color=#7d8bb3]“If you intend a hunt,”[/color] Julius Marrowe said, [color=#7d8bb3]“then you will conduct it as correction, not as sport. We will not have mobs improvising holiness in alleyways. So we will now summarize what the Court of Imperis requires.”[/color]

[color=#7d8bb3]“First: a decree of Distance,”[/color] he said, [color=#7d8bb3]“to govern every search, every confiscation, every examination. Gloves for contact and veils for hearings. No unauthorized handling of confiscated items.”[/color]

Father Mathieu’s voice slid in beside his, warmer and more delicate. [color=#c48f6a]“Second: a decree of Speech,”[/color] he added, [color=#c48f6a]“Certain terms, certain symbols, certain histories will remain prohibited to print,and prohibited to teach. We will provide approved language, and the city will repeat it until it becomes truth.”[/color] His gaze flicked toward the satchel at a clerk’s feet, already heavy with paper. [color=#c48f6a]“If you allow free tongues, Your Majesty, you will spend a month fighting ideas instead of criminals.”[/color]

Hawthorne finally spoke. [color=#b0a7a0]“Third: registries,”[/color] he said. [color=#b0a7a0]“Household inventories. Servant interviews. University rosters. Guild ledgers. Shipping manifests. Property leases. Apothecary purchases. Printer orders. Candle-maker receipts, if necessary.”[/color] 

Marrowe’s gaze did not leave Edin. [color=#7d8bb3]“Fourth:a chain-of-command,”[/color] he said. [color=#7d8bb3]“No hunter arrests a noble without a sealed writ. No interrogator compels a confession without a recorded witness. No execution occurs without the Court’s signature.”[/color]

[color=DDB775]“No execution without [i]your signature[/i]?”[/color] Edin repeated indignantly, appalled by the nerve. 

Ash Marshal Voss’s hand hovered near his ceremonial mace as naturally as another man might rest his palm on a sword. [color=#87909a]“We will designate cleansing sites,”[/color] he said. [color=#87909a]“Confiscated objects burned under guard.”[/color]

For a moment, it almost sounded like the Church was advising moderation.

And then Edin smiled, cold, and entirely humorless, because moderation was exactly what he could not afford.

[color=DDB775]“Good,”[/color] Edin said, and the single word hit the room like a gavel. [color=DDB775]“Give me your decrees. Give me your approved phrases. Give me your seals and your ledgers.”[/color] He leaned forward slightly, [color=DDB775]“And I will give you more than you asked for. But I am not requesting the Church’s blessing to defend my dominion.”[/color]

Marrowe’s eyes narrowed. [color=#7d8bb3]“ No uncontrolled—”[/color]

[color=DDB775]“—chaos,”[/color] Edin finished, merciless. [color=DDB775]“Agreed.”[/color] He leaned forward again. [color=DDB775]“So we will do this cleanly. And we will do it everywhere.”[/color]

He lifted a hand, palm down. [color=DDB775]“Audits by noon and arrests before nightfall,”[/color] His gaze swept the table without apology. 

[color=#7d8bb3]“The accused must be handled under Protocol,”[/color] Marrowe said. [color=#7d8bb3]“Pyres are not—”[/color]

Edin’s voice didn’t rise. [color=DDB775]“Pyres are doctrine,”[/color] he said. [color=DDB775]“Burn sites that are designated and guarded. The capital will watch contraband turn to nothing until the word ‘witch’ tastes like fear again.”[/color]

Marrowe held him for a long moment, and when he spoke, it was colder. [color=#7d8bb3]“A city taught to burn will start choosing its own kindling,”[/color] he warned.

Edin’s mouth barely moved. [color=DDB775]“Then we will choose it for them,”[/color] he said. [color=DDB775]“And if anyone tries to hide this evil again, they will learn what correction looks like when a king is forced to prove he is not complicit.”[/color]

A heavy silence followed. Not because they were shocked, few people in that room were capable of shock, but because everyone understood what had just happened.

The Church had attempted to build a machine and Edin had offered to turn the machine into a crusher. 

