The Emperor stood. Scepter raised. Eyes fixed on the scrolls, then on his son-in-law.
"Sharath Virayan Darsha," he said slowly, "you married my daughter—but today, you marry the soul of this kingdom."
He turned to the hall.
"Let this council be formed. Let this vision be realized. Not in gold, but in grit."
The Assembly erupted—not in decorum, but thunder. Because something old had cracked.
And something new had begun.