Scene: Orvanu National Broadcast – Global Live Transmission
Citizen POV – Orvanu Capital
The streets were silent.
Not empty. No—packed. But silent.
Every screen—on skyscrapers, in homes, inside malls, inside military bases—was tuned to the same thing:
President Levan Torell, standing behind a podium.
No flag beside him.
Just a large, black banner.
At its center?
The Blackwood Seal — burned in gold.
I stood with my family in the Plaza of Unity. We hadn't seen a national address like this since the pandemic. Not even during the fuel crisis. Not even when our currency crashed.
But this?
This was different.
You could feel the fear like cold rain on bare skin.
Then, the president spoke.
> "Citizens of Orvanu… the world is not as it once was."
He looked tired. Older. Like someone had stolen his spine and left him hollow.
> "A sovereign nation's fall is not just a headline. It's a warning. And Delvaron has been silenced."
> Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
> "We cannot afford arrogance. Nor ignorance. Not when we face the empire of Blackwood."
He paused, breathing in like it was hard to admit.
> "By order of the Council, with the safety of our people as our guide, Orvanu hereby declares allegiance to the Blackwood Throne."
> Gasps. Cries. Some dropped to their knees in shock, others in defeat.
> "Our borders will remain. Our people will remain. But our pride must evolve."
He reached beneath the podium, pulled out something... and raised it:
A Blackwood Flag.
He handed it to the Guard Commander beside him.
> "From this day, our military shall wear the mark of the empire."
> "Long live the King," the Commander said stiffly, with a salute.
> "Long live the Queen," Torell followed.
Then the screens cut to black—just one bold message on every screen:
> "Orvanu has bent the knee. Who is next?"
---
Cut To: Blackwood Castle — Throne Hall
Classic 😎's POV
I watched the transmission from the side gallery of the Hall, standing quietly while the council scribbled notes and whispered strategies.
> "They bent," I muttered. "Without a single Blackwood soldier stepping foot on their soil."
I glanced toward the elevated dais.
There sat Chris. Calm. Back straight. One hand resting on the lion armrest. The King again.
Beside him stood Amara.
Tall. Poised. Watching me.
I wasn't scared.
But I was careful.
Because I wasn't sure who I feared more now…
The King that made the world kneel.
Or the Queen who enjoyed it.
---