The palace echoed with quiet as Damien walked through its grand halls, his steel-gray eyes fixed ahead. Despite the capture of the remaining conspirators, the weight of the rebellion still hung heavy on his shoulders. Winter's Crown was safe, but the kingdom's fractures remained visible, jagged cracks that no single victory could mend.
In the council chamber, the king waited alongside Lady Erynn. The room, once filled with the contentious voices of the nobles, now felt hollow and subdued.
"Damien," the king said, his voice steady but weary. "The court owes you a great debt. Without your efforts, this kingdom might have fallen."
Damien nodded, though his expression remained grim. "We've quelled the rebellion, Your Grace, but the court's trust is still fragile. The nobles resent the reforms, and the people are watching our every move. We can't afford to falter now."
