Chapter 122: A Formal Apology To The Duchess.

Chapter 122

The throne room of the Royal Palace echoed with a deafening cacophony of raised voices, furious arguments, and anxious whispers that bounced off the tall marble pillars. Banners of the realm hung heavy from the vaulted ceiling, casting long shadows over the gathered sea of noblemen, ministers, and court officials who waved their arms in frantic distress. Seated high upon the gilded dais, King Reginald rested his temple against his palm, deep lines of exhaustion and worry carved into his weathered face as he stared down at the chaos unfolding below.

The relentless noise thrummed against his skull, showing no sign of abating despite the guards standing rigid at the perimeter. Sensing the sovereign’s mounting distress, the King’s chief aide stepped forward to the edge of the platform, letting out a sharp, resonant cough that rang through the hall. "Settle down!" the aide proclaimed, his voice cutting cleanly through the clamor. "Order in the presence of His Majesty!"

Slowly, the wild shouting receded into a tense, murmuring quiet, though the heavy gloom filling the vast chamber remained unbroken. King Reginald lowered his hand, letting out a long, weary sigh that seemed to draw the remaining air from his chest before he addressed the sea of aristocrats. "My lords and noblemen," the King spoke, his voice grave and solemn, "I understand your immense frustration regarding the recent turn of events, but you must remain steady. Chaos within these walls shall only invite further ruin upon the realm."

Before the King could finish his thought, a prominent earl stepped out from the crowd, his silk robes rustling loudly as he gestured wildly toward the center of the hall. "My Majesty, the court is in utter shambles!" A Count declared passionately, his face flushed with indignation. "The Crown Prince has trampled upon the dignity, honor, and prestige of the monarchy itself! Across every province and district, the common folk and high nobility alike whisper that neither Crown Princess Maria nor Prince Ragnar possess the restraint or wisdom to govern this kingdom in the future! Our standing is ruined!"

A second noble moved forward, his hands trembling with visible anxiety as he chimed in. "And for some baffling reason, the outrage shows no sign of dying down, Your Majesty! It has been three full days since those cursed gazettes were published, and everywhere I turn, their royal names remain laced with thick venom! What are we to do?"

King Reginald raised a hand, attempting to maintain a facade of calm authority as he leaned back against the red velvet cushions of his throne. "Everything shall be stabilized in due time. It has been merely three days; we must grant the populace time to exhaust their fervor."

His measured tone, however, failed to appease the room, prompting a third minister to scoff openly. "How could the Crown Prince prove so foolish as to yield to the whims of a girl who lacked even the discipline to attend the royal academy?" The minister paused, turning his head sharply toward the far side of the hall, where Duke Vesper stood isolated, his face burning a deep, humiliated crimson.

A wave of harsh whispers erupted as the noblemen directed their cold gazettes toward the withered duke. "To think he harbored grand ambitions of aligning his house with the bloodline of royalty, when his commoner-bred step daughter serves as the very catalyst for this catastrophe. And to think his true, noble-born daughter was made the victim of such petulance! How entirely foolish!"

Duke Vesper pulled his heavy cloak tighter around his shoulders, attempting to shrink beneath the crushing weight of the court’s collective scorn, but the disdainful glances and venomous murmurs followed his every breath.

Another elder statesman stepped forward, slamming his ceremonial staff against the marble floor to draw attention. "Something decisive must be executed at once! No scandal of such catastrophic magnitude has ever plagued this monarchy before, and Your Majesty possesses no other legitimate son to quell the succession crisis!"

The words had barely left his lips when Queen Evelyn, who had been sitting beside the King silently gnawing at her nails in a violent mix of rage and anxiety, snapped. Her face twisted into a mask of pure malice as she rose from her seat, her silk gown rustling violently. "Do not dare spout such outrageous foolishness, lest you desire your treacherous tongue severed from your mouth!" she shrieked, her voice echoing off the stone walls with terrifying intensity. The elder statesman gasped, shrinking back into the safety of the crowd as the Queen glared at him with murderous intent.

King Reginald stood up immediately, resting a firm hand upon his wife’s trembling shoulder. "Calm yourself, my Queen," he urged in a low, warning tone.

Queen Evelyn whipped her head toward her husband before turning her scorching gaze back upon the assembled nobles, barking at them like a cornered beast. "How dare you bring down my son over a single, minor oversight when every man standing in this room has committed a million far greater atrocities! Ragnar is my only son, the true heir, and he shall inherit this throne regardless of your petty grievances! You may sit there in your comfortable robes and berate him today, but he will rule over every last one of you as King!"

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the court in the wake of her outburst, broken suddenly by a low, mocking laugh rising from the shadowy far corner of the chamber. An ancient, white-haired duke leaned against a marble pillar, a cruel smirk resting upon his weathered lips as he looked at the royal pair. "Fools," the old man drawled, his raspy voice carrying easily across the silent hall. "If only His Majesty had possessed the elementary sense to take a secondary wife years ago, our kingdom would not be hanging by such a fragile thread today."

Queen Evelyn’s jaw tightened so violently her teeth ground together, her eyes widening in fury, but before she could order his arrest, the old duke dismissed her with a wave of his frail hand. "I shall leave you blind fools to wallow in your own self-inflicted nonsense," he continued smoothly, turning toward the heavy exit doors. "The path to resolving this disaster is extraordinarily simple, yet none of you possess the courage to see it. You must either replace that useless prince, strip the titles from that moronic crown princess, or issue a formal, public apology to the Duchess of Aethermor."

As the old duke slipped past the heavy iron doors, his parting words ignited an immediate, uncontrollable uproar throughout the entire chamber. Noblemen nodded fiercely, shouting over one another as consensus swept through the room. "He speaks the truth! If the Crown Prince and Princess issue a public apology, the scandal will lose its bite! The populace will be appeased!"

King Reginald closed his eyes briefly, weighing the humiliation of the crown against the total collapse of his authority. Opening them, he raised his voice above the noise. "Very well! It shall be done!"

Queen Evelyn froze, her face draining of all color as she gasped, "What?!"

Ignoring her, the King turned directly to his chief aide, his voice firm and absolute. "Dispatch an official missive to Duchess Sigrid Aethermor at once. Inform her that a formal, public apology shall be conducted in her honor here at the royal palace in two weeks’ time. Furthermore, ensure that every major gazette in the realm is informed of this decree immediately. That ought to halt the prince’s name from being dragged through the gutters any further."

The chief aide bowed deeply, pulling a leather binder to his chest. "It shall be executed precisely as you command, Your Majesty."

King Reginald turned his exhausted eyes back toward the crowd of noblemen, his posture stiff. "Are you satisfied, my lords?" Receiving a chorus of quiet bows and assenting mutters, the King raised his hand. "You are all dismissed."

The noblemen filed out of the throne room in hushed, hurried groups, leaving the grand hall empty save for the royal couple and their guards. As the heavy doors groaned shut, King Reginald sank back onto the golden throne, letting out a deep sigh as he rested his head against the backrest.

The silence, however, was shattered instantly by the sharp, terrifying snarl of Queen Evelyn. She stepped into his line of sight, her fingers curled into trembling claws as she glared down at her husband with absolute rage. "How could you let this happen?!" she screamed, her voice shaking the empty hall. "How could you force our son—the future King—to bow his head before that cold, calculating creature?!"