Once a conclusion had been reached on the matter before Parliament, the Speaker at the head of the chamber raised his jewel-studded scepter once more and brought it down with a crisp tap. "Session adjourned."
The words were as light as a feather, yet their weight seemed to bring the entire hall to the brink of collapse.
No one moved at once.
The New Party members still sat with rigid backs. Their clenched fists slowly loosened, their palms slick with cold sweat. They exchanged glances filled with relief and gratitude, but not a trace of jubilation. Everyone knew that casting this vote had not meant victory. It had meant a rupture, nailing themselves irrevocably to the side opposing the Old Nobility.
A deathly silence settled over the Conservative Party seats. Some stared at the floor as though they could split the flagstones with their gaze. Others covered their faces, harsh breaths escaping between their fingers. Still others mechanically adjusted their cuffs and collar pins, their movements as stiff as those of string puppets, trying to conceal their inner collapse behind etiquette.
Duke Negan remained standing where he was, his deep crimson Parliamentary Robe gleaming dully in the candlelight like a pool of dark red blood that had just congealed.
He did not spare the New Party leader another glance. His shattered eyes slowly swept the chamber, passing over every calm, evasive, or indifferent face. Wherever his gaze fell, even the air seemed to freeze.
Not a single person in the chamber dared meet his eyes.
After a moment, as though he had finally accepted reality, he numbly lifted his foot, turned, and began to leave. His leather boots struck the flagstones as though he were treading on the coffin of the old era.
There was no heavy rumble, only a