But Edin didn’t see it that way. His gaze moved to the Justicar again, and the next words were chosen carefully. [color=DDB775]“We are allies in correction,”[/color] he said. [color=DDB775]“But I will not be remembered as the king who let a priesthood replace a throne, a throne that was bestowed to me by the Gods themselves. We cleanse together, or we break together.”[/color]

The Justicar’s expression did not change, which was its own answer.

Edin did not let the Justicar’s silence become the last word. He turned to the Varian delegation. [color=DDB775]“Let this be understood,”[/color] Edin began, [color=DDB775]“What I said earlier still stands. You have my permission to do what is required to protect this realm.”[/color] His gaze swept the table, deciding who would remember this week with gratitude and who would remember it with hatred. 

Grandmaster Eryndor Vainholt rose like a man who had never once needed an audience to feel certain of himself. [color=#6A8F6D]“Your Majesty,”[/color] Vainholt said. [color=#6A8F6D]“ We are here to end a threat.”[/color] He did not waste breath on metaphor. [color=#6A8F6D]“Where we find witchcraft, there is no mercy.”[/color] 

[color=#6A8F6D]“Nobility will be handled with discretion. They will be brought to your feet.”[/color] he added. [color=#6A8F6D]“Not to spare pride, but to spare stability.”[/color]

At last, Edin gestured to the Chancellor, who slid a vellum document forward. 

[color=DDB775]“Ignis Tenth,”[/color] Edin declared. [color=DDB775]“The tribunal will convene under ecclesiastical court. The city will see that the Crown does not shelter contamination. The city will see that even a queen is not above correction.”[/color]

Anastasia’s chair made the faintest sound as she shifted, and Edin’s head turned toward her with a warning so quiet it did not need words. She stilled at once.

Wulfric’s voice entered the room suddenly. [color=ab274f]“You mean the city will see blood,”[/color] he said evenly. [color=ab274f]“Because that is what they are already demanding.”[/color]

Edin did not soften the truth to spare anyone’s conscience. [color=DDB775]“Yes,”[/color] he replied. [color=DDB775]“They want blood. And if I do not give them a sanctioned fire, they will build their own. I would rather hold the torch than be consumed by the mob that steals it.”[/color]

Auguste finally spoke, and when he did, it was not emotional. [color=#EEDC5B]“Who commands the hunters,”[/color] he asked, eyes on the Church rather than Edin. [color=#EEDC5B]“Not in theory, but in practice. If a witch hunter decides a noble is tainted, who authorizes the arrest? If a suspect is killed, who answers for it? If a confession is coerced, who is punished?”[/color]

The question was a hook, and for a moment the room was very still, because it forced everyone to look directly at the ugly truth.

[color=#7d8bb3]“The Court of Imperis prefers discernment,”[/color] the Justicar answered at last. [color=#7d8bb3]“The Crown commands the streets. The hunters serve the work the King has called them to complete.”[/color] His gaze rested on Auguste. [color=#7d8bb3]“If you fear disorder, Prince Auguste, then you should welcome our oversight. We are not interested in chaos. We are interested in cleansing.”[/color]

Edin’s mouth tightened again. Meanwhile, Anastasia, unable to help herself, leaned forward, eyes flashing. [color=ef82a5]“So you all now get to decide who is [i]‘clean’[/i] enough to be alive. You’re all pretending to be Gods!”[/color] she said, voice sharp with outrage. With a sound of disgust, she added, folding her arms, [color=ef82a5]“And you want the rest of us to smile politely while you write down in your stupid book which of us should burn.”[/color] She snapped her gaze at her father, [color=ef82a5]“Including your own wife!”[/color]

A cold stillness spread through the Church’s section; the kind that didn’t need shouting to become a threat. [color=#7d8bb3]“Mind your tongue, Princess.”[/color] came an icy warning from the Justicar.

Edin turned his head slowly toward her, and the look he gave her was not fatherly. It was sovereign. [color=DDB775]“You will remain silent,”[/color] he said, calm enough to be terrifying. [color=DDB775]“You will be a daughter of Caesonia today, not a foolish girl with her foolish opinions. If you don’t want to follow your mother to her pyre, you will learn the difference.”[/color]

Anastasia’s face flushed, furious and humiliated, but she pressed her lips together and sat back. Auguste did not touch her, but his posture angled subtly in her direction, protective in a way that did not invite attention. 

