Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 411: Noble Alliance.

Vel'Haran, Hall of Broken Seasons...

Depths of Sylvandor, two days after the closing of Gal'Shanai

The hall was immersed in golden shadows, lit only by the living sap lamps, which seemed to hesitate to shine fully - as if they felt the weight of the words spoken inside. The ceiling of intertwined branches formed a kind of natural dome, and the enchanted stained glass windows showed ancient scenes of the pact between the Queen and the Forest - scenes that, to the nobles gathered there, seemed more like myth than living memory.

Lord Faeron Vel'Aeth paced back and forth in front of the assembly of dissident leaders. His clear, almost silver eyes were filled with unease.

"The Palace of Gal'Shanai is closed. No one goes in. No one is going out. The messengers have been arrested. The portals have been sealed," he said, his voice firm but restrained. "The only thing we know for sure is that Evelyn has entered - and by right, is taking over as Queen Regent."

Murmurs ran through the hall, and an old advisor - Lady Irhena, of House Sen'Narel - leaned forward, her long eyebrows arched with suspicion.

"Evelyn was considered a deserter. She's back... and suddenly, the kingdom's army starts moving? The palace is sealed off? Don't you think it's too convenient for the council to accept her as the new Queen?"

"Convenient... or rehearsed," muttered another nobleman.

"Evelyn never took part in the formal rites of succession," said Faeron, turning to the central table. "She rejected the royal blood for years. She refused the gifts of the forest, refused the advice of the Parliament of Leaves. Now she just shows up and... declares herself Queen?"

"But not officially," corrected Lady Irhena. "No pronouncement. No audience. Just... silence. And walls erected."

"The silence is more deafening than any shout," commented Lord Teryn, one of the commanders of the dissident troops in Eltharia. "The Queen's Guard patrols are doubling. In the satellite towns, nobles have been 'advised' not to approach. A guard told me that Gal'Shanai is being protected as if they were expecting... a siege."

"They expect an attack," said Faeron, crossing his arms. "That's the most alarming thing. Evelyn behaves like someone under siege. Like someone under siege. But no one has threatened her. We just question the silence. The absence. Queen Frieren's abandonment."

"If there's no coup, why do you treat us like enemies?" hissed Irhena.

"Because maybe we're too right," replied Faeron. "The forest withers. The spirits are silent. The old pacts seem broken. The people are afraid - not of the rebels - but of the palace itself."

A heavy silence fell over the hall. The feeling was almost suffocating.

It was then that the youngest among them, Lord Elven Mirdhael, spoke up, his voice still laden with a fragile hope.

"What if we're wrong? What if Evelyn is trying to... protect her mother? Or to contain something bigger?"

Faeron stared at him, his eyes hard. "And if she was, why didn't she tell us? Why didn't she summon the representatives of the houses? Why ignore the traditions? Why the silence, if there's nothing to fear?"

And then he added, in a more serious tone:

"Because where there is silence... there is power being consolidated. And where there is fear... there is tyranny disguised as protection."

Some nodded in silence. Others remained restless.

Faeron walked to the center of the hall, where the ancient relic rested - the Orb of Vun'thel, a fragment of enchanted crystal that, according to legend, vibrated in the face of imbalances in the royal lineage. It had rested there for centuries without any manifestation. But now... now its faint glow bothered them. A subtle but continuous vibration.

"She's trying to change the laws without the people. If she wants to be Queen... then let her come before us. If she wants to protect the Kingdom, let her help us. But if she remains locked up on that throne, with no explanations, no diplomacy, no ritual... then she is pushing us towards war."

Lady Irhena raised her crystal goblet with a sharp glint in her eyes.

"Then let's convene the Council of Schism. By ancient law. Let Evelyn speak, or be deposed."

"And may Sylvandor live... with or without silent heirs," muttered Faeron.

The nobles toasted, not in celebration, but in preparation.

[The candlelight flickered on the walls, casting long, swaying shadows that seemed to dance like sentinels from a forgotten past. The hall was a far cry from the grandeur of the darker main hall, reserved for private affairs and secret business. Every space in the room was imbued with the memory of old battles - the rusty blades and armor in the corners seemed to be there more to remind us of loss than glory.

