The expression of everyone in the hall shifted at once, as though a single wind of revelation had swept through their ranks.

The dukes and counts behind the thrones changed in slight anger. But it was upon the faces of those seated on the great stone thrones that the greatest change could be seen.

"We all know of the Abyss," Apollyon said at last, his voice rolling like iron dragged over stone.

His eyes, sharp and black as a raven's wing, flicked toward Asher, then to the emerald-haired giantess beside him.

His words carried disdain, but underneath, there was a current of caution. "We are all preparing for its inevitable strike. But the only weapon, the only thing that can give our armies the faintest chance at survival is the Mythril crystal mine. And if you do not split it among us…" He leaned forward ever so slightly, his shadow spilling across the floor. "…it will be taken."

Geriant did not look at Apollyon. His sharp features, usually cold and controlled, were softened in a way none in the hall had ever seen before.

His dark eyes were locked on Sapphira, not with fear or suspicion, but with something far heavier. Fatherly love, ancient and buried, burned within him, interwoven with anguish.

A century had passed since he had last seen her face, a face he had once cradled in his palm when she was no more than a fragile infant brought from her mother's womb. Even then, he had known she would be extraordinary.

Now, as he looked upon her towering, radiant form, beauty sculpted from divinity itself, that pride stabbed into him like a blade.

And with it came wrath. Wrath at the man beside her. Wrath at Asher who had claimed what should never have been his to claim.

"Fighting the Abyss as one…" Samson's deep voice cut through the storm of emotions. His tone was calm, level, but the rumble beneath it betrayed something more complex.

His great hands gripped the arms of his throne, knuckles whitening. "That is the reason you called us here?" His words seemed almost tired, as though he had hoped, expected, something more than the endless circle of strategy and bickering.

A faint trace of disappointment clung to his voice.

That was what Geriant heard, what they all heard, before Sapphira's voice rose once again. Her tone was calm, as though the earth itself spoke through her lips.

"Undoubtedly," she said, emerald eyes sweeping the hall with regal poise, "we shall ensure that every army receives a portion of the Mythril dust. Enough to shield them, enough to let them fight. But understand this, the true reason for this gathering is beyond crystal and steel."

The silence deepened, taut as a bowstring, before she continued.

"We have learned that Malrath is no king." Her voice rang, echoing across the cracked stone walls. "The Abyss has no king. It has a queen. Malrath, the one you fear, the butcher who has devoured nations in past eras, is but her general."

Gasps swept like wildfire through the hall. The vassals in the back clutched at their weapons, some muttering prayers, others paling as though a phantom hand had closed around their throats. The great lords and ladies themselves stiffened, disbelief carved into their features as though struck with a chisel.

"I am Tenaria," Sapphira declared, her voice rising with a power that vibrated through the floor. Dust trembled down from the cracked ceiling as the roots of her throne pulsed and spread further. "The land on which your Strongholds and your cities stand. Your fields, your rivers, your mountains, they are mine. I am the flesh beneath your walls, the bones that hold your towers. I have no reason to share false news."

The hall broke into turmoil. Gasps rose louder, voices overlapping in disbelief, in denial, in half-choked fear.

Morgana blinked rapidly, her eyes wide as her lips parted in silence. Her heart hammered as though trying to tear free from her chest. Artemis, beside her, did not gasp or flinch, but her stare sharpened to a blade, her piercing eyes locked onto Sapphira with such intensity it seemed they might cleave through her skin.

Vladimir, the Archduke of Nubis, who always spoke with the confidence of one who already knew tomorrow's truth, sat frozen. His lips parted, his eyes wide, like a man watching the world he thought he understood crumble into dust.

He had believed himself one step ahead, prepared for every secret. But this? This left even him unmoored.

Sapphira. Their continent. Their land. The foundation of their very existence, here, in flesh and blood, as Asher's wife.

The realization struck like a hammer blow to the skull.

And if she was Asher's wife… then by the ancient laws, by the very bedrock of their traditions, her husband was lord over her. Lord over Tenaria itself.

The thought seared through the minds of every ruler present. Judging by their shifting gazes, their faces, the tension coiled in their jaws, they had all reached the same conclusion.

Asher was not merely a lord. Not merely a warrior. He was the rightful master of the very continent beneath their feet.

A malicious gleam flashed through Apollyon's storm-gray eyes, a glimmer of hunger wrapped in wrath, as though he had just been handed both temptation and insult in the same breath.

Geriant's face, froze.

Samson, broad and towering upon his throne, seemed carved of iron restraint, yet beneath the surface the heat of his fury smoldered. His chest rose and fell heavily, his massive hands flexing on the throne's arms as if each finger longed to curl into a fist. It was clear, he fought to master himself, to keep from exploding at the sight of Tenaria herself bound to a mortal of flesh and bone.

"Why," Samson's voice rumbled like a forge about to erupt, "have I Am not nullified this?" His words carried weight, his fury tightly reined in, but every syllable rang with strain, like an earthquake held back by the thinnest dam.

Sapphira's eyes, turned to him. Her emerald gaze cut through his anger with calm certainty. "Because he allowed it."

A ripple went through the hall, gasps, sharp intakes of breath, vassals shifting uneasily as though the stone beneath their feet had betrayed them.

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