Ren’s calm, measured gaze swept across the room, lingering on both Hazel and Fretia. They had barely settled into their seats when he spoke, his voice even but filled with quiet intensity.

"I’ve made a decision," he began, folding his hands in front of him, "to reshape the senate. It will now be divided into two divisions.”

Hazel’s eyes widened slightly, curiosity mingling with surprise. Fretia, on the other hand, stiffened, her fingers tightening over the armrests of her chair.

“The first,” Ren continued, “will be a smaller division made up of the nobility—a kind of Minor Senate. Their role will be symbolic, to lend a semblance of power to my rule. I want you both to help me identify the heads of families who were loyal to the old royal family. I need to be sure they would never have supported the assassination attempt."

He paused, letting the words sink in. Hazel’s brow furrowed as she considered what he was asking, but Fretia’s expression hardened, her lips thinning into a line of disapproval.

“What about the second division?” Hazel asked, though she had a sense she already knew the answer.

Ren’s gaze flickered to her, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“The second division will be composed of commoners. Talented men and women who, for too long, have been denied the chance to contribute to the governance of Aropia. Their potential has been wasted, buried beneath centuries of tradition that favor only the nobles.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and Hazel’s heart swelled with a surge of pride and agreement. This was what she had hoped for—a chance to break free from the past and build something new.

“I think it’s brilliant,” she said softly, her eyes gleaming with approval.

Ren nodded in acknowledgment, but his attention shifted to Fretia, whose face had grown pale.

“It won’t be easy,” he said, his tone gentler. “Aropia’s history is steeped in noble rule, and there will be backlash—severe backlash. The Minor Senate must back my decision, or we risk a revolt.”

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Fretia’s voice was tense, almost trembling.

“This... this is dangerous, Ren,” she said, shaking her head. “You are talking about tearing down the very foundations of our nation’s traditions. Aropia has always been governed by the nobility—people of blood and heritage who have guided us for generations. To hand power to commoners... it goes against everything we know.”

“It goes against everything you know,” Hazel interrupted, her tone firm but gentle. “But Mother, please understand , things have to change. We can’t keep clinging to the past and expect anything to get better.”

Fretia’s gaze shifted sharply to Hazel, a flicker of hurt flashing in her eyes.

“You speak as if our traditions are meaningless,” she said quietly. “As if the legacy your father left behind means nothing.”

Hazel hesitated, the mention of her father striking a chord, but she straightened, her voice unyielding.

“Our traditions have value, but they’ve also held us back. I’m not saying we should abandon them, only that we make room for something more—something that can lead us forward.”

Ren watched them both, his face unreadable, but when he spoke, his voice was firm.

“Fretia, I respect the old ways. I understand their importance, but there are brilliant minds among the common people, talents that have been wasted for too long. If Aropia is to survive the changing world, we must embrace them, not shun them.”

Fretia’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she said nothing. The silence stretched, filled with the weight of her resistance and Hazel’s quiet plea. Finally, she let out a slow breath, the fight in her eyes dimming, replaced by a deep uncertainty.

“And what if they fail?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper. “What if you’re wrong, Ren? What if the common people don’t have what it takes to rule?”

“Then it will be my failure,” Ren replied, his voice calm and sure.

“But I’m willing to take that risk, because I believe in their potential. I believe in Aropia’s future—our future. I’m asking for your help because I need your wisdom, your experience, to make this transition smoother. This isn’t about throwing away the old; it’s about adding something new, something necessary.”

Fretia’s eyes searched his, as if trying to find some sign of doubt, some hesitation, but she found none. Her fingers loosened their grip on the armrests, and she sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.

“You are asking me to trust commoners with everything we’ve built, with everything we are,” she said slowly, almost bitterly.

“No,” Hazel said softly, reaching out to touch her mother’s arm. “He’s asking us to trust him to build something better. And I believe he can.”