Late March — The Turning of the Season
The storm began, as most wars did, with a vote.
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Charlton – The Parliament Floor
The House of Commons was packed, restless, tense — the air thick with damp wool and the smell of rain carried in on coats.
Charlton Daniel sat at his bench, papers spread neatly before him. His pen rested idle. He didn't need notes; every word was already carved into memory.
Across the chamber, Christopher Cross — Minister of Justice, heir to the Duke of Brenford — watched him with a calm too precise to be natural. Their eyes met once, briefly. Enough to remind each other what this truly was.
When the Speaker called his name, Charlton rose.
"Gentlemen," he began, voice measured, deliberate, "we speak often of progress, but less often of those who profited from chaos while the rest of the country bled for it."
The murmurs began immediately, but he didn't pause.