It was then that Duke Laurent Petit was permitted to speak, not because the room wished to hear him. He rose with his hands folded over his chest. [color=47d8ff]“Your Majesty,”[/color] Laurent began, and his tone carried that familiar reverent calm. [color=47d8ff]“It is not my habit to stir waters. I have always believed that when men thrash and shout, they mistake their own panic for prophecy. Yet a river does not need a man’s permission to flood, and the heavens do not request our comfort when they choose to speak.”[/color]

He lifted his gaze as if the ceiling might open and show him proof. [color=47d8ff]“We have witnessed a sign. Not because we earned it, but because we have grown careless enough to require it.”[/color]

He spoke on for a very long time, winding for more than anyone wished, gathering momentum like a sermon that had waited years for a reason to exist. His metaphors came often, and the strangest part was how easily they landed in this room.

[color=47d8ff]“A kingdom is a body,”[/color] he said, voice rising, [color=47d8ff]“and purity is not an ornament we wear for festivals. It is the blood that keeps the limbs from dying. When sorcery touches the streets, it is not merely crime. It is infection. When sorcery touches the Crown, it is not merely scandal. It is a sickness at the heart.”[/color]

He turned slightly toward Edin, and the motion felt like devotion offered in public where it could be seen and repeated.

[color=47d8ff]“You have acted, Your Majesty,”[/color] he said, his voice becoming a moan of sorts. [color=47d8ff]“Swiftly. In accordance with divine order. And there will be those who hiss that this is cruelty, that the Queen’s chains are too heavy for a royal throat. But chains are mercy when the alternative is the realm’s collapse.”[/color]

He sat only after he had wrung the room dry of oxygen, and for a moment Edin seemed oddly satisfied, not because he enjoyed Laurent’s fervor, but because fervor was useful.

Edin slapped both hands flat on the table loudly. [color=DDB775]“So this is what will happen,”[/color] he said, and the words struck with the finality of an iron gate closing. [color=DDB775]“Auguste and Anastasia will undergo cleansing rites,”[/color] he said. [color=DDB775]“Publicly. Not because they are guilty, but because the realm must see that the Crown submits to correction. Caesonia will be reminded that the Danrose line does not hide from purity. Wulfric has proved himself with the sacrifice of his own mother for the greater good of this country, now the rest will prove their innocence. Prince Auguste’s line in succession will be suspended until the church’s review is complete.”[/color]

Wulfric’s expression did not change, but the tension in his jaw returned. Auguste’s eyes narrowed slightly, trying to consider what a “cleansing rite” meant in practice.  

[color=DDB775]“And Prince Callum,”[/color] he said, and the name landed with a weight that caught the attention of all, [color=DDB775]“will be located and then placed under the same review. The realm will not be allowed to imagine I have hidden him away like contraband.”[/color]

Nobody asked where Callum was; nobody wanted to ask why a prince could vanish in a palace that claimed divine favor.

[color=#c48f6a]“The city will need a single, clean conclusion,”[/color] Father Mathieu said softly. [color=#c48f6a]“And the tribunal will provide it. The Crown will be seen as purified. The Church will be seen as vigilant. The hunters will be seen as necessary.”[/color]

[color=DDB775]“Then we are agreed,”[/color] Edin said.

The Justicar inclined his head. [color=#7d8bb3]“So long as the king remembers,”[/color] he replied coldly, [color=#7d8bb3]“that purity is older than crowns.”[/color]

Edin’s smile did not reach his eyes.

The meeting ended with the slow scrape of chairs and the rustle of robes, with the sense that everyone had arrived expecting to leave having won something, and instead they were leaving with a sense of uncertainty.

Edin remained standing until the last of them had gone, gaze fixed on the shut doors as if he could force them to stay closed forever through will alone. Only when the chamber was finally his again did he look to his children, and the look was not tender.

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