Chapter 83 Theron POV
Chapter 83 Theron POV
Theron
The argument is already underway when I enter the throne room. Voices echo off the walls. Nobles stand in clusters across the chamber instead of sitting in their assigned seats. Several council members are speaking at once. Others have abandoned any attempt at decorum entirely. The double doors close behind me with a heavy boom and the room falls silent. A few muttered conversations continue for another second before dying beneath the weight of everyone's attention.
I walk toward the throne without rushing. Without apologizing. Without acknowledging the tension hanging over the room. I know exactly why they are here. The restoration order was delivered before dawn. Half the kingdom has probably heard about it by now. I take my seat, but nobody else sits. Sir Roland Whitmore steps forward first and I'm not surprised. The man has never met a financial decision he didn't want to dissect.
“Your Majesty,” he says. “Is it true you have authorized the return of Moonstone territory without a council vote?”
Straight to the point.
“Yes.”
The answer lands like a stone dropped into still water. Murmurs ripple through the chamber immediately. Whitmore looks no happier than he did before asking.
“I see," he says, his jaw tightening. Around him, several nobles exchange glances. Sir Gregory Ashcombe is the next to speak.
“Your Majesty, regardless of anyone's feelings regarding Moonstone, this decision affects multiple regions, multiple governing bodies, and significant amounts of kingdom funding.” Ashcombe worships procedure the way some men worship the Goddess. “There should have been hearings.”
“Why?”
The question catches him off guard.
“Because that is how governance functions.”
“Governance functions by solving problems.”
Ashcombe's expression hardens.
“Governance also functions through proper review.”
“Review would not change the facts.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. Across the chamber, Sir Edwin Hawthorne folds his arms.
“The issue isn't merely funding or procedure.” Of course it isn't. Hawthorne cares about stability above all else. "The borders have existed for eighteen years.Neighboring packs have organized patrol routes, trade agreements, and territorial enforcement around those boundaries. Restoring Moonstone means rewriting arrangements that have existed for nearly two decades."
“A consequence of a mistake lasting eighteen years does not make it less of a mistake.”
Several nobles shift uncomfortably because they know exactly what I mean. They were here. Not all of them. But enough. Enough to remember. Sir Benedict Carrington speaks next. Unlike the others, his concern isn't power. It's people.
“Your Majesty, reports indicate civilians occupy portions of the disputed territory.”
“Correct.”
“Families.”
“Yes.”
“Children.”
I nod once.
Carrington exhales.
“Then what happens to them?”
It's a fair question. One of the first fair questions asked this morning.
“Those without blood on their hands will be given options.” The room quiets slightly and I continue. “They may remain and swear loyalty to Moonstone.” A few eyebrows rise. “They may relocate under Crown protection.” More murmurs. “Or they may leave and seek another pack.” Carrington studies me carefully.
“I assume you have already discussed this with Alpha Voss.”
“Yes.”
That answer creates another wave of whispers. Let them. Eighteen years ago, I made decisions none of them stopped. Sir Malcolm Holloway finally steps forward. I have been waiting for him because unlike the others, Holloway is not worried about money, borders, or procedure. He's afraid and fear has always been more dangerous than greed.
“With respect, Your Majesty,” he says, “Moonstone did not return as it left.” There it is. The room grows still and Holloway continues. “Their warriors survived conditions that should have destroyed them.” Nobody interrupts. “They spent eighteen years exposed to lunar energy.” Still nobody speaks. “Their Alpha led a pack through a realm that should not have sustained life.” His gaze lifts toward mine. “The Scarlet Luna closed a fracture between worlds.” Silence. The words linger in the room. Not because they are false, but because they are true. Holloway folds his hands behind his back. “Surely I am not the only person concerned about what that means.” There is the real problem they are here to confront. It has nothing to territory or funding. It's about fear and power. The room waits for my response, but instead I ask a question of my own.
“What exactly are you afraid of, Sir Malcolm?” His eyes narrow slightly.
“I am afraid of creating a balance of power the kingdom cannot control.”
Finally someone gives an honest answer. There is no hatred or prejudice. Just fear and that is the same disease that poisoned this kingdom eighteen years ago. The exact thing that created the situation we are in. I lean back slightly.
“Moonstone survived eighteen years without the kingdom.”
The room goes quiet and Holloway's expression tightens.
“That is not the argument you think it is.”
Nobody moves. Nobody speaks. Suddenly everyone understands what sits beneath those words. We turned against them and they survived anyway. The doors open before anyone can respond. Every head turns. A royal guard enters carrying a stack of folders. The guard approaches the throne and places the folders before me.
“Reports from the survey team, Your Majesty," he says and I nod once.
“Distribute them.”
The room watches curiously as guards begin moving from noble to noble. Papers change hands. Maps unfold. Photographs appear. The first few moments pass in silence then the expressions start changing. Confusion. Discomfort. Shock. Sir Roland Whitmore is the first to speak.
“What is this?”
“Ashwood occupation.”
His eyes return to the photographs. One image shows the painted-over Moonstone crest. Another shows renamed roads. Another shows Ashwood checkpoints. Another shows occupied settlements. The room grows steadily quieter. Now they are finally looking at reality instead of speculation. Sir Edwin Hawthorne studies one photograph for a long moment.
“Ashwood is still actively operating inside those territories.”
“Yes.”
Hawthorne's expression darkens.
“They fortified positions.”
“Yes.”
Another silence settles over the chamber. Different this time. More dangerous because the discussion has changed. This is no longer a theoretical debate about historical grievances.
Armed forces occupy kingdom territory. Sir Gregory Ashcombe closes his folder.
“We should send a formal demand.”
“A demand has already been sent.”
Several heads snap toward me and I almost smile.
“Through whom?”
“Alpha Voss.”
The room somehow becomes even quieter. Good. Let them imagine how that conversation went. Sir Benedict Carrington lowers one of the photographs slowly.
“They carved away the crest.”
His voice sounds almost distant. I glance toward the image. The damaged tower. The gouged stone. The deliberate erasure. Nobody says anything after that. For several moments, the only sound comes from pages turning. Finally, I rise. Every noble immediately falls silent.
“I understand your concerns," I say and some appear surprised by that. Others suspicious. “I understand the cost.” My gaze moves across the room. “The funding.” Whitmore. “The borders.” Hawthorne. “The procedures.” Ashcombe. “The civilians.” Carrington. “The fear.” Holloway. Each man holds my gaze as I speak then I let the silence stretch before speaking again. “Eighteen years ago, I aided in a conspiracy that helped erase Moonstone from the map.” Nobody moves. Nobody interrupts. “I will spend the rest of my life carrying responsibility for that decision.” The words settle heavily across the room. “You all have the right to disagree with me if you so choose," I state as I reach for the restoration decree resting beside the throne. “But this decision has already been made.” Every eye follows the document. The royal seal gleams in the morning light. I sign it slowly and deliberately. The scratch of the pen seems impossibly loud inside the room then I set it down. “The kingdom helped take Moonstone's home." My gaze sweeps across the council. “The kingdom will help restore it.”
Whether they approve of it or not, Moonstone is returning to their packlands. Moonstone will rebuild their pack. Silence follows. No arguments. No interruptions. No protests. Just the weight of a decision that cannot be undone. Moonstone will exist on the map again and this time, the Crown will help build it instead of bury it. And there isn't a soul in this room powerful enough to stop it.