"Now," Edgar began, his voice resonating through the hall, "as we gather here today, it is time to address the matter of Althea's ascension to Crown Princess. Are there any objections?"
A wave of agreement swept through the assembly like a well-rehearsed chorus. Heads nodded, voices murmured their approval, and even the most stoic faces showed subtle signs of support. The decision was unanimous—Althea was to become the Crown Princess.
Edgar wasn't very pleased with the response. He didn't want to hand over his legacy to one of his daughters, but he had no choice. His sons were, well, disappointments—the first one failed to hold onto the crown, the second one was recently crippled, and the youngest one was too soft and good-hearted.
"Very well," Edgar continued, maintaining a graceful mask. "Now we must decide the timing of the ascension ceremony," he asked, unaware that he was deciding his own time of doom.
