At the center of the room was a throne-like chair—a seat of honor, meant for the senate majority leader, a symbol of power that paled only in comparison to the king’s.

As Antony stared at it, his ambition burned hotter.

That seat was a stepping stone, a temporary throne he intended to surpass. Supreme ruler of Aropia—that was his vision. But his plans were unraveling faster than he could grasp.

The imminent arrival of Princess Hazel and her growing support threatened to shatter everything he had worked for. If she reached the capital with Ren’s army and won the people’s loyalty, his dreams of ultimate power would crumble, perhaps even end with his head on a spike.

He felt a rare flicker of doubt creep into his chest, but he stamped it down with ruthless determination.

The solution was clear to him: he needed to silence her support before it rallied the people further. But time was slipping, each second bringing her closer, eroding his control over the city and the senate.

As Antony took his place, the murmurs among the senators rose, filling the room with a chaotic hum. He could sense their fear, their indecision, and it gnawed at him, fraying his own carefully contained composure.

"Senators, take your seats and let us begin," the Speaker announced as Antony settled in.

Lucius Antony, like Ren, was hard to read. Having climbed the ranks through military triumphs, he wore an unyielding smile, ever ready to seize upon his enemies' mistakes, crushing them when they faltered.

This was the same tactic he intended to use against the princess. Knowing her inexperience in political affairs, he believed it would only take a few missteps for her to grant him the opening he needed to eliminate her influence entirely. For his dealings with the Drakonians to succeed, she had to be completely removed from the picture.

The first senator rose to present his motion. "I propose that this senate declare Princess Hazel Cheryat a traitor to the crown, to the nation, and to the people of Aropia. She should be legally barred from entering the capital, Ropa, and met with the full force of the national army should she defy this decree."

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"The motion is on the floor. Are there any who wish to challenge it?" the Speaker asked, allowing the senator's words to settle over the room.

Murmurs rippled through the chamber as senators conferred quietly, weighing their options. Those loyal to the royal family found themselves facing a grave dilemma. Opposing Antony came at a steep cost; senators who defied him had a tendency to disappear, their bodies discovered in the country's most remote corners.

With his military command, Antony had an edge. While others relied on mercenary forces, Antony wielded ten legions of the national army, along with significant wealth and influence, giving him a stranglehold on power that had gone unchallenged even under Hazel's father.

"Is there truly no one who wishes to speak?" the Speaker called again, breaking the tense silence. "This is the final call. If no objections are raised, the motion to declare Princess Hazel Cheryat a traitor will proceed with unanimous consent and hold as law until such time as the senate sees fit to amend it."

Lucius Antony cleared his throat. “I challenge the motion.”

A stunned silence fell over the chamber, quickly giving way to a storm of whispers and raised eyebrows. The senators were visibly caught off guard, their expressions a mix of relief, disbelief, and outright confusion.

Those loyal to the princess breathed a quiet sigh, while Antony’s usual supporters were left grasping for answers, exchanging uncertain glances. They had come expecting Antony to finally rid himself of the young princess, supporting a motion that would bar her from the capital and make her politically irrelevant. Yet here he was, doing the opposite.

“This senate,” Antony continued, his calm voice cutting through the unsettled air, “holds the sacred responsibility of representing the people’s wishes in government. And right now, I believe the people want to see the crown and the senate united, working together for a stronger Aropia.”

Silence settled once more, as senators wrestled with Antony's motives.

To oppose him could be dangerous, yet many still doubted his intentions. Was this a ploy, some complex strategy, or a genuine shift in stance? Could he be attempting to lure the princess and Ren into a false sense of security, or was he angling for a more subtle form of control?

“Now,” Antony continued smoothly, “those who share my view, please make it known by raising your hands.”

After a moment's hesitation, hands started to go up slowly across the room, one by one, as senators calculated their options, uncertain but unwilling to openly resist Antony.

Many feared they were being cornered into a single choice, yet they took a degree of comfort in aligning with a decision endorsed by Antony himself—an assurance, however thin, of survival.

The Speaker, sensing the tension, finally intervened. “The motion is dismissed. Let the senate move on to other matters.”

But as the murmurs lingered, it was clear that Antony's unexpected maneuver had left the senate wary and on edge.