Chapter 158 The Measure of a King pt 2
Gideon
And finally, Elder Alaric Thornvale adjusted the spectacles perched low on his nose, already holding a slim leather folio beneath one arm. Of course he was. “The council chamber is prepared,” Cassian said. “Shall we?” He held out his arm toward the conference rooms I knew were down the left hall.
‘I suppose just calling it a conference room wasn’t official enough for them,’ I said to Curran, sarcasm lacing my tone. Just this brief interaction made me grateful that I’d left Cora at Crescent Moon.
‘They will change their tone before we leave, or I will make them,’ he growled back, his displeasure at the subtle disrespect clear.
The conference rooms hadn’t changed much since Blood Moon’s fall. The one they’d chosen as their council chamber was the largest. A long oak table dominated the center of the room, polished to a dark sheen. Five high-backed chairs lined one side. A single chair sat opposite them.
Single. Not at the head. Opposite. I paused just long enough to register it.
Cassian gestured smoothly toward the lone seat. “Please, Your Highness.”
It was subtle. Deliberate in a way that I couldn’t write off as elders who simply couldn’t make the distinction between the prince who’d roamed the halls as a child and the prince who would take the throne within the next few years.
The High Elder took the central chair along the far side, Theodora to his right, Severin to his left. Marcelline and Alaric filled the remaining positions without a word.
I took the offered chair without comment. If they expected irritation, they wouldn’t get it. Let them truly see who I’d become.
Alaric opened his folio immediately. “For clarity of record,” he began, not looking at me, “this is a provisional governance review of the former Blood Moon territory under royal stewardship, pending permanent structural appointment.”
Cassian folded his hands on the table. “Your presence is appreciated.”
Yet another subtle dig that had Curran stand up in my mind and start pacing. Appreciated, but not required, as if the royals—and especially me—were unnecessary to the transition process of a territory that we had taken over.
“His Majesty was unable to attend?” Theodora asked lightly, adjusting her gloves as if the question had just occurred to her.
I met her gaze. “The King entrusted this review to me.”
A brief silence followed. Marcelline’s brow lifted just slightly. Severin’s eyes sharpened. Alaric paused his pen. Cassian did not react at all.
“How…progressive,” Marcelline murmured.
Severin leaned back slightly in his chair. “Given the fragility of this territory and the situation that was found here, one might assume His Majesty would prefer to oversee matters personally.”
“He will arrive sometime prior to the tournament’s start,” I replied evenly. “Today’s assessment is mine.”
Chairs creaked as several of the elders shifted in their seats. I continued to maintain a pleasant, relaxed expression even as my irritation grew along with Curran’s.
Alaric cleared his throat. “Historically, transitional territories of this magnitude are supervised directly by the reigning monarch until stability metrics reach acceptable thresholds.”
“Historically,” I said calmly, “territories that fell to this degree were not led by the royals who personally dismantled the corruption.”
Severin’s jaw ticked. Cassian’s fingers tapped once against the table. A quiet call to order.
“And you believe,” Cassian said, voice smooth as still water, “that dismantling corruption and sustaining governance require the same skill set?”
A glimmer of understanding struck then. They doubted me, my capabilities, despite my father sending me here in obvious support. I leaned forward slightly, resting my forearms on the table, mirroring Severin’s posture from earlier.
“I believe that if I am to inherit a kingdom, I should not do so from a distance.”
Silence fell again, though this one felt heavier. Theodora studied me with new interest. Marcelline stopped smiling. Alaric’s pen stilled. Cassian held my gaze for several long seconds before inclining his head a fraction deeper than before.
“Very well, Prince Gideon,” he said quietly. “Let us begin.”
Alaric rattled off data about the structural changes around the pack—the repairs, the costs of the repairs, how many we employed from the royal pack to come and make the repairs—until I thought my ears would bleed. Marcelline picked up that thread, taking it further to outline the costs of the tournament, the efforts of building the tournament grounds out, and how much work it had been to clear space for guest accommodations. She was droning on about tents and catering fees when I shifted forward in my chair, folding my hands in front of me. “Enough.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m sorry?”
“I said enough.” My tone was calm but firm. “I’ve heard the costs. I’ve heard the labor reports. I’ve heard the infrastructure changes. But what I haven’t heard is a single statement about the effort you’re putting into the people here.” I let my gaze sweep across all five of them. “The people of Blood Moon were rescued from a horrible situation. They were abused—systematically—for years. Then they survived a battle fought on their behalf. And not once have you mentioned how they’re healing.” My voice hardened a fraction. “Where are the healers? The counselors? The trauma support?”
Alaric blinked. Marcelline’s fingers tightened on the edge of her folio.
“Have additional medical teams been brought in?” I pressed. “Are omegas being evaluated for long-term psychological harm? Are the children being monitored for stress fractures in their bonds? Or are we content that fresh paint and tournament banners will convince them they are safe?”
They all looked at me, completely dumbfounded. Eventually, Cassian spoke. “Prince Gideon. Your father placed us here to repair the pack. That’s what we’ve been doing.”
“My father placed you here to lead the remaining pack while it was in transition.” I rose slowly to my feet. Chairs creaked as, one by one, the elders followed. “Leading is not restoring buildings. It is restoring trust. We serve the people—not the stone beneath their feet. If you haven’t been doing that, then you’ve failed at your task. I expect a full report on how you’ve assisted the survivors of this pack when I get back from running with the evening patrol.”
Cassian bowed his head, a direct contrast to his greeting when I arrived. “Of course, Your Highness.”
With that, I dismissed them and walked out. Despite the urge to slam it, I closed the door quietly. Let them stew over that. I needed to go check on the borders.