Lord Faeron Vel'Aeth stood in front of a large, detailed map of Sylvandor. He was studying the lines and points of intersection, the territories ruled by the nobles and the control points of the armed forces. The room was silent, except for the soft sound of approaching footsteps.

Next to him was Teryn, the commander of the dissident troops in Eltharia. Teryn was a man of imposing presence, and his rigid posture reflected the discipline of an experienced warrior. He looked at the map with a cautious expression, his eyes tracing the lines with precision.

"Do you really think we'll make it, Faeron?" asked Teryn in a low voice. "Evelyn is a symbol. She may be young, but her support in the Court is significant. The people regard her as a beacon. Removing her from the throne will be more complicated than simple military force."

Faeron turned slowly, his eyes narrowing. The silver gleam of his eyes, now opaque, seemed to reflect a cold, calculated calculation.

"She's a threat, Teryn," said Faeron, with icy calm. "She has become a reflection of everything that is wrong. An unlikely successor, a deserter who doesn't follow traditions, who has never committed herself to the royal line. She hides behind the protection of her mother, Queen Frieren, and yet manipulates everyone around her. She's playing a game she doesn't understand, which is why she needs to be removed before the forest, and with it the Kingdom itself, perish."

"But what about the people?" Teryn insisted. "We can't simply ignore her support among the masses. If we act without solid justification, it could be seen as a coup."

"It won't be a coup," Faeron replied firmly. "It will be a restoration of order. A reaction to the chaos she has allowed to grow. Evelyn closed the palace. She has isolated herself from the rest of Sylvandor. But the real question is: what is she hiding? Could she be acting on behalf of her mother, or is there something bigger at stake? I don't trust her. And anyone who isolates themselves on the throne, without even trying to unite the houses, has no right to rule. Sylvandor needs stability. We are that stability."

Teryn looked at Faeron, pondering his words.

"And what do you suggest then?" he asked, the tension growing between them.

Faeron smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"First, we'll gain the necessary supporters. The smaller houses that have always felt slighted by Frieren and his court. They fear change, but they're more afraid of losing power. As always, it's a question of throwing them to our side with promises. If the Queen falls, who will be there to take over?"

Teryn nodded, beginning to understand the direction of the plan.

"What about the army?" he asked, concerned about the magnitude of a mobilization.

"Our goal is not an open battle," Faeron replied, with a shrewd glint in his eyes. "It's a quick, surgical strike. We're going to isolate Evelyn, seize control of the keys to Gal'Shanai, arrest the Royal Guard commanders and force a bloodless surrender. But if she resists, a confrontation will be necessary. The Queen's army will have no option, and we... will have the advantage of the element of surprise."

Faeron paused, looking at the map with his mind already on the next steps.

"Let's convene a Council of Nobles. An advisor from each major house. That's where we'll declare our intentions. We will ensure that the vote of confidence becomes ours. Evelyn has isolated herself, now it is we who will present ourselves as the true strength of Sylvandor. The Court is divided, and that's how we have to play it. It will see what happens when it turns against its own people."

Teryn stepped forward, sensing the gravity of the moment.

"What about Queen Frieren? Can she interfere, or is Evelyn really on her own?"

Faeron stopped in front of the table, his fingers touching the cold surface of the Orb of Vun'thel, which still glowed softly.

"Frieren won't be a problem. She's... absent. We don't know how aware the Queen really is of what's happening to her daughter. Evelyn has hidden in her castle, but the winds of the forest are more powerful than she realizes. The very balance is about to collapse. Once the throne is taken, the Queen will have no choice but to submit or hide even more."

Faeron looked Teryn in the eye, the certainty in his expression like a man determined not to back down.

"Our time is coming, Teryn. It won't be open warfare... but it will be a fight for the soul of Sylvandor. And we will lead it."

With an almost imperceptible gesture, Faeron signaled to the other members who were waiting in the shadows of the room. One by one, they entered, and in a matter of minutes the hall was filled with allies, their faces tense and their eyes eager for action.

"Prepare everything," said Faeron, now in a fierce whisper, "and let no one forget: this war begins in silence. Let's act before Evelyn knows what hit her."