Page 90 of The War of Four Winters

"House Stoneriver votes Nay."

A murmur rippled through the gallery, quickly silenced by the Herald's staff. The pattern was clear now. Traditional houses aligned with Tarathiel voting for conviction, those sympathetic to my cause voting for acquittal. But simple mathematics still placed me at a disadvantage. I needed at least seven votes for acquittal to claim victory.

"House Craiggybottom votes Nay," declared Captain Seagrave, standing proud in her merchant clan's distinctive indigo robes.

"House Northfire votes Nay."

Three votes for acquittal. The tension in the chamber increased visibly with each declaration.

"House Wolfheart," Lady Miriel announced, rising with the distinctive silver-white hair of her clan, "votes Nay."

Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the chamber's entrance. The massive bronze doors swung open to admit a small delegation led by a familiar figure with golden curls.

The Herald's staff struck stone. "Who dares disturb the Assembly proceedings?"

Katyr stepped forward, his bearing regal despite travel-stained clothing. "I am Katyr Runecleaver, the rightful head of House Runecleaver, following Matriarch Vinolia's... departure. I have appointed General Niro as my clan's representative in this Assembly."

"I protest!" Vinolia's appointed representative cried, rising from the Runecleaver seat. "This is outrageous! There has been no formal recognition of succession!"

Katyr held up a document bearing official seals. "The succession documents were filed with the Assembly archives upon my arrival this morning. By ancient law, I claim my rightful place as clan head and name General Niro as our voice in these proceedings."

The Herald examined the documents with obvious reluctance, then nodded slowly. "The documents appear properly executed. By Assembly law, the rightful clan head may appoint their chosen representative at any time."

The elderly elf descended from the Runecleaver seat, fury evident in every line of his body. Niro ascended with calm dignity, taking his place among the representatives. His eyes met mine briefly, conveying silent reassurance.

"The vote will continue," the Herald declared after restoring order. "House Runecleaver, you may cast your vote."

Niro rose. "House Runecleaver votes Nay."

"House Redrock, how do you vote?" the Herald asked.

Lady Sariel rose, the morning light catching on the Rivers Circlet adorning her brow. "House Redrock has always valued ancient traditions. The sacred hunt. The rites of kingship that predate even this Assembly." Her copper ringed eyes swept the chamber. "Ruith Starfall has fulfilled these sacred requirements. He has walked the path our ancestors recognized as divine blessing. House Redrock votes Nay."

The gallery erupted in whispers. Only the vacant Duskfell seat remained, and Tarathiel could claim they voted in absentia however he chose.

"House Duskfell has no appointed representative," the Herald began, "the Primarch shall speak for—"

"House Duskfell has a representative." The voice came from the entrance, where another figure moved forward.

Aryn.

He approached the Assembly floor. The Herald began to object, but Aryn presented a scroll bearing the distinctive black wax seal of House Duskfell.

"I am Aryn, appointed representative of House Duskfell by right of marriage to Daraith Duskfell, the last living heir of the bloodline. Our appointment was properly filed with the Assembly archives this morning."

The Herald examined the documents. After a moment, he nodded reluctantly. "The documents appear in order. House Duskfell may cast its vote."

Aryn ascended to the vacant seat that had stood empty since the massacre of Daraith's family. He settled into it with the natural grace of someone claiming what was rightfully theirs.

"House Duskfell," he declared, his voice echoing through the suddenly silent chamber, "votes Nay."

Seven votes for acquittal. Five for conviction. I had won.

Relief flooded my body, and I fought the urge to sag, or fall to my knees and whisper a prayer of thanks.

For a moment, no one moved. The mathematics were clear, the outcome unprecedented. The Assembly had voted against the Primarch's wishes, undermining his authority in the most public manner possible.

Then the gallery erupted in chaos, nobles and officials alike unable to contain their reactions to this historic moment. The Herald's staff struck stone repeatedly, struggling to restore order.

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